RANDOM NOTES.

Putaruru Press, Volume IV, Issue 129, 22 April 1926, Page 3

RANDOM NOTES.

(By a Random Writer). 11. Had I aspired to a heading, that of my previous Random Notes might well have been “ The Inarticulate Cockie,” and I intended following this up with some account of how the Cockies in our village (capital C, please, because the Cockies are the most important, in fact almost the only, people in the village) have found their tongues ; indeed very much so—-and some of the e i'Vets. But being a random writer, I can write what I like, when I like, how I like and where I like. I can roam “from grave to gay, from lively to severe,'’ and who’s to say me nay ? So, instead of following up the articulate cockie for the moment, I “ like ” to write about the show, or at anyrate part of it. "4 Six years ago, and within a few weeks of coming to the Dominion, I visited the Matamata A. and P. Show, and thought how poor an affair it was; so much so that the impression served as enough of show for the six years. Please, show people—committees, officials and subscribers—do not think this discourteous or an instance of Old Country show snobbery. Still, my standard was possibly not a fair one, having been cultivated by such shows as “ The Royal ” at Home and the English Village Fruit, Flower and Vegetable Shows. The former are big and splendid, of course, drawing to themselves the best from the whole country; while, as to the latter, the villages have been at the game for a very long time, the rivalry is keen, and both exhibits and staging have reached a very high standard indeed. I remember that, on the 18th March (I think it was), 1920, I certainly was impressed with the very large number of motor cars, though they weren’t an official part of the show, the jumping, the very few entries of stock, the cold and rather cheerless day (for which the show people were in no wise responsible, but which was nevertheless greatly unshowlike) and the extreme foot-weariness due to wearing a pair of new and unaccustomedly heavy boots. (I freely admit that the show people were not responsible for this, either; hut it was painful, nevertheless). Oh! hut I was near forgetting the one real delight, which still lingers fragrantly in memory. I was lunched by two hospitable ladies—two, mind you—who had each brought abundant and' .varied supplies, and who procured hot-water mysteriously (to me) from somewhere, and a teapot from under the seat of the car, and who each showed a charming jealousy when I was helped from the other’s store, another instance of the New Zealander’s hospitality to the newcomer—and all of which was to my personal benefit. I did very well that day. v But as far as the show itself was concerned, that one lasted me for six years, and I was only induced to go this year from an interest, in the second degree, in a trifling exhibit; and, at that, an exhibit which a mere man is not supposed to possess enough intelligence to appreciate at all. ' All the same, in an unguarded moment, and- in an unwonted burst of generosity, I had undertaken to he express agent, and so had to turn out at an unearthly and tiresomely early hour, to get the wretched thing on. the ground in time (10 o’clock). That sort of thing is what sends men to early graves. There was recompense, however, in the big advance the show had made, or so it appeared to me; and that comes to the same thing as far as I am concerned. King Sol did his nicest (though perhaps the show committee couldn’t help that); the breeze was a gentle zephyr, giving just a subtle sense of purity; the show ground looked well; the show officials appeared not to have a care in the world, which i's another way of saying that things were running smoothly, which , i? another way of saying that somebody had put in some pretty solid work beforehand—for it is mostly axiomatic that the ease, and smoothness, and simplicity with which a thing runs is just the measure of the amount and quality of the work that has been put into it beforehand; there was the addition of numerous tents, which always seem ;to give a comfortable; gaiety to things; more horses; many more cattle; and a large, gaily dressed and pleasant-looking crowd of visitors. They say—l have no personal knowledge—that the association has need of funds. It would seem that the need is likely to be short-lived if the prospective advance of the show is proportionate to that of the immediate past. The items I was personally most in--1 terested in—[there are, and must be, an ! awful lot of “ I’s” in these notes; they can’t be dodged!—were the herpes, f lie v-n s eml -'he educational (?! exhibits. T'i r. T)"rhaps, because T don’t knew much about them. Anyway, it’s well to put it so. It’s a sort of saving

