BY MAC A'RONY.
What made Balaam celebrated as an astronomer?
He found an ass-to-roid.--_Old Conundrum._
I had heard about the chilly climate of Norway, and was not
surprised when we donks met with a cold reception. We had plenty
of hay but no grain. Next morning the landlord said that he
expected some oats soon after our departure.
Pod had walked the last three miles, and warming up, had strapped
his vest to the saddle, where I found it next morning. Peaking out
of a pocket was a crisp five dollar greenback.
Now, a donkey likes anything that's green. I never had eaten a
vest. But I determined to tackle this somewhat tough corduroy
"steak," and made a fair breakfast on it, not to speak of its
garnishes of green money, lead pencils, and a scented lace
handkerchief, the one my master had long carried in the left
inside pocket. Save for the fact that I got a few sharp bones of a
pocket-comb in my teeth, and a page of court-plaster stuck in my
throat, I relished the repast.
But not so the Professor. When he had searched some time for the
vest, he looked at me. As luck would happen, I had left sufficient
circumstantial evidence on the saddle to convict most any donkey,
but no one in particular. However, I suppose I looked guilty, and
my past record was against me. Pod was speechless a moment, then
he made up for lost time, and said that he believed a jackass
would devour a house and lot if he had the chance.
"I don't know about a house," I replied, "but I know I could eat a
lot if it were set before me." Then I caught it!
By nine o'clock the clouds having dispersed, we started for
Blairstown.
The Iowa farms were pleasing to my eye. Horses and cattle were
cropping the juicy grass, hogs were shelling corn or taking
mud-baths, fowls of all kinds were engaged in athletic sports
trying to add some new feather to their plumage, and occasional
bunches of sheep were standing in barnyards and corrals with wool
pulled over their eyes, not knowing what to do with themselves. It
looked like a Garden of Eden, where donkeys were excluded.
Finally we met a farmer with a team of lazy horses. Pod asked him
if a donkey was a known quantity in those parts, and was told that
a man by the name of K----, living near the next town, owned two
that he had been trying to give away. A mile beyond, we met a man
in a one-horse gig, who had a word to say, too. One donkey knows
another when he meets him.
"Your name is K----?" Pod inquired.
"That's the name I always went by," said the black-eyed, black-hearted
man. I did not like his looks; I felt it in my bones that
Pod was going to be "done" by him. When a man or donkey is over
anxious to acquire something, he is pretty sure to make a blunder.
On being catechised, the man said his business was "hoss tradin'
some, farmin' some, and various some."
"Hear you've got a donkey for sale," Pod observed.
"Nope," said K----, "but I've got two of 'em. Sell both er none."
"I was told you have tried to give them away," said Pod.
The "hoss trader" threw one leg over the other, spat tobacco juice
in Don's eyes so he couldn't see all that might a-cur, raked
timothy seed out of his whiskers, and inquired, "Who was tellin'
ye that?"
"The fellow didn't give his name," answered Pod, "and I wouldn't
undertake to describe his physical geography, but I could locate
him if I wished to."
"If I could lay my hands on him, I'd dislocate him," said K----,
snapping his eyes.
When my master told about his travels, the Iowan became
interested, and showed signs of weakening on his ultimatum.
Meanwhile, I discovered the subjects of the discussion grazing in
a meadow, and brayed them a courteous "how to do," thus calling
Pod's attention to them.
The hoss trader was sharp enough to see it, and his animal
instinct told him that vanity was Pod's weak point; so he opened
up with a little blarney.
"Now, Mr. Pod, I'm fair t' say I've sort o' takin' a likin' to ye,
and I want to help ye along. I'll sell both my donkeys for ten
dollars, er one for five and trade the other for one of your'n.
Jest let your partner here run across the field and drive 'em
over. I want ye to see 'em."
Coonskin went, and K---- continued: "They're two as fine-lookin'
jennies as ye'll run across in many a day, both healthy and
strong--not too young--not too old--often plow with 'em--kind and
gentle--boy rides 'em everywhere--fast, too, but no danger runnin'
away. Why, they're twice the size o' your'n, and 'll carry double
the load."
"I'm more than satisfied with my donkeys" (very flattering to
Cheese and myself), Pod affirmed, "and only require one more. If I
am suited with one of your donkeys, I am willing to pay five
dollars for it, but I will not trade one of mine, nor will I
purchase both of yours."
By this time the animals arrived. They were certainly big enough,
and as for the danger of their running away, they didn't act as if
they could run ten feet if charged with a thousand volts of
electricity. The farmer said he was bound to make a satisfactory
deal with Pod somehow, and that if he wasn't convinced by the time
we reached his house that both animals weren't superior to either
of his (an absurdity on the face of it), then he would consider
some other proposition.
