Attest his stainless race, etc.
Allusion was also made, if I mistake not, to a problematic ancestor, the well-ridden steed of the poets, who after
Children's voices greet the rescued sire,
became 'a cherished playmate, loving and beloved.' Though high-tempered enough, Romeo was a good-humoured horse in the main, but the companionship of grooms and stable-boys had partly rubbed off the inherited gentillesse of the desert. Notably in one particular.
Whether he had been in some way teased or troubled, or that some mischievous groom had been at the pains to teach him the specific trick, I cannot say; but the fact was notorious that if any one—in or near the stable—made a noise with the mouth, like the drawing of a cork, the old horse fell into a paroxysm of rage and went open-mouthed at all and sundry being within reach at the time.
The knowledge of this peculiarity was turned to account more than once as a practical joke, sometimes with results more or less unpleasant to the unsuspecting bystander. But the joke occasionally recoiled. I happen to know of one instance. A well-known veterinary surgeon of those days, one Mr. Robertson—afterwards drowned in the Goulburn, poor fellow!—happened to be paying a visit of inspection, when a thoughtless friend made the cork-drawing signal. It was Romeo versus Robertson, with a vengeance. Like a wild horse of the prairies, he charged the astonished vet, a resolute active man, who had all he could do to protect himself with a heavy, cutting whip which he fortunately carried at the time. He got out of the box unharmed, but seriously ruffled and demoralised.
The first thing which occurred to him, however, on banging the door of the loose-box behind him, was to lay his whip with hearty goodwill and emphasis across the shoulders of the humourist. Robertson was a burly Scot of more than average physique. His blood was up, and I do not recall the fact of the author of this unusually keen jest making effective resistance. He probably was cured of that particular form of joking, and learned practically that horseplay is one of the games in which two can engage. I never knew the old horse to commit unprovoked assaults, and think that some unusual experience must have led to the tendency described.
Though ordinarily well-behaved, it will be noted that there was a savour of dangerous dealing when aroused, and, as might be expected, a few of his progeny were not famous for the mildness of their tempers. They were, however, handsome and distinguished-looking, good in every relation of equine life. They supplied for many years a regular contingent to all the races in Victoria, and, indeed, within a widely extended radius round Kalangadoo and beyond the South Australian border. Few indeed were the meets, metropolitan or provincial, in which a Romeo colt or filly did not figure in the first flight. Latterly he became the property of Mr. Hector Norman Simson, from whose stud the celebrated Flying Doe and other cracks were evolved.
Young Romeo, Baroness, Countess, and Clinker had all won reputations on the Flemington race-course—which then presented a somewhat different appearance—before 1842. Young Romeo, a handsome, upstanding, dark chestnut horse, then the property of Captain Brunswick Smyth of the 50th Regiment, was raffled, in 1843, I think for a hundred and fifty guineas. We took a five-guinea ticket, but my drawing, innocently young as I then was, did not carry the proverbial gambler's luck. Oberon, a sweet little white-faced chestnut that Dr. David Thomas used to drive somewhat unprofessionally as tandem leader about Melbourne in 1851, was one of the later offspring. The worthy doctor, ever ready for a lark, delighted in getting Oberon's head over the shoulders of stout old gentlemen in the street before they were aware of him or his chariot.
It was somewhere near the end of the 'forties,' those pioneering years paving the way to the golden era which set in for Australia shortly after their decease. I happened to be in Melbourne upon a cattle speculation. At Kirk's Bazaar after breakfast I saw my ideal steed in a loose-box, apparently for sale. After feasting my eyes upon him for a reasonable period, I interviewed Mr. Dalmahoy Campbell, and sought particulars.