A Little Essay.

Gisborne Times, Volume VII, Issue 356, 5 March 1902, Page 4

A Little Essay.

The following contribution, supposed to have been left behind by one of the jolly Jack tars of 11.M.5. Penguin, has reached the Trims office, addressed to the Editor, with the instructions “ Insert in Times or paper basket if room can be found in either”: —

Why ride a bike? Some time ago I determined to make a journey on horseback. Having satisfied the inner man (how often the most important) with huge slices of roast beef, at least the menu said it was beef (the wicked thought passed through my mind that it was an underdone fiesh-brush), I repaired to view my steed. 0 ! ye powers that be, grant me fitting language to describe the marvel of creation presented to my eye. What more goodly sight can the eye behold than tho symmetrical outlines of that noble friend of man. I take not upon myself the character of a horse critic, not evon of the clothes horse. What magnificent points he had. Points, points, everywhere, you could have worked a cog wheel on them. He was a walking advertisement for a hall-rack—indeed when I stopped there was no need to hitch the bridle round a post, a kindly nature having provided, in convenient placc-s, hooks. The small boy says : “ A horse is a animal with a leg at each corner.” If my horse had fulfilled the conditions of that definition ho would have been an octopus. But the scene changes, as the poet has it, I turn from viewing nature’s wonders in a stable yard .... I travel a short distance in a long time and presently enter a stream. Like a true prohibitionist my horse sucks down the limpid water ns if it were nectar. At last ho raises his head and gazes fondly at the farther shore. 1 shako the reins, apply the stick and spurno effect. I even use gentle words, but they are like seeds on stony ground. A spectator would think he is trying the cold water cure for sciatica in the knees. There is nothing for it but to climb down “literally.” I seize the rein in a frenzied grasp and haul in the slack, and thus encouraged the noble beast with heaving sides and pevsp'ring forehead draws his athletic form from the icy waters. I sit down to consider the case, and am compelled to doubt whether “ man has dominion over the creatures.” Once more

I mount and proceed on my way. My gallant steed has “ got a move on ” and when his pace still increases my lip pales and my hair forms perpendiculars (my hat had fallen off some time before). I strain every nc-rve to prevent his stopping, but no, it is but tho last ray of a setting sun. . . . What a psalm of thanks-

giving must have welled up from the soul of that quadruped at the approach of his destination. I arrive on the ground safely, wipe his noble brow with my silk kerchief and by way of reward give him a few gentle pressures in the region of his tender and loving heart with my caressing boot. A fitting end to a “ Mazeppa’s wild ride.”