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[Illustration: “I ATE UP SEVERAL CABBAGES.”]




  THE

  STORY OF A DONKEY


  ABRIDGED FROM THE FRENCH OF

  MADAME LA COMTESSE DE SÉGUR

  BY CHARLES WELSH

  EDITED BY

  CHARLES F. DOLE

  _ILLUSTRATED BY E. H. SAUNDERS_

  BOSTON, U.S.A.
  D. C. HEATH & CO., PUBLISHERS
  1904

  COPYRIGHT, 1901,
  BY D. C. HEATH & CO.




Dedication.

TO MY PRESENT LITTLE MASTER, HARRY.


  MY DEAR LITTLE MASTER,

You have been kind to _me_, but you have spoken contemptuously of
donkeys in general. I want you to know better what sort of animals
donkeys really are, and so I have written for you this story of my
life. You will see, my dear little Master, that we donkeys have been,
and still are, often badly treated by human beings. We are often very
nice indeed; but I must also confess that in my youth I sometimes
behaved very badly, and you will see how I was punished for it, and
how unhappy I was, and how at last I repented, and how at last my
repentance changed me and gained for me the forgiveness of my friends
and masters. So, when you have read my history, you won’t say any
more “as stupid as a donkey,” or “as obstinate as a donkey,” but “as
sensible as a donkey,” “as clever as a donkey,” or “as gentle as a
donkey.”

Hee-haw! my dear little Master, hee-haw! I hope you will never be as
_I_ was when I was young.

  I remain,

  Your obedient servant,

  NEDDY.




PREFACE.


I do not recollect my childhood; I was probably as unhappy as the rest
of the little donkeys are; and no doubt as pretty and as graceful.
Certainly I was full of wit and intelligence, for, old as I am now, I
have more of both than most donkeys possess.

I have often outwitted some of my poor masters, who, being only men,
could not be expected to have the intelligence of a donkey,—and I will
begin my Memoirs with the story of a trick I once played in the days of
my youth.




INTRODUCTION.


The author of this book was the daughter of that Count Rostopchine
who was governor of Moscow when it was burned in 1812, and Napoleon
was obliged in consequence to make his disastrous retreat from that
city. Born in 1799, Sophie de Rostopchine married, in 1821, the Count
de Ségur, a son of one of the oldest and proudest families of France.
She was a very accomplished and lovable person, and, as her writings
attest, she was thoroughly in sympathy with the ways and feelings of
children.

She did not begin to publish her stories until she was fifty-seven
years of age, but between that date and the time of her death in 1874,
she wrote and brought out a great many books for children.

The “Memoirs of a Donkey,” published in 1860, is one of the most
popular, wholesome, and entertaining of her books. It is longer in the
original than the version here given, as it contains a great number
of scenes that could interest only the boys and girls of France; and
there are many incidents in which the donkey scarcely figures. We have,
therefore, given in this book the story of Neddy, the donkey. His
adventures are interesting and amusing enough by themselves, and as
there has been nothing quite like them originally written in English,
we have included this retelling of the story in our Home and School
Classics.




LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.


  “I ate up several cabbages”      _Frontispiece_

  “I jumped clean over the hedge”                                     5

  “I galloped along”                                                 11

  “We were placed along the wall”                                    16

  “I galloped to the other end of the meadow”                        24

  “I drank up a bowl of cream”                                       27

  “The boys shouted”                                                 29

  “I was ahead of all”                                               33

  “I followed him all the way”                                       37

  “Jack and Janie took the greatest care of me”                      42

  “The gentlemen and boys formed a broad line across the field”      45

  “A sad procession”                                                 49

  “Muffles took the bunch of flowers”                                54

  “In order to clear a path”                                         58

  “Along the edge of the ditch”                                      61

  “I took the hat in my teeth”                                       67


AND TEN SMALLER ONES IN THE TEXT.




The Story of a Donkey.

[Illustration]




CHAPTER I.


Men, poor things, can’t be expected to be as wise as donkeys, and
therefore you probably do not know that there was a market in our
country-town every Tuesday. At this market vegetables were sold, and
butter, and eggs, and cheese, and fruit, and many other nice things.

