I never could like that boy Norman; I thought him both cowardly and
conceited. I could not forget that he had killed my friend, the poor
dog, Jenny. One day, when he came to my mistress’s house on a visit, he
insisted on riding on my back. “Now,” thought I to myself, “I’ll have
my revenge.”
Just beyond the garden there was a wood, and beyond the wood there
was a very deep and dirty ditch, generally full to the brim with mud.
Norman had been boasting what an excellent rider he was, and invited
the others to come with him through the wood to see him jump the ditch.
They all came, though they did not believe he could do it.
Scarcely had they started, Norman on my back, and the others running
by my side along the path through the wood, when I threw up my heels
and dashed aside from the path into the bushes. “All right,” shouted
Norman, “you run on by the path as far as the ditch, and see whether I
don’t jump it before you get there.”
“Oh, you will?” I said to myself. I went quietly along for a little
way, where the bushes were thin and fairly far apart, and then,
without any warning, I plunged right into a thicket of brambles. _My_
skin is tough, so I didn’t mind them, but Norman’s face and hands and
stockinged legs were scratched, and the thorns stuck into his clothes
from head to foot. He was a nice object by the time we got to the
ditch: he had quite given up his boastful idea of jumping over it, and
did all he could to make me stop and let him get off my back.
“Not if I know it,” thought I. “I shall never get such a chance again
of punishing you for shooting Jenny;” so I galloped along the edge of
the ditch, and when I had reached a very steep and slippery place, I
suddenly stopped short, and jerked Norman off my back. He was unable to
gain his footing, and pitched headlong into the thick, black mud.
Just then the other children came racing down the path; but what was
their surprise and alarm to find me looking into the ditch, and Norman
nowhere to be seen.
“Norman! Norman!” they shouted, “where are you?”
[Illustration: “ALONG FROM THE EDGE OF THE DITCH.”]
“Here—oh, help!” said a half-stifled voice at last. They looked into
the ditch, and there was Norman, half drowned in mud; he was on his
feet again, and was standing on the bottom of the ditch; but it was
nearly five feet deep, and the mud was up to his neck. “Help me out!
oh, help me out! I shall be drowned!”
Norman’s screams attracted the attention of two farm-hands who were
passing near at hand, and they ran up to see what was the matter. In a
few minutes they had got a long pole and had let one end down into the
ditch so that Norman could catch hold of it. Then the men pulled slowly
at the other end of the pole, and at last Norman managed to scramble
out. He was covered with mud, and his teeth were chattering with cold
and fright. I began to be sorry for what I had done, and kept behind
the children, who were hurrying Norman home as fast as he could go.
I heard the next day that Norman was very ill; he was obliged to stay
in bed. The doctor was afraid he was going to have a bad fever, and be
ill a long while. He shook his head when the children went to inquire
after Norman, and advised my mistress not to let the children ride
me at present, until Norman was better, and could tell them how the
accident had happened.
I knew it was not an accident, and began to be much afraid in
consequence of what I had done. When Norman got well enough to tell
them all about it, and how badly I had behaved, they all looked at me
very seriously.
The next morning, when Robert, the stableman, came as usual to fetch
me to be saddled, and to take Jack and Janie for a ride, he said
nothing to me, but, to my great alarm, groomed and saddled the other
donkey that lived in the stable. In a few minutes Jack came in at the
door, his face very sad, and his eyes full of tears.
“Neddy,” he said, “I’m very, very sorry, but grandma won’t let me ride
you any more. She’s afraid you’ll be naughty again, and kick me off, as
you did poor Norman. Oh, Neddy dear, how could you do it?”
I was dreadfully upset by this, and wanted to explain to Jack that it
was because I hated Norman, and that I shouldn’t think of doing it to
him, or Janie, or anybody else whom I loved, and who was kind to me.
But I didn’t know how to say this to Jack, so I only drooped my head,
and touched his shoulder with my nose.
“Mind, Master Jack,” said Robert, “don’t let that vicious donkey touch
you. Perhaps he’ll bite you. Come away, my lad, directly,” and Robert
seized Jack by the hand, and pulled him away.
“Yes, the horrid brute!” said Teddy, who, with the others, had come to
the stable door. “Of course, Norman isn’t always nice, but Neddy had no
business to try to drown him. I’ll take good care that I have nothing
more to do with such a donkey.”
“And I, too,” said Dick, and so said all the others. Jack looked very
sorrowful, but as Robert put him on the other donkey’s back and led him
away he looked round and said to me in his usual kind little voice:—
“Poor, poor Neddy! Never mind, I’ll always love you just the same,
though I mustn’t ride you any more, and perhaps some day you’ll be good
again, won’t you, dear Neddy?”
I could have cried when I heard this. It was more than I could bear.
As soon as Jack was gone, I crept out of the stable, and made my way
into the fields. Then I lay down and thought of all the wicked things
I had done in my life: how I had knocked my first mistress down, and
broken her nose; how I had deceived the farmer, and how revengeful and
evil I had been when he punished me for my deceit. I thought of all the
happy life I had led in my present home, and how very, very kind they
had all been to me until I had done this wicked thing to Norman. Norman
had killed poor Jenny, it is true; but then he didn’t do it on purpose,
and his father had punished him for it; what business had _I_ to give
way to feelings of revenge? I thought of dear little Janie and Jack,
and how good and kind they had been to me when I was ill; and when I
remembered that, owing to my wickedness, they were not to be allowed
to ride me any more, I felt so unhappy that I could not keep still
any longer. I began to run as hard as I could, trying to run away from
myself, but the faster I ran, the more miserable I was, until at last I
ran my head right up against a stone wall, and fell down senseless.
