MY EARLIEST RECOLLECTIONS—I FIND MY MOTHER RATHER A DULL COMPANION—I
MAKE FRIENDS WITH OLD THOMAS—THE RETURN OF MY MASTER’S FAMILY—MY
FIRST INTERVIEW WITH MY DEAR MISTRESS—ANNIE AND I BECOME GREAT
FRIENDS.
This is the Story of a Donkey written by himself! It is not the first
time that such an indiscretion has been committed, and doubtless it
will not be the last. And, indeed, if I did not think I had something
pleasant to tell, I would not trespass upon your patience; but now, as
in my old age I quietly graze through the summer days in my pleasant
green field, or keep myself warm in my comfortable winter shed, I
often think over my past career; and it seems to me to have been so
full of strange events that I am induced to jot down some of its most
stirring incidents, in the hope that, while my faults may be a warning
to some, the good resulting from an earnest desire to do my duty may be
a comfort and encouragement to all.
My first recollection is of lying quietly down by my mother’s side on
the soft green grass of a large field. Very pleasant it looked to me,
as I lay there under the shadow of a great oak-tree, and looked out
upon the sunshiny landscape; and I thought I should never be tired of
being there quite still, and admiring all the wonderfully beautiful
objects which met my eyes whichever way they turned.
But as soon as I began to grow a little stronger, this state of
inaction became tiresome. My curiosity was aroused to see what there
might be beyond my own little world; and many a frisk I took away from
my mother’s side, to peep over a hedge into another field, and amuse
myself by looking at some animals very different from ourselves, which
my mother said were cows; but I did not admire their shape so much as
I did our own; and, as to their horns, I did not think them half so
pretty as our ears. Then, when I had looked at the cows till I was
tired, off I would gambol to where an iron fence separated our field
from a long sloping lawn, bright with beds of many-coloured flowers.
Every day I seemed to spy out something more beautiful than before; and
I would gallop back to my mother, and ask her to come and look too, and
tell me what was the name of this or that wonderful new thing.
But my mother was not of so adventurous a spirit; or perhaps she was
getting old, and did not like to be troubled with my endless questions.
She was very ready to tell me what little she knew; but she was not the
least desirous of increasing her own stock of knowledge.
“Ah, my son!” she would say sometimes, as she gave her ears a
melancholy shake, “I foresee there is a great deal of unhappiness in
store for you. Why must you always be spying into that which does not
concern you? Why are you not content to stay quietly by your mother’s
side? When you are my age you will know the wisdom of just simply
enjoying your tuft of grass, or drink of water, without troubling your
head as to what the rest of the world are doing.”
“Very likely,” I replied, with a kick of disdain, for I was a pert
young donkey from my earliest years; “but as I am not so old as you
are by a long way, you need not expect that I should consider munching
grass from morning to night is the perfection of happiness. I want to
know what life is, and what goes on beyond this field. I declare I get
sick to death of hearing you munch, munch, munch, as if you had not a
thought beyond your nose.”
“Ah, my son!” said my mother, sadly, “you will know what life is soon
enough, never fear, and what work is, and poor fare, and hard blows;
and then, when your back aches, and your sides are sore, you will
remember your mother’s words, and think that, if you could but get back
again into this pleasant field, you would trouble yourself very little
with what is going on in the outer world.”
For a moment I was silent. Work, poor fare, and hard blows were not
pleasant-sounding words. I had never heard them before, and began to
wonder what they meant; but my mind was suddenly distracted by a sound
behind the hedge; off I scampered to see what it might be, and, by the
time I came back to my mother’s side, I had forgotten the expressions
that had alarmed me, and was as full of tricks and gambols as I had
been before.
But though my mother was not fond of conversation, I gathered, from
words which she would occasionally let fall, sufficient to make me
understand that we belonged to a gentleman of good property; that my
mother’s business was to draw his wife in a little carriage, she being
in delicate health; and when I asked why I had never seen her doing
this, she told me the family had all been away for some time, but that
she should be glad when they came home again, for they were all very
kind to her, and often brought her some nice things, such as a carrot,
or some cabbage leaves, or occasionally even a small feed of grain.
The idea of these dainties made my mouth water, and I began to be as
impatient as my mother for the return of my master’s family, hoping
that I, too, might come in for a share in her good fortune. So anxious
was I to know when they were coming that at length my incessant teasing
became unbearable to my mother, and she angrily told me “to go and ask
that old man on the lawn there, for he was the only person the least
likely to be able to gratify my curiosity.”
It was very easy to say, “Ask,” but how was I to make him understand
what I wanted to know? Not but that we were very good friends. I had
made his acquaintance some time ago, during one of my visits to the
iron fence which shut me out from my favourite flower-garden. At
first, when he had come near me, I was much frightened, and scampered
away as hard as I could; but he called out so pleasantly, “Wo—so ho,
little Neddy!” that, though I did not know that was my name, I was sure
he meant me, and so I summoned up courage to turn around and look him
in the face. And a very kind face it was; and he held out his hand so
coaxingly that I was induced to come a few steps forward; but then my
heart misgave me, and I took two bounds back.
