Story of a Horse.

New Zealand Mail, Issue 869, 26 October 1888, Page 4

Story of a Horse.

Old Astley, of circus renown, was a famous man in his day. He had a celebrated trickhorse called Punch, who, after a variety of gambols with the down, would thrust his head and neck through a napkin, then sit down to a well spread table, knook his hoof on the table as a hint to look sharp, and a warning to the clown, who was his attendant. He would furiously seize with his mouth a bell-pull (bell-pulls were common in those days), he would eat whatever was put down before him, mock turtle —i.e., bran mash — a bread fowl, beans, turnips, carrots, &o. ; then, taking a kettle in his mouth by the handle, would pour out some water in a punch bowl, seize a trick bottle made for the purpose, labelled ‘ Brandy,’ pour it into punch bowl, and deliberately lap, nodding ‘good health’ to the clown; then waltz gaily, and finally fall down as a drunken man would. This scene used toelic.it rounds of applause-rin fact, Punch was one of the stars of the company. Old Astley concocted a scheme to send some of his, company into tho provinces, and amongst them Punch. They exhibited with various success until theyreached Belfast, where, from bad management, they collapsed. Telegraphs were not invented then ; bad weather and other causes prevented Astley hewing the sad news; ruthleis creditors seized the effects and stud, and amongst them Punch, who was taken away and sold at a horse fair. AH traces of him were lest, but, though lost to sight, he was to memory dear, and Astley advertised as largely as he could in those days of limited inquiry. But Punch had vanished. About eight years after, going into a low quarter of the town, be saw in a costermonger’s cart a poor, cast down, abject creature, the bones protruding through the skin, a wretched semblance of the lost'but beloved Punch. Astley paused in doubt, then tremu lously muttered ‘ Punch.’ The animal pricked up his ears, stood upon'his hind legs, upsetting the costermonger and the contents of the cart, then waltzed up to his old master. The meeting was a strange one, but positively affectiug. Astley's ‘Down, sir,’ was instantly obeyed ;Punoh’s neck was instantly grasped, the caresses of the horse' and manager bleuded, and the recognition was complete. • Well, I’m dashed,’ said the costermonger, ‘ he is a terror, and no mistake ; everybody says it, and so do I.’ ‘Will you part with the animal V said Astley. i ‘Willi? Won’t I? and glad to get rid of him. Oh, sir, don’t have anything to do with him. The tales I’ve ’erd about that there hanlmal is enough to take your ’air hout by the roots; why, if ever he sees a kettle on the fire he'll rush in, he’ll seize it and commence all sorts o’ games ; every bellpull he sees up goes his ’oof on to the table, and there he tugs and bangs till the table or bell comes to smash. If the band plays iu the street, he waltzds like a nateral Christian, and then pretends to fall dead &b a herring.’ He was repurchased by his old master for a five-pound note, well fed and tended, and iu less than a month Punch .was at his old post ringing bells and drinking brandy and water daily. ,