_A Transfer_.
The increasing weakness of my beloved Mistress, left me at liberty to
amuse myself; but idleness was no longer pleasing, my duties had been
so moderate, and in themselves so delightful, nothing could be more
irksome than my situation when Miss Caroline used to employ me.
I heard something about a journey to Bristol, and such was my
ignorance, I actually considered myself included in the arrangement;
disappointment was my lot--they departed one morning ere I quitted my
shed, and to add to my melancholy Jenkins, whether from forgetfulness
or malice I know not, left me a prisoner during the whole day; in vain
I kicked and brayed, my efforts were unheeded, and it is probable I
should have been nearly famished had not the return of Mr. George,
late in the evening, procured my release. “Is the Donkey housed, Mrs.
Bennet?” said my young master, addressing the Housekeeper, who was
passing near my prison.
“Dear heart! why I’ant seen him to-day,” said she, “poor fellow if he’s
been locked up all this time, he must be almost starved.”
“This is Jenkins’s neglect,” replied Mr. George, opening the door; I
ran forward overjoyed to behold my kind friend.
“Dear Caroline!” he exclaimed, “your poor favorite is already doomed
to neglect,”--and following my footsteps, he seemed lost in his own
reflections. I snatched a hasty but plentiful meal; took two or three
trots across the paddock, and with due consideration for the fatigue
and feelings of my patron, retreated to my shed for the night.
The Doctor was absent nearly a fortnight; his return seemed deeply to
affect his son,--my young Mistress was no more, and every individual at
Penrose, not excepting Jenkins, evinced the most heart-felt sorrow on
this occasion.
I knew not what to think; days stole on, and if the full range of a
fertile meadow, gentle treatment, from such of the family as chance
threw in my way, if these ought to have made me content, I was a stupid
Ass not to prize them,--but my sweet Mistress had said, “comparison,
was the medium by which rational animals judge,” and could an Ass err
in adopting this mode.
Alas! what a contrast did my inactive life present to that which had
marked the days when Miss Morden’s pleasure guided my conduct. I have
some reason to believe that the Doctor and his son entertained similar
ideas respecting my situation; for, though I occasionally received
their kind notice, I observed the name of my Mistress would escape
their lips, as if they too were comparing the past with the present.
Whether idleness is really the parent of mischief I know not, it is
certain, want of occupation led me into a folly, which fatally injured
my future fortune. Tired by the monotony of my existence, I one morning
strolled down a shady lane, contiguous to Penrose, and charmed by
the fragrance, not less than the flavour of the hazel branches that
courted my acceptance, continued my walk; when, turning an angle, I
found myself in the high road. The morning was lovely, and though the
sun had scarcely risen, there was a chirping amongst the birds, and
an appearance of activity in the sons of men, which forcibly claimed
my attention. I saw labourers going to their work--waggons creeping
up the side of the hill,--while the inhabitants of a small Inn seemed
busily preparing to receive their guests. At length a heavy laden stage
approached; I stood gazing at the panting animals that drew it, when a
smart stroke on my back, caused me to recede a few paces;--it was the
coachman, who could not suffer an opportunity of shewing his _regard_
for _our_ species to escape him. As the horses were unloosed from the
carriage, and led to the stables, their languid appearance excited
my sympathy; comparison here seemed to place my Donkey hardships in
the most trivial point of view, nor did it escape me that the four
animals led out to supply their place looked jaded, and unfit to bear
the fatigue to which they were destined. I was beginning to rejoice
that I was not a horse, and I believe had made an apostrophe in the
true spirit of an Ass, when a sallow looking man, with an old kettle
upon his shoulder, fixed his eyes upon me; accustomed to admiration,
I concluded my beauty attracted his notice, and under this impression
slowly pursued my way; the man continuing to follow and talk to
me in the gentlest language. Descending a hollow, the face of the
country assumed another aspect; a large wood lay before me, and I
felt it would be imprudent to proceed. But what was my horror and
surprise, when this black-eyed gentleman seized me by the mane, and
slipping an old leather belt from his waist threw it round my neck and
expeditiously mounting my back, began urging me onward! My resistance
was prompt, and for some minutes effective; I dismounted him twice,
and bore the heaviest blows with determined courage,--till my brutal
antagonist in a rage struck me on the head with his kettle, and nearly
stunned me. Tortured almost to madness, I darted off at a pace which
again unseated my rider; thinking this the moment for escape, I left
him in a thicket and endeavoured to strike out a new path. I did so,
and ran until nearly exhausted; when hearing the cry of a child and
the buz of voices at a little distance, I hastened to the spot, where
a group of five or six persons were seated under a tree; my sudden
appearance startled them, but they received me with hospitality, and
kindly leading me to an adjacent tree secured me from farther fatigue
for the present, by fastening the tinker’s belt to one of its strongest
branches. As my agitation subsided, I took an opportunity of looking
at my neighbours; their features and complexion were unlike all I had
ever seen, except those of my recent enemy, and a prophetic tremor
shook my frame as I admitted the belief that I had introduced myself
into the family of my kettle acquaintance. My suspicion was soon
realized. The tinker arrived, and no sooner beheld me, than he broke
into an exclamation of joy. “So you are here are you, you rascal!”
