“White star in the forehead, one white foot on the off side, this little knot just in that place;” then looking at the middle of my back⁠—“and, as I am alive, there is that little patch of white hair that John used to call ‘Beauty’s threepenny bit’. It must be Black Beauty! Why, Beauty! Beauty! do you know me?⁠—little Joe Green, that almost killed you?” And he began patting and patting me as if he was quite overjoyed.

I could not say that I remembered him, for now he was a fine grown young fellow, with black whiskers and a man’s voice, but I was sure he knew me, and that he was Joe Green, and I was very glad. I put my nose up to him, and tried to say that we were friends. I never saw a man so pleased.

“Give you a fair trial! I should think so indeed! I wonder who the rascal was that broke your knees, my old Beauty! you must have been badly served out somewhere; well, well, it won’t be my fault if you haven’t good times of it now. I wish John Manly was here to see you.”