Stung! 



IT is proverbial that the monetary side of horseflesh 

 usually carries a sting. The sting I received recently, 

 however, was somewhat different. I had no fault 

 whatever to find with the horse; a great big raking 

 four-year-old grey, and had I gone home immediately 

 the deal was finished everything would have been all 

 right. 



It was a beautiful evening : and as beautiful evenings 

 usually increase our national aptitude for dallying, I 

 dallied contentedly with the horse's breeder talking 

 about horses, past and present, that either of us had 

 owned. Had the subject remained in that groove 

 everything would have been delightful, but during a lull 

 in the conversation my eye wandered towards some bee- 

 hives at the bottom of the garden, and I had the mis- 

 fortune to compliment my host on their number. 



Equine subjects were banished forthwith and were 

 replaced by a bee specialist's eulogistic monologue. I 

 am not one of those impossible persons who pretend 

 they know everything about almost every conceivable 

 subject, so I freely admit that my knowledge of bee- 

 keeping is extremely meagre. I was very interested, 

 therefore, in hearing what an expert had to say on the 

 subject. As we walked down the garden towards the 



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