“Whoo! little Neddy—whoo!” said the kind voice again. “Sure Thomas will
not hurt you. Come, my little man; come and be scratched.”
Such an invitation was irresistible. Again I turned, walking a few
steps toward my new acquaintance; then I stopped.
“Come! come!” said the voice again; and I made a few steps more in
advance. Again I heard myself encouraged; and now I had approached
near enough, by stretching out my neck, to smell whether there was any
mischief in the hand that was stretched out toward me. No; all seemed
safe; and the hand was held steady till I had been able to sniff all
around it, and satisfy myself that no harm was intended me. Then the
hand was gently raised to my head, and the pleasantest sensation I had
ever felt in my life passed through my whole body. Oh, how soothing,
how delightful was that rubbing and scratching! and I browsed against
my new friend, and looked up in his face, as much as to say: “Oh, do it
again! please, do it again!”
“What! you like it, little Neddy; you like it, do you?” said the kind
voice. “Ah! I thought we should soon be friends.”
Friends I should think we were. From that day forth I was always on the
lookout for Old Thomas; and no sooner did I see him come on to the lawn
than I would gallop up to the iron fence, kick up my heels, and bray
out my welcome in my loudest voice—though, by the way, I soon began to
perceive that this was not the most pleasing style of address to my
friend.
“There, Neddy, there,” he would say; “that is quite enough of that
noise. Be quiet; do.”
At first, I must confess, my vanity was much hurt; I felt inclined to
turn my back and take no further notice of my friend; but I was soon
sensible that I should be the loser by such folly; and so, wisely
endeavouring to alter my mode of salutation, I rubbed my nose against
the iron fence, and made the softest and most whinnying tones of which
my voice was capable. It had the desired effect. Old Thomas evidently
saw that I had got the better of my little tempers, and was trying my
best to be pleasant; and so he would put down his rake or his hoe, or
leave the flowers he was tying up, and bring me a few carrots, or an
apple or two, or something equally good; and, as he was feeding me, he
would say, kindly:
“Ah, little Neddy, you are a good-hearted little beast! full of
spirits, but not a bit of vice about you; and you will be a rare beauty
one of these days, that you will. How my young missus will admire you!”
And then I would rub myself against his hand, and look up in his face,
as much as to say:
“Who is young missus? Tell me.”
And so, by degrees, as I say, we had grown quite intimate, and I could
understand almost everything Thomas said to me; but I was grieved to
find he did not comprehend my meaning so easily; so that it was very
difficult to get an answer to what I wished to ask him. Sometimes he
would say:
“Why, Neddy, you have got such intelligent eyes, you look almost as if
you could speak. I wonder what you have got to say to me. Is it more
carrots you want, eh, Neddy?” and he would hold out a carrot so close
to my mouth that, though that was not what I wanted at all, for the
life of me, I could not resist the temptation of eating it; and so
Thomas misunderstood my meaning, and went away, thinking, perhaps, what
a greedy little donkey I was, while all the time I was only seeking
for instruction and information. Ah, well! I have listened since then
to what many a man has said of his neighbour or his friend, and I have
come to the conclusion it is not only donkeys whose earnest longings
after truth must remain ungratified, and whose best actions are liable
to be misinterpreted. If man cannot understand his fellow men, no
wonder he knows very little of what we are thinking.
On that day when my mother was angry with me for teasing her, and told
me to be off and ask Old Thomas, I felt piqued and angry.
“Who knows,” thought I, “perhaps I can make him tell me, and then
there will be a triumph, for mother only sends me to him because she
is cross, and because she thinks I shall never be able to find out.”
So, putting on my most pleasing manners,—for we can all seem to be very
good-humoured when we have got any end to gain by it, however cross we
feel inside all the while,—I galloped up to the iron fence, and began
whinnying in my most engaging tones. It was not long before I attracted
the notice of Thomas, who, looking up from his work, said, in his
usual kind tone:
“Ah, little Neddy, you are come, are you? I have nothing for you
to-day.”
Now, though I quite understood this disappointing announcement, I was
not one bit more inclined to go away. I had come for a particular
purpose, and I was determined to accomplish it, if possible. Our race
have the character of being obstinate; and, though I like to dignify
it by the name of perseverance, I suppose I am no better than the rest
of my species. Anyway, I began a series of gambols, such as generally
succeeded in bringing Old Thomas to my side; but in vain. I kicked my
best kicks, gambolled around in circles, pricked up my ears, and even
tried a short, very short, bray. It was all to no purpose. Thomas went
steadily on with his work, paying no attention to all my tricks. At
length, sick of an exhibition which attracted no admirers, I was on
the point of returning to my mother’s side, very much out of humour,
when suddenly I saw Thomas leave off work for an instant, and, resting
on his spade, he looked toward me. This was encouragement enough; and
again drawing near the fence, I began rubbing my nose against it more
wistfully than before.
“Poor little Neddy!” he said, as he walked slowly up to me; “you will
soon have a better playfellow than I am.”