Tuesday was a miserable day for the poor donkeys, and especially
for me. I belonged to a farmer’s wife, and she was very severe and
ill-tempered. Just think! every week she used to load up my back with
all the eggs her hens laid, all the butter and cheese she made from
the milk of her cows, all the vegetables and fruit that were ready for
market out of her garden. Then she would get on the top of all this
and beat me with a hard, knotty stick because my poor thin legs didn’t
carry her to market with all that load as fast as she liked. I trotted,
I almost galloped, but that farmer’s wife whipped me all the same. I
used to get very angry at such cruelty and injustice. I tried to kick
her off, but I was loaded down too heavily, and so I could only wobble
about from side to side; but I _did_ have the satisfaction of knowing
that she was well jolted. Then she would growl, “Ah, you wretched
animal! see if I don’t teach you to wobble!” and she would beat me
again till I could scarcely keep on my legs.

One day we reached the market-town in this way, and the baskets with
which my poor back had been nearly crushed were taken off and set down
upon the ground. My mistress hitched me to a post, and went away to
get her dinner. I was dying of hunger and thirst, but nobody thought
of offering _me_ a single blade of grass or a drop of water. While the
farmer’s wife was away, I managed to get my head close to the basket
of vegetables, and made a dinner of the cabbages and lettuces. I never
tasted anything so good.

I had just finished the last cabbage and the last lettuce in that
basket when my mistress came back. She cried out when she saw the empty
basket, and I looked at her with such an impudent and self-satisfied
air, that she at once guessed that _I_ was the culprit. I won’t repeat
to you the mean things she said to me. When she was angry she used
language which was enough to make me blush, donkey as I am. So after
heaping me with abuse, of which I took no notice, she seized her stick
and began to beat me so severely, that at last I lost patience and
launched out three kicks. The first kick broke her nose and two teeth,
the second sprained her wrist, and the third knocked her flat.

A score of people at once set upon me and knocked me about. They picked
up my mistress and carried her away, leaving me fastened to the post,
by the side of which were spread out the things I had brought to be
sold in the market. I remained there a long while, and finding that
no one paid any more attention to me, I ate a second basketful of
excellent vegetables, and then with my teeth I gnawed through the cord
that tied me up, and quietly took the road home.

The people I passed on the way were astonished to see me all alone.

“Look,” said one, “see that ass with the broken nose! He has run away.”

“Then he has run away from prison,” said the other, and they all began
to laugh.

“He doesn’t carry a heavy load upon his back,” said a third.

“Certainly he has done some mischief,” a fourth one said.

“Catch him and we will put the little one upon his back,” said a woman.

“He will carry you as well as the little boy,” answered her husband.

I, wishing to give a good opinion of my kindness and good will, came
gently towards the country woman and stopped near her to let her mount
upon my back.

“He doesn’t seem a bad sort!” said the man, helping his wife to the
saddle.

I smiled with pity on hearing this remark. Bad! as if a donkey kindly
treated were ever bad! We become angry, disobedient, and obstinate only
to revenge ourselves for the blows and injuries we receive. When we are
well treated we are good,—much better, in fact, than many other animals.

I took the young woman and her little child of two years back to their
home; they stroked me, were very much pleased with me, and would
willingly have kept me.

But it was, I thought, not honest to stay with them. My masters had
bought me and I belonged to them. I had already broken my mistress’s
nose, teeth, and wrist, and had kicked her in the stomach. I was
sufficiently revenged.

[Illustration: “I JUMPED CLEAN OVER THE HEDGE.”]

Seeing that the mother was going to give in to her little boy (who I
noticed was a spoiled child), I jumped to one side, and before the
mother could catch my bridle again, I ran away at a gallop and came
back to my home.

Mary, my mistress’s little girl, saw me come back.

“Hallo, here’s Neddy,” she said; “how early he is! Jim, come and take
off his pack-saddle.”

“That wretched donkey!” growled Jim; “always something to be done for
him! Why is he alone? I suspect he has run away from mother.”

My saddle and bridle were taken off, and I galloped away to the meadow.
Suddenly I heard shrieks. I looked over the hedge, and saw some men
carrying my mistress home. Then I heard Jim say:—

“I say, father, I’m going to take the cart-whip, and I shall tie that
donkey to a tree, and then whip him till he can’t stand.”

“All right, my lad,” said my master, “but mind and don’t kill him, for
he cost money. I’ll sell him next fair-day.”

I shuddered when I heard this. There wasn’t a moment to be lost. This
time I did not care whether they lost their money or not. I made a run
and jumped clean over the hedge. Then I ran till I was out of sight
and hearing in the depths of a beautiful large forest, where there was
plenty of soft grass to eat, and plenty of sparkling brooks to drink
from.

