GIFT HORSES.

Manawatu Herald, Volume XLVIII, Issue 3688, 8 September 1927, Page 1

GIFT HORSES.

WANTED BY NOBODY. EQUINES AT THREEPENCE EACH. Will you give your kingdom for this horse? It’s quite all right. Look at its teeth. It’s a good horse. You don’t want to win the Melbourne Cup, do you? Well, what’s wrong with this horse? It has got four legs. Count them. It has got a tail. In fact, it is a complete horse. Will you give a kingdom for it? Will you give £5? Will you give 10s? Will you give 6d? Will you — Well,' look. For goodness sake, take it. The fact of the matter is, people simply don’t want horses, states a .writer in the Sydney Sun. You can offer them diamonds, or a small keg of rubies, or a block of land at Why Woy, and they will be pleased, and blush. But when it comes to horses — You can go up to the first person you meet, and look at him unctuously, and say: “Look here, old chap, would you like a horse?” That’s as far as you are likely to get. He will then walk away rajpid]y in the opposite direction, or call a policeman, or simply hit you. It’s no good trying to press horses on him'. He doesn’t want them. Nobody wants them, except Chinese market gardeners, or the trustees of Taronga Park. And even the Chinese market gardeners are weakening. Go up to the markets, and you will see any amount of Chinese market gardeners driving about in Ford trucks. SHUT THE GATE! Once upon a time the poundkeeper used to gloat silently when they managed in inveigle a horse into their precincts. It would be good for at least £lO at the monthly auctions. Nowadays, the poundkeepers hurriedly shut their gates when an inquiring horse trots by. I t is becoming too expensive to keep .horses in pounds. At the Manilla pound last week three horses were sold for 9d. Threepence each. This evidently stimulated the auctioneer, for two other horses were immediately put up, whilst the market was good. But his hopes were cruelly dashed even a postage-stamp, or half a dozen empty bottles —was not received. The horses were destroyed. At Narrandera, almost simultaneously, seven horses were sold in a job lot at the local pound for the handsome sum of 4s 6d. ARAB’S FAREWELL.

All over the country it is the same. The poundkeepers go out and look at their haul, and groan. Even the goats are more lucrative than the horses. A good goat will fetch as much as 30s. It takes a goat about a fortnight to eat 30s worth of food. But a horse that is subsequently sold for 3d can digest that much fodder whilst you v are still looking at it. No wonder the poundkeepers look the other way when an attractive horse wandeis past. In their dreams, they are infested with horses. Horses crawl all over them. And none of them can be sold. They can’t even be given away. . What is the cause of it all? The horse is a noble animal. Look at the way the Arabs revere their horses. But, if this sort of thing keeps up the Arab’s farewell to his steed will probably degenerate into a few passionate caresses of a brokendown Chevrolet. The fact seems to be that the reign of the internal combustion engine .has dldMtely outlawed Ithe faithful friend of mlan. Where once upon a time horses pulled the mailcoaches, carried doctors over country roads, jogged with the postman from house to house, conveyed turnips and furniture and groceries, and transported people to the city, the soulless motor-engine now takes their place. LAST STRONGHOLD. Thus, even in the country, the last stronghold of the horse, the conquering cylinder lias penetrated at last. If Manilla and Narrandera don’t want horses, even at a gift, they would probably jump at a free pint of petrol. The streets of Sydney have been empty of horses Tor many years. Now it is the country’s turn. Only In a few establishments does the horse linger on. So does the sailing-ship. There are firms which are prepared to argue that even to-day the sailing-ship is more economical than the steamer. So, too, some firms, such as Grace Brothers, still retain their stables, and deliver most of their goods y the trusty, old-fashioned cait. But nobody wants the horses in country pounds. It is a chance for the connoisseur

to acquire a study at a net cost of something like 3s 6d. For £lO, the normal cost of a good horse in the days when horses meant locomotion, you can obtain to-day an absolute nest of horses — several hundred of them, at the Manilla rates. The conclusion to be drawn is that people simply won’t look gift horses in the teeth. They won’t even look them squarely in. the eye. The poor old horse. Nobody wants him. [But the poultry farmer in New Zealand, may we add, pays for the flesh of the gee gee for poultry feed].'