Follow Black Beauty, a gentle horse growing up in Victorian England, as he experiences kindness, hardship, and adventure while passing between different owners. Told through a horse's eyes, this beloved classic explores friendship, compassion, and the importance of treating animals with respect.
Black Beauty helps students develop empathy, compassion, and respect for animals through an unforgettable first-person narrative. Its engaging storytelling strengthens reading comprehension, expands vocabulary, and introduces Victorian literature. The novel encourages thoughtful discussions about kindness, responsibility, fairness, and how our actions affect others.
The first place that I can well remember was a large, pleasant meadow with a pond of clear water in it. Some shady trees leaned over it, and rushes and water-lilies grew at the deep end. Over the hedge on one side we looked into a plowed field, and on the other we looked over a gate at our master's house, which stood by the roadside; at the top of the meadow was a grove of fir trees, and at the bottom a running brook overhung by a steep bank.
While I was young I lived on my mother's milk, as I could not eat grass. In the daytime I ran by her side, and at night I lay down close by her. When it was hot we used to stand by the pond in the shade of the trees, and when it was cold we had a nice warm shed near the grove.
As soon as I was old enough to eat grass my mother used to go out to work in the daytime, and come back in the evening.
There were six young colts in the meadow besides me; they were older than I was; some were nearly as large as grown-up horses. I used to run with them, and had great fun; we used to gallop all together round and round the field as hard as we could go. Sometimes we played rather rough, for they would often bite and kick as well as gallop.
One day, when there was a good deal of kicking, my mother whinnied to me to come to her, and then she said:
“I want you to pay attention to what I’m going to say. The colts who live here are very good colts, but they are cart-horse colts, and of course they haven’t learned manners. You have been well-bred and well-born; your father has a great name in these parts, and your grandfather won the cup two years at the Newmarket races; your grandmother had the sweetest temper of any horse I ever knew, and I think you have never seen me kick or bite. I hope you will grow up gentle and good, and never learn bad ways; do your work with a good will, lift your feet up well when you trot, and never bite or kick, even in play.”