OLD PUFFING BILLY

Evening Post, Volume CXIX, Issue 98, 27 April 1935, Page 23

OLD PUFFING BILLY

A SUPERSENSITIVE HORSE

The town was Wellington, the scene a, well-known hotel, writes "Old-timer." Two veteran racing men, lifelong friends, were sampling the staple, but now and again they would glare at each other with a challenging expression in their eyes. Customers of the house nudged each other. They knew, that the time was drawing near when those-two old characters would break forth into hot argument. George and Jerry often crossed swords on their favourite subject. George: This beer is rotten. Jerry. Jerry: I don't notice anything wrong with it. ,• . T , George (after a minutes silence]: it is a beautiful day, Jerry. . Jerry: I think it's going to rain, the flies are very troublesome. . -George (glancing at Jerry out of the corner of his eye and detecting the contrary mood): Perhaps you would like to drink with the flies. Jerry (now thoroughly aroused ana Bparring for an opening): This: morning, George, I was reading in the newspapers about the intelligence of the horse. I have looked after Worses all my'life, and of course I know that they have no more intelligence than any other animal. • ■.' George: What's that? What about old Carbine in the Melbourne Cup? He got hopelessly hemmed in in a field of 39 starters, but his jockey, knowing the great intelligence of the horse, wisely let him have his own way, and Carbine, weaving and squeezing, got clear on his own account. Then again there was that old racehorse up north that deliberately committed suicide.. ~- 3 Jerry: Say that again, George. Did you say suicide? . ~ » George: Yes, unbeliever, suicide. *"., Jerry: Ha, ha, ha! He, he, he! Haw, haw, haw! Look here, George, I think the mild refreshment that you have partaken of has slightly twisted your imagination, and I will appeal.to all present to preserve a great silence while Mr. George Blowhard relates his interesting story of the suicide: Gentlemen, Mr. Blowhard. Mr. Blowhard acknowledged the introduction, and, clearing.his throat, began. "Hark ye, ye doubting Thomases, while I tell you the true story of Puffing Billy. Puffing Billy was an old steeplechaser, up Auckland way about 30 years ago, and what that horse didn't know was., not worth learning." . A voice: Go on, George, we are getting interested. ,; George: Don't interrupt, or I won't tell you any more. Well, as I was saying, Puffing Billy was a. steeplechaser. Jerry: Did he blow-as much, as you, George? ■ George: Now one more word from any of you and I close down for good. Now, where was I? Oh yes, I was going to tell yer about Billy. "He was a plain horse, in fact an ugly horse, with great big feet that a camel would have envied, but under a coarse exterior he was extremely sensitive. He did most of His training galloping up what was known as Mitchelson's Hill. "Now Billy noticed that when people were about they usually laughed at him and passed rude remarks. He was very sensitive, as I have already mentioned, and to be humiliated in this fashion was more than he could stand. So he made up his mind that he would commit suicide. He was running in a paddock in which there was a deep ditch full of water, and he finally resolved to take the drastic step one day as two men were watching him over'the fence. Queerly he wont down to the ditch and stood at the edge of the water. He made a couple of attempts to fall in and drown himself, but each time pulled'back. At last he plucked up sufficient courage and fell in head first, and very soon he was on his way to the happy, hunting grounds of his forefathers. "The two fellows who were leaning on the fench hastened across to pull him out, but they were too late. One of those chaps was Harry L., and the other was myself. We gafced in silence for a while, and I noticed that Hairy had his handkerchief to. his eyes. 'What's wrong with your eyes, Harry?' says I, and Harry, replied that he had got a bit of grit in them. 'And what's the matter with you, George?' asked Harry, and I said that I was just thinking of the time my poor old greatgrandmother died. . " 'Now, Harry,' said I, 'never again will I laugh at a horse unless I am certain that he has blinkers on, because this marvellous animal has as much intelligence as I have.'" Jerry: Which is not saying very much, George, old boy.