When I came to myself it was late in the afternoon, and I couldn’t
tell where I was. Three people were sitting a little way off by the
roadside, but as their backs were turned they didn’t see me. What was
my astonishment to recognize in them the owner of the performing donkey
Muffles, with his wife and son! They looked unhappy and hungry, and I
learned from what they said that poor Muffles had been badly hurt by
the crowd that day at the fair, and that they had been obliged to leave
him for a time with a kind farmer who offered to turn him out to grass
in his field, while they went about looking for a little work to keep
them alive until Muffles was once more well enough to perform at fairs.
When I heard all this, I felt still more unhappy, for it was all _my_
fault that Muffles had been hurt, and the showman’s family forced
to go hungry because they had no money to buy food. Then I suddenly
remembered that little Jack hoped I would some day turn good again.
“I can begin to be good again this very minute,” thought I. “I can
follow these people to the next village, and earn some money for them
by performing tricks.” So I jumped up, and trotted behind them until
they stopped at the door of a little inn to ask the host if he would
let them stay there that night. They said they had no money to pay
for a night’s lodging, but perhaps he could give them some work to do
instead. The host shook his head, and said that he had plenty of people
in his house to do all his work, and that the showman must go somewhere
else.
Just as they were turning sorrowfully away from the door, I trotted up,
bowed to the innkeeper, and then stood up on my hind legs and began
to dance. I did several of the tricks that Muffles was accustomed to
do, and I did them so gracefully that quite a large crowd collected. At
last I thought it was time to make the collection, so I picked up the
showman’s hat in my teeth and took it round to everybody in the crowd.
Before I had finished my round the hat was so full of money that I had
to empty it into the showman’s hands, and when he came to count his
gains there proved to be nearly ten dollars. So the showman and his
wife and boy were able to have a good supper and a night’s lodging at
the inn, and they gave me a supper and a night’s lodging in the stable.
In the morning I followed them to the next place, and we gave two or
three performances in different parts of the town; so that before
dinner-time I had earned for the showman no less than sixteen dollars,
and then I thought I had atoned for my unkindness to him on the day of
the fair, and that I would go back and try to show Jack that I was now
good.
[Illustration: “I TOOK THE HAT IN MY TEETH.”]
I soon found the right road, and reached the house in the afternoon
when everything was quiet, and all the people indoors at tea. Just
as I came up to the high wall of the kitchen garden, on my way to the
stable, I saw a tramp trying to climb over it, doubtless intending
to steal things out of the garden. I made a jump, caught the tramp’s
foot in my mouth, and pulled him down. He called out for help, but in
another moment he fell, hitting his head, and lay still. At this moment
another tramp came running up; I gave him a kick as he passed me, and
stretched him flat by his friend. The second tramp howled so loudly
that all the servants came running out of the house to see what was the
matter. I was still standing over the tramps, ready to kick them if
they offered to get up. When they were questioned, their replies were
so suspicious that they were taken into the house, and the police sent
for.
So I had saved my good mistress’s garden, and perhaps several other
people’s houses, from being robbed. They were all so pleased with
my intelligence that they said I should be forgiven for my past
wickedness, and that the bigger boys should ride me for a time; and
if they found me always gentle and quiet, then perhaps they would let
Janie and Jack ride me as before.
To crown all, I heard in a few days that Norman was nearly well
again, and that he bore me no ill-will, for he said I must have seen
something or other in the path, perhaps a toad, or a piece of paper,
that frightened me and made me run away. How dreadfully ashamed of
myself I felt when I heard this! After all, Norman seemed a much better
and more generous boy than I had at first imagined him to be. At any
rate, _he_ was not revengeful.
[Illustration]
CONCLUSION.
From that day onward I lived a very happy life. My kind old mistress
said that I should never be sent away; that I should never want for
anything, but should remain with the family as long as I lived, and
that they would do all in their power to take care of me. Jack had
loved me even when I was wicked and miserable, so I was always looked
upon as Jack’s donkey, even when Jack was at home in London. He always
paid his grandmamma a long visit every summer, until he was ten years
old, and then he went away with Janie and his father and mother to
Australia. After that I was considered to be Harry’s donkey, because
Harry, of all her grandchildren, paid the most frequent visits to his
grandmamma. Harry is not so good as Jack was, but he is a kind boy; he
never treats me roughly, he always takes great care of me, and calls me
his dear old Neddy.
A series of talks between Harry and his cousins made me think of
writing my memoirs. Harry always said that I did not understand what I
did, nor why I did it. His cousins and Jack admitted my intelligence
and my desire to do good. I profited by a severe winter which did not
permit my being much out of doors, to compose and write this account
of some of the important events of my life. Perhaps they may amuse
you, my young friends, and in any case they will make you understand
that if you wish to be well served, you must treat your servants well;
that those you fancy the most stupid are not always so stupid as they
appear; that a donkey, as well as others, has a heart to love his
masters and to suffer from bad treatment; a will to revenge himself or
to show his affection; that he can, thanks to his masters, be happy
or unhappy, be a friend or an enemy, poor donkey though he be. I live
happily; I am loved by everybody, cared for like a friend by my little
master Harry. I begin to grow old, but donkeys live long, and as long
as I can walk and stand up, I will hold my strength and my intelligence
at the service of my master.
Your affectionate friend,
NEDDY.