“DUMB FRIENDS”

Wanganui Chronicle, Volume 77, Issue 23, 27 January 1934, Page 12

“DUMB FRIENDS”

My Dear Childer,— Your story for to-day is of something that happened nftcr a funeral, when people had come from far and near to pay their last tribute of respect to one. described by his"fellows as “a real while man.’’ Most had come by motor-car, and all these had departed from the cemetery save one very luxurious sedan. A group of horsemen stood chattering together, when there approached them the owner of this* fine limousine. “Excuse me, gentlemen, we are all strangers; but I take it wo are all friends of him we have just farcwcllcd. That being so, will you bring those beasts of yours to my place, quite near at hand, for a rest and a bite before you go further?’’ A strange invitation, but a kind one, and every true rider loves his mount, so right heartily we accepted the proffered hospitality. The animals’ comfort assured, onr host then turned to us, “We must not keep my wife waiting too long for her guests, so come indoors.” AVhat an unexpected pleasure this was, and how genuine the welcome, as each in turn we were presented to our charming hostess. She was busy sewing a fancy device, while a little girl was stretched before rhe big log fire reading a picture boot. “You can’t have tea, daddy, until mother has finished my spider; she has only got one more leg to do and then I can wear my apron and be Miss Muflet, while I hand you the cakes ” So we settled into the depths of the easy chairs, and conversation tumefl to the beautiful weather of the former week-end, when one gentleman told him he had ridden sonic miles to a distant nart of the Tasman coast tu sec an allegedly large wash-in of wood. He found people from the surrounding districts holding quite family picnics, while the menfolk toiled, and he was very interested to note that our friend the horse was in great demand to do the hauling. Also, he was frightfully indignant at the people, who forgot that h horse was a dumb, living thing and “not” the engine of a motor-lorry. One big dray horse, he was convinced, was city bred, used only to hard metal roads and with no more idea of pulling over heavy sand than its driver had of instructing it. In his own mind he did not think the driver was the owner, or he would have shown more consideration for a beast with so much fat around its hcan; that the wonder was it did not drop in its tracks from over exertion in an unfamiliar labour. Another poor animal, plunging about in the heavy sand, was straining utmost over a trolley load, while two hefty youths unceasingly urged it on, but indignation reached boiling point, when that load delivered, the. faithful beast returned to the chopping groun<l, dragging the two inconsiderate youths. Next, he instanced a wizened old man with lean horse and light cart. The horse would go so far, and stand stock still, when the aged one on foot, would stroke it and .say encouraging words, and perhaps offer it a drink from the bucket of water he carried over his arm. Refreshed and rested, Dobbin would continue of his own accord, and put n. heart in his pull, and the aged Darby would walk alongside, never saying a word. It was a joy to watch these two, he concluded, for they were real pan and thoroughly understood each other, and I am as sure that Darby owned Dobbin, as I pray to heaven those two otner poor beasts of burden were only out “on loan. ” Then our host told of going over to Charlie’s place, (we all knew Charlie) about a “deal” in sheep, and how amazed he was to see Charlie simply open a gate, call the sheep and have them come running to him like children. AVhen he expressed his astonishment, Charlie had replied, “They’re used to it, they all know my voice/* “Why, daddy!” exclaimed the little girl with the book, “Charlie must be th* ‘Good Shepherd/ for the sheep knew his voice.” There was a dead pause for a moment, and then mother replied, “Charlie was ‘a’ Good Shepherd, because he was trained by ‘the’ Good Shepherd and followed His ways/’ Afternoon tea came then, the spider’s leg was finished, and Miss Muffet !• cap and apron, joyfully handed round the rakes and pressed us to try “peanut joys,” because she had shelled the peanuts. Presently she asked, “Mr. Harvey, will I bring you one of my pets to nurse!” So. childer, one must always be polite, and T replied, “AVry pleased, I’m aure. ” Out she trotted to return staggering under the weight of a big black Orpington hen, but the lady declined to be nursed by me, although she settled down quite complacently on Miss Muffet’s lap and dozed off to sleep. AVell, childer, what about it? You are. going to watch, I am sure, that no one does to the dumb creation injustice. Suppose the horse had made those boys haul a heavy load, and then right on top of it, made them haul him (the horse) on their waggon, and go on doing it, wouldn’t there have been an outcry! Yes! Yes! Yes! Of course there would. I can see quite well, childer, that you are going to be like Charlie, that the sheep trusted; like Darby, that Dobbin loved; and you, little girls, are going to be so gentle that dumb things feel as safe with you as the old black hen did with Miss Muffet, and because you are so everyone will love you for your kind hearts. Thanks, Wendy.—From “BEN.”