When we reached the house, Cheese and I were generously fed, and
Pod and Coonskin invited into dinner. Then K---- chased his donks
around the yard, and felt them all over, and finally hoodwinked my
master to buy one, and trade the other for Cheese. I could have
kicked the daylight out of that man.
When K---- was on his way to town with his five dollars, Pod came
to the stable. My new companions were crabbed old spinsters, and
raised some objections to going with me.
"Where are you bound?" one asked.
"San Francisco," said I, "but I don't know where that is any more
than do you. Guess it's land's end." Then I told them how far I
had come, and that Pod said only a few days before that the
journey had only begun; also, that he expected we donks would fall
off some before long, from which I inferred the fall would be
gradual and the horrors of death prolonged.
It was enough to frighten the wits out of any old maid, and it
took a pitchfork, two hoe-handles and a crowbar to get those
donkeys out of the gate. Then one of them balked, kicked, threw
Coonskin, broke her halter, and ran back into the yard. She could
run after all.
That was enough for Pod. He rode me back into the yard, and told
Coonskin to fetch Cheese out of the barn. And it didn't take him
long to shift the blanket from that gray spinster to my old chum.
"You just tell your dad when he returns," said Pod to K----'s
son, "that I don't intend to put up with any such game. He grossly
misrepresented that donkey; it would take a week to travel a mile
with her. As I have paid him for the other one, she belongs to me
and I shall push her along with the outfit. But this animal," and
he pointed to Cheese, "is mine yet awhile. Good-bye."
"Do as you like," K----, Jr., replied. "I know nothin' 'bout yer
agreement."
We covered the first mile in slow time. Coonskin's new steed was
forever stopping, and straying out of the road to eat grass. The
young man wore himself out keeping her moving by rapping her with
the flat side of a hatchet. This big, brown jenny was made of the
right stuff, but evidently lacked training and experience.
We were yet a half mile to Blairstown when a young woman and a
child drove toward us with a skittish horse. It acted as though it
had never seen a donkey. It pricked up its ears, and snorted, and,
so help me Balaam! in a jiffy that buggy was on its side, the
girls on the ground, and the horse running to beat a cyclone.
Luckily, the girls escaped injury. My master was as frightened as
he was chivalrous, and assisting the girls to their feet, invited
them to ride us donkeys to town; which kind offer was respectfully
declined.
On our arrival, Pod took us to a blacksmith's to have the new
donkey's fore feet measured for a pair of shoes. The smith seemed
to be much taken with me, and said I had the smallest feet of all
the gentlemen donks he ever met. The remark so tickled my vanity
that I nibbled at his coat tail, whereupon he turned to me and
inquired, "What kind of a donkey are you? Chinese?"
"Not much," said I, indignantly, "My name is Irishy, and I always
supposed I was a thoroughbred Irish ass, but I'm beginning to
believe I'm a roamin' donkey, after all."
I could see that Pod expected trouble from some quarter, but none
of us knew just where the lightning would strike. The next
village, Luzerne, lay fifteen miles to the west. My lady companion
did not carry herself too gracefully, nor her rider, either. She
was broad and flat across the hips, and, as Coonskin did not
possess a saddle, he found it more comfortable to sit far back on
her where he could get a good swing of the fence rail he
substituted for a whip.
We were ambling peacefully along the dusty road late in the
afternoon, when Pod broke the silence with a word to his valet.
"Well, Coonskin," said he, "what 're you going to call your
donkey?"
"Damfino," said Coonskin; and he added, with a drawl, "Git ap."
"You ought to have found a suitable name by this time."
"I HAVE named her," emphasized the young man.
"Good!" shouted the Professor. "Let's have it then."
"Damfino," yelled Coonskin, with a wild swing of the fence rail.
Pod's face turned on its axis with a puzzled expression, as his
eyes regarded the hopeful pioneer. Said he, "See here, young man,
I know not whether my ears deceive me, or you are not up on my
dialect; you say you have named the donkey, yet, when I ask the
name, your answer implies a contradiction. Again, what is her
name?"
Coonskin drew a long breath, and said loud enough to be heard a
mile away, "Damfino."
As the fellow uttered the word, I dropped to the joke and,
stopping in the road, brayed till my sides ached.
A new light now came into the Professor's eyes, and he smiled.
"Damfino, then, is the lady's angelic name," said he resignedly.
"It's odd, it's not inappropriate. Let it stand."
"Very well," returned Coonskin, "I will proceed with the
ceremony." And letting the fence rail fall on his steed's rear
quarter, he added, "In the name of the great and only Balaam, I
christen thee Damfino." It was an interesting event. Thenceforth
Cheese and I resolved to be more choice in our language and
decorous in our manners in Miss Damfino's presence; and we lived
up to our pledge two hours before Cheese called Don and the
bull-terrier bad names for accidentally upsetting Miss Damfino
with their yoke, and I kicked the tired and panting mongrel in the
neighborhood of its pants.