Welcome to Sleep Stories with Steph,
Your go-to podcast that offers you a calm and relaxing transition into a great night's sleep.
It is time to relax and fully let go.
There is nothing you need to be doing now,
And nowhere you need to go.
Close your eyes and feel yourself sink into the support beneath you and let all the worries of the day drift away.
This is your time and your space.
Take a deep breath in through your nose and let it out with a long sigh.
There is nothing you need to be doing now,
And nowhere you need to go.
Happy listening.
Chapter 2 Before I was two years old,
A circumstance happened which I have never forgotten.
It was early in the spring,
There had been a little frost in the night,
And a light mist still hung over the woods and meadows.
I and the other colts were feeding at the lower part of the field,
When we heard,
Quite in the distance,
What sounded like the cry of dogs.
The oldest of the colts raised his head,
Pricked his ears and said,
There are the howls,
And immediately cantered off,
Followed by the rest of us to the upper part of the field,
Where we could look over the hedge and see several fields beyond.
My mother and an old riding horse of our master's were also standing near and seemed to know all about it.
They have found a hare,
Said my mother,
And if they come this way,
We shall see the hunt.
Soon the dogs were all tearing down the field of young wheat next to ours.
I have never heard such a noise as they made.
They did not bark,
Nor howl,
Nor whine,
But kept on a yowl,
Yowl,
Yowl,
Yowl,
Yowl,
At the top of their voices.
After them came a number of men on horseback,
Some of them in green coats,
All galloping as fast as they could.
The old horse snorted and looked eagerly after them.
We young colts wanted to be galloping with them,
But they were soon away into the fields lower down.
Here it seemed as if they had come to a stand.
The dogs then left off barking,
And ran about every way with their noses to the ground.
They've lost the scent,
Said the old horse,
Perhaps the hare will get off after all.
What hare?
Said I.
Oh,
I don't know what hare,
Likely enough it may be one of our own hares out of the woods,
Any hare they can find will do for the dogs and men to run after.
And he was right,
Before long the dogs began their yowl,
Yowl,
Yowl again,
And back they came all together at full speed,
Making straight for our meadow,
That's the part where the high bank and hedge overhang the brook.
Now we shall see the hare,
Said my mother,
And just then a hare wild with fright rushed by and made for the woods.
On came the dogs after him,
They burst over the bank,
Leaped the stream and came dashing across the field followed by the huntsman.
Six or eight men leaped their horses clean over,
Close upon the dogs.
The poor hare tried to get through the fence,
But it was too thick,
And she turned sharp brown to make for the road,
But it was too late,
The dogs were upon her with their wild cries.
We heard one shriek,
And that was the end.
One of the huntsmen rode up and whipped off the dogs,
Who would have soon had their way.
But he picked her up by the leg,
And all the gentlemen seemed very well pleased.
As for me,
I was so astonished,
I did not at first see what was going on by the brook,
But when I did look,
There was a sad sight.
Two of the 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,
And the other lay quite still.
The man's neck is broken,
Said my mother,
And serve him right too,
Said one of the colts.
I thought the same,
But my mother did not join with us in those comments.
Instead,
She said,
You must not say that,
But though I am an old horse,
I have seen and heard a great deal.
I could never yet make out why men are so fond of this sport.
They often hurt themselves,
They often spoil good horses,
And tear up the fields,
And all for a hair or a fox or a stag,
That they could get much more easily some other way.
But we are only horses,
My son,
And we don't know.
While my mother was saying this,
We stood and looked on.
Many of the riders had gone to the young man,
But my master,
Who had been watching what was going on,
Was the first to raise him.
As he was lifted,
His head fell back,
And his arms hung down,
And everyone looked very serious.
There was no noise now,
Even the dogs were quiet and seemed to know that something was wrong.
They carried him to our master's house.
I heard afterwards it was young George Gordon,
The squire's only son,
A fine tall young man,
And the pride of his family.
There was now riding off in all directions to the doctors,
To the farriers,
And no doubt to Squire Gordon's,
To let him know about his son.
When Mr Bond,
The farrier,
Came to look at the black horse that lay groaning on the grass,
He felt him all over and shook his head.
One of his legs was broken.
Then someone ran to our master's house and came back with a gun.
Presently there was a loud bang and a dreadful shriek,
And all was still.
The black horse was in pain no more.
My mother seemed very much troubled at this.
She said she had known that horse for years,
And that his name was Rob Roy.
He was a good horse,
She said,
And there was no vice in him.
She would never go to that part of the field after that day.
Not many days after this we heard the church bell tolling for a long time,
And looking over the gate we saw a long strange black coach that was covered with black cloth and drawn by black horses.
After that came another and another and another,
And all were black while the bell kept tolling and tolling on.
They were carrying young Gordon to the churchyard to bury him.
He would never ride again.
Quite what they did with Rob Roy I never knew,
But I thought it quite ridiculous that all of this was but for one little hare.
