The longer I lived at Birtwick the more proud and happy I felt at having
such a place. Our master and mistress were respected and beloved by all
who knew them; they were good and kind to everybody and everything; not
only men and women, but horses and donkeys, dogs and cats, cattle and
birds; there was no oppressed or ill-used creature that had not a friend
in them, and their servants took the same tone. If any of the village
children were known to treat any creature cruelly they soon heard about
it from the Hall.

The squire and Farmer Grey had worked together, as they said, for more
than twenty years to get check-reins on the cart-horses done away with,
and in our parts you seldom saw them; and sometimes, if mistress met
a heavily laden horse with his head strained up she would stop the
carriage and get out, and reason with the driver in her sweet serious
voice, and try to show him how foolish and cruel it was.

I don't think any man could withstand our mistress. I wish all ladies
were like her. Our master, too, used to come down very heavy sometimes.
I remember he was riding me toward home one morning when we saw a
powerful man driving toward us in a light pony chaise, with a beautiful
little bay pony, with slender legs and a high-bred sensitive head and
face. Just as he came to the park gates the little thing turned toward
them; the man, without word or warning, wrenched the creature's head
round with such a force and suddenness that he nearly threw it on its
haunches. Recovering itself it was going on, when he began to lash it
furiously. The pony plunged forward, but the strong, heavy hand held the
pretty creature back with force almost enough to break its jaw, while
the whip still cut into him. It was a dreadful sight to me, for I knew
what fearful pain it gave that delicate little mouth; but master gave me