Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1898-03-26
The GrOona's Story.

Copyright 1885, by A. Conan Doyle)
Ten mile in twenty minutes. e done it.. sir.
That's true.
The big bay 'orse in the further stall-the one
I've seen better 'orses I've seldom seen a
But e 'olds the bloomn' record, an that's good
enough fol US.
We knew it in i'm. 'E's thoroughbred,
We bought i'm for to race 'im but we found 'e
For e was sad and thoughtful, and amazin' digni-
1t seemed kind o. liberty to drive i'm or to ride
For e never seemed a-thnkin' of wot 'e 'ad to do
But is thoughts were set on 'igher things, nd.
mirin' Of the view
e looked puffeck pictur, and pictur e would
e wouldn't even switch is tail to drive the flies
away.
And yet YETI We e., knew twas in i'm; we knew as e
But wot we couldn't git at was 'ow to make i'm
We'd almost turned the job up, until at last one
We got the last yard out Of i'm in a most amazin'
way.
1t was all along O. master; which master as the
OF reg'lar true blue sportsman, an always acts
But we all as weaker moments which master 'e
An e went an bought a motor-car when motor
cars begun.
I seed it in the stable yard-it fairly turned me
A greasy. wheezy engine. as can neither buck nor
You've a screw to drive it forrard, and screw to
make 1t stop,
For it foaled in a smithy stove an bred in a
1t didn't need nothin but bit O. standin
room
Just FIJI 1t up with para fin an 1t would go all day.
Which the same should be agin the law If l could
ave my way.
Well. master tcck 10 motor an NOTED ere an
there,
e wore blcomin' yachtin' cap, but Lori wot
E1eep sto that or you turn screw the thing would
An then one day, it wouldn't go. e screwed an
But somethin' jammed. an there e stuck in the
mud Of a country lane.
1t urt is pride most cruel, but wot e to do?
So ut last e babe me fetch 'orse to pull the
motor through.
This the 'orse fetched i'm; an when We
We brnced him tight and proper to the middle Of
the bar,
And buckled up his traces and dashed them to
each side,
While e ED is cad 80 'aughtily an looked most
digniied
Not bad " tempsred, mind you, but Kind of pained
An e , seemed te say well, BIZ me! wot will
they ask me next?
by far, '' ''''' wv Gays '''
To be assistant engine to a crocky motor-car!'
Well, master e in the car, a-fddiin' with the
And the xsef' orse was meditatin and wa. .ard.n'
When master 'e touched somethin'-wot IT was
But 1t sort o spurred the boiler up and made the
engine go.
Z" Old ard old gal!'' says master, and Gently
them. says l.
to try:
So first e pulled lever an then e turned
But the thing kept crawlin' forrard spite OF all
that e could do.
And first it went quite slowly and the 'orse went
also slow,
But e 'ad to buck up faster when the wheels be-
For the car Kept crowdin' i'm and buttin' i'm
And in less than arf minute. sir. that 'orse was
gofn' strong.
At first e walked quite dignifed, an then e 'ad
to trot.
And then e tried a canter when the pace became
e looked q; very 'auehtiest. a. if e DIDN'T mind
And all the time the motOr-car was pushin' I'm
be'ind.
Now. master lost is cad when e found e couldn't
An e pulled valve somethin' an somethin'
An somethin' else went fzzywiz. and In fash,
or less,
Inat DlesSe0 car was SOln ike limited express.
Master ED the steerin gear. an kept the road all
right,
And away they wfzzed and clattered-my aunt:
1t a sight,
e seemed the finest draught 'orse lived by
far,
For all the country JuggIns thought twas i'm wot
pulled the
e stretchin' like greyhound, e was goln'
But It bumped an showed behind i'm. for all that
1t butted i'm an boosted i'm an spanked i'm on
ahead
Till e broke the ten-mile record, same as I ri.
ready said
Ten mile in twenty minutesi e done it, sir.
could do.
Some say it wasn't 'ardly fair. and the paper.
But e broke the ten-mile record, and that's good
enough for Us.
You see that 'orse's tail, sir7 You don't! No more
do we,
Which really amt surprisin, for e as no tail to
That engine it OF I'm before master made
1t stop,
And all the road was Uttered like bloomin' bar
ber's shop.
And master? Well. it cured i'm. e altered from
that day.
And come bick to Is 'orses in the good old-fash-
Toned way.
And II yon wants to get the sack, the quickest
Il to- Int as 'ow you think e ought to keep
motor-car.
A. CONAN DOYLE.
y -