Poor Cynisca.

South Canterbury Times, Issue 7071, 17 February 1893, Page 1

Poor Cynisca.

I know nothing about racehorses, and St. Hippo might be by Carbine—Maxim for all that I know. 1 don’t know one home from another unless one has a saddle oa and the other hasn’t. That I know, because I re member, when a boy, riding a very lean horse—oh, be was so lean—bareback, and his backbone semed to be a cross-cut saw set teeth edge uppermost. I never forgot bow for days afterwards I had to eat my meals without sitting down. My ignorance of horses and their names led to a strange case of mistaken identity quite recently. I called at the house of a friend, and during my stay one of my host’s sons came in. He looked as solemn as a udge, and addressing bis father said “ Oynisca's dead.” The old man rose from his chair quicker than if be bad been raised by a tin tack, and ejaculated " Jee-roo salom, you don’t say so ! “ It’s a fact,” quoth the eon ; “ died from lockjaw.” A spell dense enough to gap an axe came over the household, and the whole family seemed to be broken up with sorrow. I thought I would step in and aot the part of consoler generally. Altering my features to the orthodox forced cabbage expression required for the occasion, I began iu a mournful tone : “ Ah, poor Oynisca 1” (I didn’t know who she was, but thought I was on the right track ) " She is gone ; her trials are all over." I was going on, but was interrupted by the younger son coming in with j “ Trials ! Why, she could go through ’em like one o’clock." “ Ah,” I replied, “ that showed her great courage and spirit ” “ And she was full of it,” sobbed the hired man. “ Bid you know Oynisca ?’’ inquired my friend. I confessed 1 did not. “ She was an Apremont, a regular little beauty, and as fast as they can grow them," be answered, spasmodically. I replied by hoping the Apremonts would bear (heir loss wiih fortitude, but felt a little shocked as to why concern so great should be shown towards a departed fast beauty. “ She doesn’t owe us anything, does she, father ?” asked a eon. “So she does not, and I wish 1 could say the same of all the Apremonts, for I have lost by some of bis erratic sons and daughters ” I began to wonder why my friend should talk so glibly of making money out of the family of another, but I did not like to bo inquisitive. • You knew Apremont, of course ?" asked my frioud, addressing me. Again I bad to show my ignorance. “ Not,know Apremont? Why, I thought everyone knew him. Mr Stead brought him out, and he has been at Riccartoa ever since," said my host. “ And poor Oynisca will never carry silk again," said the mistress with a sigh. 1 thought it was about time I held up my end of- the Idg, so I put in the remark that she would have'a large funeral. “ o,” answered my friend, “ they’d hardly go ae far as that. Just dig a hole and pop her iu. Perhaps skin her off her feet.” I looked at him in blank surprise, and said jthat would never be done, surely ? “ yes, it might, replied my friend, “ they did it with 'Musket.” I hurriedly inquired : " What has that to do with Miss Oynisca Apremont ?” "That’s not her name—simply Oynisca; she was a mare." “ And not a lady ? ’ I asked, with a dreadful rising in the throat, *• No ! Who said she was ?” asked 1 my friend. When I recovered they were bathing my feet in buttermilk, and the hired man was ramming grass seed into my ears.- They said I fainted, and were using;, the only remedies they knew of to restore me. I’ve since taken a pledge never to interfere with the sorrow of others until I kdow what it is all about .— Woodville Examiner,