The Chronicles of a Gay GordonGordon, J. M. (Joseph Maria)
History
The Chronicles of a Gay Gordon
Gordon, J. M. (Joseph Maria)
Generals -- England -- Biography; Gordon, J. M. (Joseph Maria), 1856-1929
kindly offered to coach me in carrying on the discipline and economic
duties in connexion with the barracks, and the official correspondence
with the Commissioner's office.
One of the privileges of the drill instructor was to have his horse
attended to by one of the troopers. I did not avail myself of this.
A young horse, rising four, had just been bought, one of the handsomest
dappled greys I had ever seen, standing about fifteen hands three, full
of breeding. I selected him for my mount, and determined to look after
him myself. Cold work it was too in the early winter mornings to wash him
down, groom him and keep the saddlery and accoutrements in order. I
schooled him myself, and he promised to become a perfect hack and police
horse. A police horse needs to be taught the best of manners. He must be
thoroughly quiet, good tempered, and capable of being ridden in amongst a
crowd without being frightened. I succeeded beyond my expectations in
training him, and I was very pleased that he was turning out so well.
After about two months, however, he rapidly developed the worst of
habits. Suddenly, without any apparent reason, he would stop and refuse
to move. He would do this anywhere, on a country road or in the middle of
the street. It was no use plying the whip, or using a powerful spur. He
would not go forward. He would rear, or lash out with his hind legs, but
he would not move on. This happened only very occasionally, but, when it
did, it was most awkward, especially if I was in charge of an escort, or
on a ceremonial parade. It turned out that he was suffering from a sort
of horse-mania produced by having fed when young on a plant known in the
district, where he was bred, as the Darling Pea. Feeding on this plant
had this extraordinary effect upon horses. I was returning one day, after
being on duty at the races at Victoria Park, to the barracks. As I was
passing the Adelaide Hospital he stopped dead. After a few moments of
gentle persuasion I gave him a sharp touch with my spurs. He reared
straight up and fell backwards on the road. Luckily my face escaped
injury, but my chest and back were nearly flattened out. A few days in
hospital put me all right, and I returned to duty. He chose a fit place
to hurt me.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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