said he--“you served me a pretty trick, but as I’ve got you at last, I
forgive you.”
This leniency was wholly unexpected, and my spirits rose in proportion.
But alas! this tranquillity was transient. To an Ass of my education,
nothing could be more uncongenial than my new mode of life. The
mysterious manner of my owners excited my surprise and curiosity; we
rarely travelled in daylight, and our lodgings were uniformly fixed in
the most unfrequented parts. There was a constant trepidation and alarm
amongst them on the appearance of a passenger; if the wind rustled
through the trees they hid their property of whatever description: and
though we mutually fed on excellent food, I do not remember to have
seen them _enjoy_ a single meal.
These facts were incomprehensible to me for some days; till, on our
arrival at Maidstone, in Kent, Dan, my unfeeling purloiner, returning
from a morning ramble, imparted his fears to his companions. “We must
be off,” said he, “there’s a notice for all vagrants to quit the town,
and I only axed for a job at one house, and they told me if a gipsy
made his appearance he should be sent to jail.” This intelligence
produced the utmost confusion in our party; and my back was destined
to feel its immediate effect. Two panniers were slung across me; our
remaining stock of provender, with the few cooking utensils that
belonged to these wanderers, seemed too _light_ a load in their
estimation, and a squalling child was added to my burthen. My legs
tottered under this enormous load, but it would have been useless to
contend at such a moment. Only one of the women with Dan accompanied
me: I heard something of arrangements for the night, but was too much
oppressed by my own sufferings to attend to them. What self accusations
were mine during this day! Penrose, and its quiet enjoyments, were
continually rising in my memory; and how often did I wish that the
ignorance of my guides might lead them into its beloved neighbourhood.
I misunderstood the character of my new owners; even though the fear of
justice had not taught them caution, their natural sagacity cannot be
questioned.
That we performed a long journey on this memorable day, my almost
sinking frame could have attested; and the circuitous route we were
compelled to make in order to avoid towns and villages added greatly
to its length. It was ten o’clock, when, after wading through a sandy
soil, similar as I should imagine to those countries[1] in which
_we_ formerly made a conspicuous figure, that Dan, with evident
satisfaction, pointed to a light and expressed his belief that
our friends were at hand. This intimation gave me new vigour: his
conjecture proved just: a large fire kindled beneath a shelving rock
concealed the gipsies, and a plentiful supper regaled them after their
fatigue. I must in justice declare, I never lived better than during
this period; but whether to attribute this to their humanity, or that
profusion is the attendant of profligacy, is not for me to determine.
I certainly availed myself of their liberality with no disposition (at
that time) to judge their conduct.
[1] Arabia, Persia and Egypt.
The assembled group now related the events of the day, which seemed to
give universal satisfaction: till one of the women added, that she had
heard a Donkey cried in the town of Tunbridge, and she was sure from
the description it was me. I was instantly on the alert. Hope took
possession of my bosom. Ah! and shall I again return to Penrose! sighed
I. The next moment damped my joy. “We must sell him then,” said Dan; “I
will set off in the morning and see what I can do.” Even this decision
bore something of promise:--I should be released from my present
ignominious mode of life, should no longer be the companion of thieves,
and perhaps at Tunbridge I might meet my old Mentor Balaam. I will own
there were other considerations which had their weight at that moment.
Tunbridge was a _fashionable_ place: it was, therefore, natural to
suppose some attention would be paid to the _exterior_ of a Donkey,
whose services were required by persons of fashion.
Surely, surely, vanity is the most formidable enemy to improvement!
viz. with Asses: for I conclude no _other_ class of animals are so
foolishly blind. Could any thing be more ridiculous than my again
fixing my thoughts on fine trappings, when I had so lately murmured at
my fate, though in the possession of these things? But I believe it is
necessary to our _true_ enjoyment of life that we should experience
some of its disappointments.