clause; saves one from the “superior” attentions of those people who don’t know much more than one’s self, but think they do. Personally, I like the man who says “ I don’t know,” because he’s speaking a truth applicable co most of us; and it makes the rest of us feel comfortable. In spite of, and in common with the rest of humanity, being obliged to say “ I don’t know,” about most things, the last of the three interesting- items (to me) I do know a little about, and that gave it interest, for it permitted me to use some sort of discrimination in viewing this section. More of this anon. But the horses 1 Those splendid animals. Their obvious knowingness when they took the preliminary walk and “ look” at the jumps; and their assumption of pure indifference as they turned away from each, as though saying “ Pooh! That’s nothing - .” They seemed to be almost human, and high-bred humans at that. How character and temperament came out when each was set at the course! Some took it in an “ all in the clay’s work ” sort of way, and “ we’re quite used to this kind of thing, don’t you know!” Others quivered, and pranced-, pirouetted, and gave ,a miniature circus performance before getting away. But the real glory of the animals came out at the check on the turn and after the last jump. The straining and heaving - of muscles; the impatient snatch at the bit; the toss and shpke of the head; the fret and irritation at being pulled up “ just when we were getting warm ” as they seemed to say. “ Ah! yes!” says the rider of that beautiful chestnut with the docked tail, as he leaned over to pat the beauty’s neck, “ You have done enough this turn, old boy, and you’ve done very well. I’m proud of you; hut you’ve done six jumps right off; and the last two rather snorters; and I don’t think you quite know how hard you’re breathing; so we’ll just pull up, if you please.” I I didn’t actually hear all this; but 1 1 am certain these two, horse and rider, were great chums, and understood one

another perfectly, and had their little ! talks. There’s a wonderful humanness about some horses, which fits men to become their companions; and the lift is perhaps not seldom- to the men. (Read “ Thomas Assheton Smyth with the Pitchley and Quorn,” if you can get hold of the book). The bulls! Who wouldn’t he interested in those fine, deep-bodied, cleanlined, massive creatures. I’m interested, too, because I’m afraid of them. So are yoti; you, the seasoned cockie; and if you say you’re not, I shall spy ‘ you’re a say, as the monocled dude remarked, adding “ Bai Jove,” when he got to the last line in a certain verse of “The Charge of the Light Brigade.” If you’re not afraid of hulls, why don't yov. treat your bull as you treat your dog - ; the one you know is likely to bite other people? You’re willing to pat your dog’s head and look the other way at the same time. But you don’t do that with your bull that is likely to toss other people; that is, if you’re not altogether a fool, and r.) seasoned cockie can be quite that, especially where bulls are concerned—in spite of the well-known opinion of a certain eminent authority on dairyfarmers generally. When I first came to this country I made no secret of the fact that I was absolutely afraid of hulls; in fact, I rather emphasised the point, and to some extent with a purpose; and it was received on occasions with a tolerant smile, as if to say: “ Well, we’re not ; hut what can you expect 1 ” Within a few months, at a clearance sale, a Jersey bull, with which, though always at a respectful distance, I had a nodding acquaintance, was eventually “ put up.” He had been standing for some time, and by the time he was “ knocked down ” he had had quite enough of it, and made a rush for the gate. Almost every man-jack .of the cockies spread-eagled for safety, and my soul was comforted. These men whom I had thought to he demi-gods of fearlessness where bulls were con-

cerned had run. “ Ah, but,” they said, “ Jersey' bulls are so uncertain.” A good excuse is often handy. The hull, Billee—(that was the name we called him by, though he had a swell name for dress occasions) was quite as frightened as the cockies; perhaps more so. I had got a bit used to him, and knew this; and, as they gathered in again, the cockies grinned as Billee gave a big sigh of relief when he came to a standstill, and looked round, a few yards away. Whom did the cockies grin at? Billee or themselves? Billee had hoaxed them. In the old days, in the Old Country and as a boy, I used to shudder in bed as I heard a near-by hull screaming in his stall. Now, when I hear one screaming in a near-by paddock I know he is just doing it to disturb one’s night’s—no, half-night’s— rest. That’s his idea of humour. But this is a digression; and I want to get on to the one ghastly failure of the show—the education (?) section; and here I come to something that I know more about than I know about hulls, or horses, or anything else. I may not, really, know much about even this; but enougji perhaps, as I may "be able to show, to justify mycriticism of this part of the show as being a ghastly failure, and will jot down a note ®r two on the subject next time, for I am sure that if I continue now you will use the guillotine at this point, which I may as well do myself, and so save you the trouble and myself the ignominy.