I pricked up my ears at these words. “Ah!” thought I, “now it is
coming.”
“You see I have no time to waste with you to-day, Neddy,” continued
Thomas. “I have got to get the place to rights. The master’s coming
home. Can you understand that, Neddy?”
Understand it? Of course I could; and I rubbed my head against Thomas’s
hand to ask him to go on.
“And when he comes, he must not see so much as a leaf out of its
place,” said Thomas. “No bits of carrots left by the fence, my little
donkey. But it is not long you will be left without a bite of summat,
I guess. When Miss Annie sees you, I am very much mistaken if she does
not give you more than ever Old Thomas did. You will forget your old
friend then, maybe, Neddy.”
Now somehow, though his voice sounded sorrowful as he said these words,
I was so overjoyed at having made the discovery that the family were
returning that I paid no heed to Thomas’s grief. My only thought was to
get back to my mother, and tell her the news as fast as possible. So,
breaking from the kind hand that was stroking me, I turned hastily away.
“Ah, it is just like ’em all!” I heard Old Thomas say. “Men and beasts,
they be much alike; they will come fast enough if they think you have
got anything for them; and then, when they have got all they can, off
they go like a shot, without so much as a ‘Thank ye.’”
I hardly noticed the words then. I was very young, very conceited, and
much spoiled; but I have often thought of them since, when I have known
what it was to have my own heart well-nigh broken by the unkindness of
others. Ah me! it is all very well for old folks to preach. The young
ones will never pay a whit more heed to anything we may say than we did
to our fathers. Every one must buy his experience for himself. Happy he
who pays least dearly for it!
A day or two after my last conversation with Thomas, as I was frisking
about the field, feeling in more than usually high spirits, I suddenly
heard a voice exclaim:
“Oh, look, look, papa! Did you ever see such a little darling?”
My natural self-sufficiency leading me instantly to suppose that this
term could apply to no other than myself, I turned immediately in the
direction of the speaker, and for a moment stood astonished as I saw a
beautiful little girl running toward me. Whether it was that she came
so fast toward me, or whether it was that she was so unlike Thomas, or
anything I had ever seen before, I cannot say; but a panic seized me,
and without waiting to give a second look, I galloped off, and never
stopped till I found myself safely by the side of my mother. Then I
took courage to look up, and saw that my pursuer had also given up the
chase.
Finding this was the case, and emboldened also by seeing that my mother
showed no sign of alarm, I peeped out again, and then went a few steps
in advance.
“Gently, Annie, gently, my love,” I heard the elder person say. “Do not
frighten the little thing. Let us find it something to eat; it will
come then.”
“Oh, yes, papa! Thomas says it comes up every day to be fed. I will run
and fetch some carrots; may I?”
Permission being given, off ran the little girl, and by the time she
returned, I had sufficiently mastered my emotion to approach with
a tolerable degree of self-possession. Still, it was not without
considerable alarm that I saw Annie come inside the fence, and walk up
to where I was standing; and I confess I should have been glad to have
had a protection between us. I dare say you think this was very silly;
and so it was. But can you never remember, kind reader, the time when
your faults or your follies made you wish to keep the fence between
your best friend and yourself? However, this was the last time I ever
committed such a mistake with Annie.
From that day forward we became the best of friends. I never was so
happy as when I was with her, and few days passed without two or three
visits from her. Sometimes she would coax me back with her to the
house, and even take me with her into one of the sitting-rooms.
But I did not like those visits, and always escaped from them when I
could. It was quite contrary to my nature to behave with the degree of
quiet propriety which was necessary in society. My mistress schooled
and taught me to the best of her ability, and I did what I could to
follow her instructions; but I am afraid I was not at all an apt
scholar. I never felt at my ease in a room fitted up with all sorts of
strange, queer-looking things, of which I did not understand the use,
and which I always dreaded I should knock down and destroy, and so get
into disgrace; and I took pains to show her I only came into the house
to obey her, and not from any wish of my own. I think she understood
me, for she would often say, in her kind, caressing way:
“Oh, Neddy! you like being out in the fields, frisking about, better
than coming into the drawing-room. I can see that plainly enough. But,
Neddy, you must remember you must learn to behave like a well-bred
little donkey; for if you spend all your life frisking about on the
grass, you will grow up so ignorant that I shall be quite ashamed of
you. And, after all, you are much better off than I am. I sit for
hours, and hours, and hours, quite still, learning my lessons, and
you—you stupid little thing!—you are tired if you stand still for five
minutes together. Ah, Neddy! you have a great deal to learn before your
education is finished.”
And so I had, though I did not know it then; and, like a thoughtless
little creature as I was, I did not trouble my head about what was to
take place in the future,—perfectly content to go gambolling about in
the enjoyment of the happy present.
Those were pleasant times, and my memory likes to go back to them. It
is astonishing how fond the old are of recalling the enjoyments of
their young days; and perhaps they are a little apt to forget that what
is so very pleasant to themselves is rather tedious to others; so I
shall keep the remembrance of the first three happy years of my life
for my own consolation, and pass rapidly on to the more stirring part
of my existence.