(_KEPT DURING A RECENT SOCIAL CRISIS._)
_Saturday, June 6_, 11 P.M.--Home after our last turn. Fancy from
several drinks had on the way, and the pace we had to put into that
last mile and a half, that something's up. Turned into stall nice and
comfortable, as usual.
_Sunday_.--Something is up with a vengeance. Hoorooh! We're on strike.
I don't know the rights of it, nor don't care, as long as I have my
bit of straw to roll in, and a good feed twice a day. I wonder, by
the way, if the fellow who looks after my oats is "off." Past feeding
time. Feel uneasy about it. Hang it all, I would rather work for _my_
living, than be tied up here doing nothing without a feed! Ha! here he
is, thank goodness, at last. However, better late than never. Capital
fun this strike.
_Monday_.--Am sent out in a loyal omnibus. Hooted at and frightened
with brickbats. Felt half inclined to shy. Halloa! what's this? Hit on
the ribs with a paving-stone. Come, I won't stand this. Kick and back
the 'bus on to the pavement. All the windows smashed by Company's men.
Passengers get out. Somebody cuts the traces, and I allow myself to be
led back to the stables. Don't care about this sort of fun. However,
feed all right.
_Tuesday_.--Hear that the men want thirteen and sixpence a day and
a seven hours' turn. Directors offer five and sixpence, and make the
minimum seventeen hours. Go it, my hearties! Fight away! Who cares?
You must feed _me_, that's quite certain. Still I don't care about
being cooped up here all day. Nasty feeling of puffiness about the
knees. Hang the strike!
_Wednesday_.--Puffiness worse. Vet. looks in and says I want exercise.
Take a bolus and am walked for half an hour or so up and down some
back-streets. Bless them!--that ain't no good.
_Thursday_.--Puffiness worse, of course. Bother it all, being shut up
here! What wouldn't I give just for a sight of dear old Piccadilly!
The fact is, if they don't soon let me have my run from King's Cross
to Putney, I shall "bust up"--and that's a fact. I feel it.
_Friday_.--Ah, they may well come to terms! Another day of this, and I
believe I should have been off the hooks "for ever and for aye." It's
all very well for Capital and Labour to get at loggerheads, but, as
DUCROW said, they must cut all their disputes short if they wish to
save anything of their business, and look sharp, and "come to the
'osses."
_Saturday, 13th_.--Strike over! We shall have to be in harness again
on Monday, and not a day too soon, in the interests of the men, the
Directors, the Public; and, last, but by no means least, specially
that of "the 'osses."
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