There were not many days that passed that one could not find a veterinary’s horse tied to my gate. Day by day, my bills kept piling up and there was nothing coming in to pay them. I had my six acres mortgaged.
    Suggestions are cheap and I was blessed with neighbors that were full of suggestions. They would suggest this remedy and that. ‘Oh if I were you, I would have that ox’s tonsils removed.’
    ‘Oh he has the hoof rot or fallen arches.’
    Perhaps he had both, for all I knew. One woman even made a special trip to let me know of a certain doctor in Boston, who did remarkable things for a reasonable price. She knew, because she had had experience. Her sister had been married four times and had had her face lifted by this man three times although one lifting did not take. Even now, she was getting ready for her fifth wedding, the date having been set. This visitor went on to say that it was not hard to look at the sister. She ended with, `Now Mr. Doyle, I think that that doctor could do wonders for your ox and if you will allow me, as I am a friend of yours, I can let the doctor know. He can lift your ox’s face so that you would be able to dispose of him at a good price, before the lift went down.’
    And to think that I was compelled to stand there in the yard and listen to that woman. I think that there should be an unwritten law to put such a person out of the way. Such a deed would be justified in freeing the world of obnoxious persons. She asked me what the name of my ox was.
    It suddenly dawned upon me that I never had given the ox a name. What had I been using my head for, not to think of that before? Some people use that knob that grows up between their shoulders merely for the purpose of holding up a ten dollar hat. Such people haven’t more than five cents worth of brains to think with. I felt of that knob of mine and thought what an expenditure to cover that small amount of brains.
    Now that she had reminded me of the fact that I had not named the ox, I thought of all the men who had suffered greatly, then the idea came to my mind that Balaam, being a good Bible name as well as the name of a man who had suffered greatly. So I decided that Balaam would be the name of my ox from that time on. It seemed to me that the trouble Balaam had with his ass was similar, in a way, with the trouble I was having with my beast.