At an early hour next morning, Mr. Dan took leave of his companions,
promising to retain me if it could be done with safety. To my great
surprise the complexion of this gentleman was at least twenty shades
fairer on this morning; and I found from the jocose remarks of his
associates that _he_ was not a gipsy, but one of those criminal
beings who prefer a life of fraud to the not more laborious, though
respectable, calling of a mechanic. This change in the appearance of
Dan was adopted as favourable to his expected sale of your humble
servant; but even the adroitness of the _ci-devant_ gipsy was to
be foiled. We were in the environs of Tunbridge Wells, near what
are called the Bell Rocks: my ignorance in geography had led me to
think the Wells must be contiguous to the town of Tunbridge--I was
consequently surprised when Dan asked a waggoner if he thought there
was any chance of his selling me if he crossed the hill.
“It’s like enough, master, the place is very full,” replied the
waggoner. “But mayhap you _found_ this Donkey!” continued the man, “eh!
if that’s the case you’d better make your market that way, there’s one
been cried yesterday at Tunbridge Town.”
Dan muttered between his teeth, and coolly declaring I was his own
property, we pursued our way, but at a slackened pace. We had just
reached Mount Sion, and I was looking with delight on the fertile
valleys below, when a voice vociferated,
“Holla, mister! I say, where did you get that Donkey?”
Dan dropped from my back and approaching the window of a public house,
asked who called him.
“Where did you find that Donkey, I say?” resumed the man, whom I now
discovered to be Jenkins, my surly insulter at Penrose.
“Did you say you had lost a Donkey, Sir?” said Dan with the utmost
humility.
“Yes, we have lost one sure enough, and I’ve been a wild goose chase
after it too,” continued Jenkins advancing, “but I should like to know
where you found it, tell me that?”
“In ---- forest Sir, two days ago.”
“That’s a likely story truly; and now I look at your face, you rogue,
I remember you well; you stole a saucepan under pretence of mending it;
give me the Donkey and think yourself well off I dont send you to jail.”
Dan wholly denied having stolen me, declaring he never mended a
saucepan in his life, (which was perhaps true) and positively insisted
that he was taking me to Tunbridge, where he learned I had been cried,
and hoped to get the reward offered for me, as he was very poor, and
had a wife and seven children to support.
“You get no reward from me!” resumed Jenkins, seizing me from the
reluctant Dan, “make the best of your way out of this place, or you may
meet a reward you dont expect.”
The mortified Dan was forced to yield, the few persons who witnessed
the altercation being decidedly in favour of Jenkins. What
incomprehensible animals we Donkeys are! I, who had blushed for my
degradation as the servant of a gipsy, knew not how to rejoice at
falling into the hands of Jenkins: yet I trusted his power would be
temporary, and looked forward to resuming my gambols in the luxuriant
paddocks of Penrose.
Jenkins seemed in no hurry to depart; a rope procured from the
landlord, and fastened to the sign post just without the door, secured
me from straying, while it left me at liberty to observe my old enemy.
I saw Jenkins and his companions drinking, and afterwards playing with
spotted pieces of paper, I have since learned were cards; though the
party were at first cheerful, loud words ensued, yet they continued to
be amused with these things; at last the words,
“I’ll bet the Donkey on this hand,” reached my tired ears; I could
not comprehend what _I_ had to do with their employment; a short time
decided my fate. It seems Jenkins lost and I, in consequence, became
the property of his opponent. I thought Jenkins looked sad, as my new
master (a short coarse featured man) with an exulting smile, declared
I was a very fine Donkey, and would bring him in six shillings a day
at the least. These men whom I had seen so boisterous and apparently
friendly, parted in the most ungracious manner. I was led to a poor
hovel of a shed, in which I found two Donkeys reposing after the
fatigues of the day; while I, who had fasted since the morning, was
left to my own reflections.
The unprincipled conduct of Dan, increased by the wilful falsehoods
he had uttered, left a serious impression on my mind; yet, upon
contrasting Jenkins’s unjust transfer of his master’s property, _he_
appeared infinitely more reprehensible. He was a confidential servant,
considered worthy of trust, and, though I would not defend the lawless
depredations of my gipsy acquaintance, one does not expect the same
correctness from those who exclude themselves from the influence of
good example.
Now Jenkins lived in the bosom of a family eminent for their virtues,
while Dan, by long association with the vicious, had become in a manner
a stranger to those obligations by which man is bound to man and
forbidden to do that to another he would consider unjust if applied to
himself. But I must not expatiate on this subject; it is infinitely
above my capacity, and you are no doubt impatient to hear how I was
received amongst the fashionable Donkeys at Tunbridge.