Darting Cow

KIMBERELY CLUB,

KIMBERLEY.

October 4th, 1897

My dear Raymond & Joe,

It is shabby of me to write to you both on one sheet of paper - and such a little one too. I got your last letters from Criccieth dated Sept 10th just two days before you left for London.

Mother, and Mary wrote and told me of your memorable expedition to the Black Rock and the capsizing of Mother & Mrs. Newbery into the sea. They told me how hard you two boys worked and how much everybody appreciated your work. How you, Raymond, worked like a brick; how you, Joe worked like another brick, and how you both worked like two bricks.

Well, the holidays are over and you must have had a very happy time. Towards the end, you seemed to have had very good fishing - catching sand-dabs - pollocks & mackarel.

I would have given a great deal to have been with you and to have enjoyed some of the fun.

Last Saturday I went out to get some exercise on my bicycle. The afternoon was beautiful - a perfect day; so cool, and clear, and balmy. I had cycled past Kenilworth, away, right up to No. 2 washing machine, on the far floors, when I met a troop of cows coming towards me. All the cows were on the right hand side of the road, except one that was walking, off the road on the left hand side. There was a space of about eight feet for me to pass them. Just as I was opposite the solitary cow on the left , she suddenly darted across the road in front of me. There was a dull thud; the front wheel of my machine crumpled up like a bit of brown paper, and I realized by the sudden stoppage, that something had happened. True enough, I had run into that stupid blundering old cow. I was not hurt, nor did I fall. I found myself standing in the road contemplating that distressed and injured bicycle. The beast of a cow, without a sign of regret - without a sign of being hurt, even went calmly along its way, as if nothing had happened. I sat down in the road and straightened out the wheel as well as I could, to enable me to roll it along. The tire was cut, and the collision had knocked all the wind out of it. For five blessed miles I had to wheel that forlorn and wobbly machine, back to Kimberley. I had gone out to get some exercise, and faith! I got it.

Gypsy's pups Joe are flourishing I have given one, to old Mr Lynch who works at the Compound. Mr Canty has a bull dog, it was troubled with fleas. He rubbed it all over paraffin, to kill them. When he went home last night, it was dark and he lit a match, to see if the fleas had been killed. Before he could say Jack Robinson, the poor dog was in a blaze. Round and round the yard it ran frantically, howling agonising howls, and one mass of flame. At las he threw a cloak over the poor beast & put the fire out. Canty says if he lives to be a thousand years old, he will never forget the horrid sight, nor the dreadful howls of that poor flaming dog.

God bless you your loving father

Frank Mandy