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John Smith
Jane Doe
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Black beauty.
Now we shall see the her, said my mother, and just then her her wild with fright, rushed
by and made for the woods.
On came the dogs, they burst over the bank.
Leapt the stream, came dashing across the field, followed by the Huntsman.
Six or eight men leaped the horses clean over, close upon the dogs.
The her tried to get through the fence.
It was too thick.
She turned sharp round to make for the road, but it was too late that dogs were upon her
with their wild cries.
We heard one shriek, and that was the end of her.
One of the Huntsman rode up, whipped off the dogs, who had soon herve torn her to pieces.
He held her up by the leg torn and leading.
All the gentlemen seemed well pleased.
As for me, I was so astonished that I did not at first see what was going on by the
brook, but when I did look there was a sad sight.
Two fine horses were down, one was struggling in the stream, and the other was groaning on
the grass.
One of the riders was getting out of the water, covered with mud.
The other lay quite still.
His neck as broke said my mother, and serve him right too, said one of the cults.
I thought the same, but my mother did not join with us.
Well no, she said.
You must not say that, but though I am an old horse and have seen and heard a great deal,
I never yet could make out why men are so fond of this sport.
They often heard themselves, often spoiled good horses, tear up the fields, and all for
a her or a fox, or a stag, that they could get more easily some other way.
But we are only horses and don't know.