SOME MULE.

Pukekohe & Waiuku Times, Volume 5, Issue 209, 15 September 1916, Page 4 (Supplement)

SOME MULE.

EXPERIENCES OF A KITCHENER'S MAN.

In the olden days, that is to say, before I joined Kitchener's Army, 1 led tho life of the average man of my class who has no athletic pretens : ons. 1 played a bad game of golf occasionally and a fair game of solo pretty often. My most strenuous form of exercise was dancing; I knew a little about motorcycles, and had heard al school that the horse was a quadruped and .the friend of man.

f her is, however, a latent vein of romance in the most prosaic ex:stences. When it was home in upon my mind that I owed a somewhat harder duty to my "King and Country" than the writing of an occasional political letter to tho local Press, this latent vein asserted itself. Nothing less than i charger would satisfy my youthful ardour; I would joTn "'Scotland's Own

GATHERING EXPERIENCE A friend—one of those candid friends who have a penchant for the exploitation of unpleasant truths, suggested that I had better have a little preparatory training. I agreed, but for a. day or two considered thai spouimg W:ll Ogilvie's lines about "the beautiful grey horses'" was a sufficient concession to this unwelcome necessity. But at length, screwing up my courage to the sticking point, I approached our local posting and luring establishment and arranged for a mount Tho momentous moment arrived 1 had not mads- luj will—not that I expected to emerge alive froni'the ordafcl but that I had nothing of this world's goods to bequeath. With fear and trembling I approached the stables. It required two men and a chair to place me in the saddle, and once I was there I rather regretted that their united efforts had been crowned with success.

, After all. however, the event was not quita so bad as I had ant : c : pated. On my return I complained loudly that " the blessed beast would never go tr.st er than a walk," but all the time 1 was secretly most thankful that such had been the animal's wtll and pleasure.

Here endeth the first lesson. Fats and the War Office had "closed" the Greys; I joined a Highland regiment and thus, during my period of trairng, my "horsey" ambitions were dormant.

OVER THE WATER. Once "over the water," however a number of tasks which entailed my being " mounted" in some fasTiibn or othei were entrusted to me. So having in the interval learned something of ihe meaning of self-reliance and adaptability, I did not protest that 1 wafl ignorant of equine manners, but proceeded straightway to learn. I was fortunate in that my earliest mount started by my steed bolting I found out that I could stick on, and that the mot : on of the gallop was not by any means unpleasant. From that day I flattered myself that I could ride. I had still, however, much to learn. A pony is a pony, and a mule is a mule And if man is the only reasoning ammal, the mule runs him a close second as an argumcntat : ve one. The horse ; s the friend of man, but the- mule is the friend of the Davjl, in that it has caused more souls to lie lost through profane swearing than any other th'ng, animate on the face of the earth. I intend some day to wr'te a book concerning the manners and morals 01 the mule. I shall entitle it "Muliana " and it shall contain every item of my information regarding the race, including a dictionary of the terms of endearment commonly applied to individual members thereof. On account of this last feature it w'U be "black-list-.ed" by the Libraries Committee, and both my publisher >ind myself shall make our fortunes.

DOX QUIXOTE. To return, however, to the subject 01 mules that I have known. First upon the list is Don Qixote. At least so 1 have christened him, inspired theret) by his habit of charging windmills. Don Quixote is not a bad rnule in some ways; with a little persuasion administered to the non-braying end he will at times break into a distant semblance of a trot. But Let a motor appear. and theiv is no power in h,?aven above or earth beneath that shall keep Don Quixote on the same road as the monster.

I had two or three adventures with D.Q. before I determined that, in the interests of both of us, it were bettor that his way in Jife and mine shoulj lie apart. Once a motor appeared unexpectedly whilst we were on a bridge —with unguarded sides —over a typical Balkan ravine. Tlrs intelligent animal was for a moment undecided as to whether it were wiser to remain on the bridge or to seek refuge in tho mountain torrent some twanty feet below. However, aided in his thought processes by a liberal application of >rhip and spur, hjß decided for the bridge.

On another occasion I rode along ; n rather self-complacent mood, congratulating myself on the fact thajfc, although a rather inexperienced rider, nnd having had to do with some rather "chancy" animals, I had never yet been thrown. Then suddenly—the inevitable auto. The Don made a mad scramble down a steep embankment, and I described a graceful half-circle over lus devoted head, A mule having no shoul • ders to speak of, this mode of progres sion is particularly easy, though not on that account ''nvariably to be recommended. "This. Don Quixote,'' I remarked, as 1 picked myself up, " : s our last ride together."

GOOD ENOUGH FOR A HEARSK Other mules in plenty I have had under me, all possessed of the twin demons of indolence and obstinacy. One of them was so much g'iven to tlu former quality that, had he been painted black, he would have done excellently well for funerals—if he could only have been persuaded to maintain his leisured gat until the place of burial was reached. But that lam inclined t,< doubt.

Another, aga'n, there was who knew one road and one road only, and tint was the road to his lines. None oth.er could 1 ever persuade him to take, and I broke two st'eks over his back and sworo at him in seven languages and with much varietv of picturesque epithet.

Of all mod?:-* of riding a mule, however, the " barebacked" is tlie one that most appeals to my tenderer felines (Tins? iiro apt In In- very tender indeed for some dnys afterwards.) The gentle reader is inv.to-t to consider careful!? for a little spare a contour map of the Himalaya Mountains. This w'll g!v> him some slight idea of what a milled hack is like. One is sometimes in the hollows, hut not for long: first one is humped on to one peak, then v : oI"iil!v down and up aga'n on to another p. instill more uncomfortable. And so tic wary miles go bv until one hails tit.' |]~urn:> s nud v. t i a s ; 'h oi nexpr.spliMe relief. There might he muoli more written upon this subject, for the of the mule hav.e neither end nor limitation. Concerning their penchant for

the eating of picketing gear and their equally reprehensible penchant tor stampeding just as one has .settled down comfortably for the night many things might be said, but could scare-f----ly with propriety bo written. This s unfortunately true aoout most of th? remarks one would like to make on the subject as a whole—they would '»o rather out of place in the cold, passionless medium of print. And where speech is apt to be profane silence is doubly golden—A. M. D.