——’TWAS by a poor ass, who had just turned in with a couple of large
panniers upon his back, to collect eleemosynary turnip-tops and
cabbage-leaves; and stood dubious, with his two fore-feet on the inside
of the threshold, and with his two hinder feet towards the street, as
not knowing very well whether he was to go in or no.
Now, ’tis an animal (be in what hurry I may) I cannot bear to
strike——there is a patient endurance of sufferings, wrote so
unaffectedly in his looks and carriage, which pleads so mightily for
him, that it always disarms me; and to that degree, that I do not like
to speak unkindly to him: on the contrary, meet him where I
will—whether in town or country—in cart or under panniers—whether in
liberty or bondage——I have ever something civil to say to him on my
part; and as one word begets another (if he has as little to do as
I)——I generally fall into conversation with him; and surely never is my
imagination so busy as in framing his responses from the etchings of
his countenance—and where those carry me not deep enough—in flying from
my own heart into his, and seeing what is natural for an ass to
think—as well as a man, upon the occasion. In truth, it is the only
creature of all the classes of beings below me, with whom I can do
this: for parrots, jackdaws, &c.——I never exchange a word with
them——nor with the apes, &c. for pretty near the same reason; they act
by rote, as the others speak by it, and equally make me silent: nay my
dog and my cat, though I value them both——(and for my dog he would
speak if he could)—yet somehow or other, they neither of them possess
the talents for conversation——I can make nothing of a discourse with
them, beyond the _proposition_, the _reply_, and _rejoinder_, which
terminated my father’s and my mother’s conversations, in his beds of
justice——and those utter’d——there’s an end of the dialogue——
—But with an ass, I can commune for ever.
Come, _Honesty!_ said I,——seeing it was impracticable to pass betwixt
him and the gate——art thou for coming in, or going out?