AT A CATTLE SALE.

Taranaki Daily News, 14 October 1916, Page 2

AT A CATTLE SALE.

A TYPICAL EXAMPLE. RAIN, DISCOMFORT, AND lIUMOR. "Sow ther for Bartholomew's Pride! What shall I say? Fifteen No 7 then twelve? Ten'; Ten! Ah, I havo it, Ten—ten—ten—eleven —eleven—twelve What shall I say? Fifteen? No? then halves—fifteen—fifteen—fifteen haif—fifteen half—sixteen—six-six-six-sixteen is all Tm ollered! What about it. Mr. Cioo.lsirV" "Well, it's not enough money, Charlie, hut you better give him a run." "All right! Sixteen is all I'm ollered! Sixteen seventeen—seventeen —seventeen. For the last time at seventeen!" Knock. "Seventeen guineas, Mr. Viehard." And a eleik duly makes an entry. . Tiiese are not the introductory phases of a comic opera—though, goodness knows, there are enough comic interludes aim asides to make material for even a Gilbert and Sullivan production, The subject of this article is a cattle fair. inside a4ox 30 shed, perched on rough seats, railings, standing wedged like the proverbial sardines, are son>e two hundred to two hundred and fiftv men. Ages range from eighty to eighteen. Half of them are almost wet through; they have been for the last hour or two in pouring rain, inspecting the stock, discussing pedigrees, commenting on bone and sinew, the likelihood of good progeny, and all the multifarious details 'which tend to the bring-ing-up of a good herd.

The weather is also a subject for discussion. "It's j,.and," remarks ar old farmer —sans overcoat, san? umbrella — whose asthmatieal tendency should, one would naturally think, hare kept him at home. But he chuckles and remarks: "Won't the feed come on? Tho v e s some mighty pood stock hero to-diu." There may have been, for all this scribe could tell, for he's r new-chum at bull fairs. He is wedged against the wall, a burly (and really handsome) Maori on his right hand, a "kuri"— pretty well loaded with the hopnins fleeing insects, too! —between hi? feet, soldiers, farmers, and would be farmers on the left, clambering anywhere and everywhere to "get a squint." And the dampness, the smoke, the all-pervadin« aroma of cattle predominates. ° "Now, what have we here? All, a 'hoice line. Four of 'cm. all by Paragon's Beauty, from well-bred cows. Look at 'en.'' The pedigrees a.e read. "Now, the pick of the four. They're all auaranteecd, hand-fed, too. Aren't they 'benuts'? What shall I say? Twenty to start with? No? Eighteen? Fifteen, is it? Twelve? Oh? come. Anything you like. Twelve. I hear] thirteen—l thought it was coming—fourteeen. fourteen—there's a whistle, hoi! up your hand if 1 don't see you—fifteen, fifteen! Come, come, the pick of the bunch, and only fifteen T'm oflered. Caught it! Sixteen, six-six-sevon-seven.'" and so on until "the pick of tie Imneli" is knocked down. "What one will you take, sir?" Some deliberation on 1.10 | urt of the buyer, wh j can hardly see toi smoke and steam, and then he points. "The red one, No. 87. Out he goes," And belabored gently by the dripping wet stockmen, who eertainiy earn their day's wage, No. 87 is figuratively "kicked out" of the ring and put into another pen to await the time when he shall be trucked to new pasture." . Meanwhile, his old owner and his new owner are—like the cow—ruminating, each by himself. Old owner: Let him go too easily. New owner: Believe I paid too much for the brute. "Now for the pick of the nex't three. Can I get fifteen to start with?"He doesn't, but all the same the next bull ■Hi lie. He's handfed. and he's barely 12 months old." "Well, he's a darned sight bigger and botter-looking beast than I was at 12 months old, and I wasn't hand-fed," is the smart retort, and the audience roars. But the good humor and smart repartee of the harassed auctioned provokes spirited bidding, the last of the bunch realising the highest price. "I've never known you to be so generous before," gaily remarks the auctioneer. "Come along with the next lot! We've a long way to go, and I know lots of you boys want to catch the train." ,

And the stockmen swing the Rates, hustle in or lead the cattle, and the sale proceeds uninterruptedly. The Shorthorns and others have been disposed of, and a line of Jerseys is introduced. "Charlie," ia given a respite, and another wielder 01 the hamtnci is relieving him. A well-known figure in the stock worid is "trapesing'* four young ones around the ring. "Oh, hang it, Bob, get out of the limelight, and let the people see the cattle. "Why, at the flolsteiu sale the other day everyone complained that they couldn't see the heasts because of you." "Bob" appreciates the auctioneer's little gibe as much as the crowd does, and retorts: "Well, send me over to Blenheim with thii. lot. sir, and I'll get better prices for 'em than you'll get." A quid pro quo.

"Well, Harper, wlmt nm I to do with these? They're absolutely without reservo, aren't tliey?" "Somebody else's remark, Charlie," "Charlie'' had again resumed. "Oh, give 'em a run," and all were disposed of until the last one. "What about him?" "The best hull in the herd, but it's too cheap. I'll have to keen him as a stand-by, I s'pose." This was apparently a remark made by fvoaf.; it was used so much. Rain is pelting down, cows have to be milked, trains have to bo caught, and soon after three o'clock there is a general exodus. But a few lots remain, •and they are quickly disposed of, and the fail come; to a close, One hundred and fifty beasts have been sold in about three hours, and tired auctioneers, tired sellers, tired buyers, tired drovers, tired onlooVers who had nothing else to do but look on, a tired pressman rush per motor, horse, cart, or train for—no, not home and rest, but for the continuance of the daily and nightly routine. And one need not ponder over the reason why the saying has been bruited forth that •'Trii-iuwki lifts off its hat to the cow," Essentially, climatically, thft dairying centre of New Zealand it was good to see and inspect such an all-round fine lot of hulls as were submitted at the Waiwakaiho yards on Monday last