Herman Melville, letter to Evert Duyckinck:
Do you want to know how I pass my time? — I rise at eight— thereabouts
— & go to my barn — say good-morning to the horse, & give him his
breakfast. (It goes to my heart to give
him a cold one, but it can’t be helped.)
Pierre (1852)
Now, this grand old Pierre Glendinning
was a great lover of horses. . .He
said that no man loved his horses, unless his own hands grained them. Every Christmas he gave them brimming measures. "I
keep Christmas with my horses," said grand old Pierre. This grand old Pierre always
rose at sunrise; washed his face and chest in the open air; and then,
returning to his closet, and being completely arrayed at last, stepped
forth to make a ceremonious call at his stables, to bid his very
honorable friends there a very good and joyful morning.
1853
August 4th.[1845]—We marched at half-past 6 o'clock. That means that two hours earlier a trumpet had called us all from sleep to sudden labours; first, arms in hand,—there is an inspection,—then a "stable call," which the poor horses know well, although they have perhaps forgotten what a
stable is, or have despaired
ever to see one again; possibly they retain a vague memory of the grain, which, on a time, was served to them at that signal. Now they whinny a morning greeting to their masters, and seem
grateful for a little rubbing of
their stiffened limbs, and removal to fresh grass.