[Illustration]




CHAPTER II.


Next day after, I thought over my good fortune. “Here I am saved,”
thought I; “they never will find me, and in a couple of days, when I am
quite rested, I will go farther on.”

Just then I heard the far-off barking of a dog; then of a second one;
and several minutes afterwards the yelling of a whole pack. Restless
and frightened, I got up and went towards a little brook that I had
noticed in the morning. I had hardly ventured into the water, when I
heard Jules saying to the dogs, “Go on, go on, dogs, search him out,
find this miserable donkey, and bring him back to me.”

I nearly fell down with fright, but I quickly remembered that if I
walked in the water the dogs could not follow my scent. So I began to
run in the brook which was fortunately bordered on both sides with
thick bushes.

I went on for a long time without stopping. The barking of the dogs
as well as the voice of Jules became fainter, until at last I heard
nothing more.

Breathless and exhausted I rested a minute to drink. I ate a few leaves
off the bushes. My legs were stiff with cold, but I did not dare to get
out of the water lest the dogs might come upon my scent again. When I
had rested a little, I set off again, always following the brook until
I got out of the forest. I then found myself in a meadow where over
fifty cattle were grazing. I lay down in the sun in a corner of the
field. The cattle paid no attention to me, so that I could rest at my
ease.

Towards evening two men came into the meadow. “Brother,” said the
taller of the two, “shall we take the cattle in to-night? They say
there are wolves in the woods.”

“Wolves! Who told you that nonsense?”

“People say that the donkey from the farm has been taken away and eaten
in the forest.”

“Bah! don’t believe it; the people of that farm are so wicked that they
have killed their donkey with bad treatment.”

“Then why do they say that the wolves have eaten him?”

“So that people won’t know that they have killed him.”

“We had better take in our cattle, all the same.”

“Do as you wish, brother; it is all one to me.”

I was in such fear of being seen that I lay in my corner and did not
stir; fortunately the grass was long and hid me; the cattle were not on
the side where I was. The men drove them towards the gate, and then to
the farm where their masters lived.

I was not afraid of wolves, because the donkey of whom they spoke was
myself, and because I had not seen the tail of a wolf in the forest
where I passed the night. So I slept beautifully and was finishing my
breakfast when the cattle came back to the meadow, guarded by two large
dogs.

I was looking at them, when one of the dogs saw me, and, barking
fiercely, ran towards me, his companion following. What should I do?
how could I escape them?

I flew towards the hedges surrounding the meadow, through which ran the
brook I had followed. I was fortunate enough to jump over it, and I
heard the voice of one of the men I had seen yesterday, calling off his
dogs.

I went on my way at my ease, and walked as far as another forest, the
name of which I don’t know. I must have gone more than ten miles. I
was saved; nobody knew me; and I could show myself without fear of
being taken back to my former masters.

But it began to grow cold, for winter was coming on, and I thought
it high time to look out for a comfortable home. I trotted on right
through the forest, and out at the other side, and after some days’
travelling, I arrived at a village that I had never seen or heard of
before. Here I felt I should be safe.

Just outside the village there stood a little cottage in a garden quite
by itself. It was very clean and neat. An old woman was sitting by the
door doing some needlework. I thought she looked both kind and sad; so
I went up to her, and put my head on her shoulder.

The good woman gave a shriek, and jumped up quickly.

I did not move, but lifted my face towards hers with a gentle and
pleading look.

“Poor thing!” she said at last; “you don’t look like a bad creature.
If you don’t belong to any one, you shall take the place of my poor
Greycoat, who died the other day of old age, and I shall still be able
to earn my living by taking my vegetables to market to sell. But,” she
added, with a sigh, “you’ve got a master somewhere, I’ll be bound.”

“Granny, whom are you talking to?” said a pleasant voice from the
house, and a nice little boy came out of the door. He was six or seven
years old, poorly but very neatly dressed. He looked at me, half
admiring, half afraid.

[Illustration: “I GALLOPED ALONG.” P. 12.]

“Granny, may I stroke him?” he said.

“Of course you may, George, my dear; but take care he doesn’t bite you.”

The little boy stretched up his hand, but he was so short that he had
to stand on tiptoe before he could reach my back. I didn’t move, for
fear of frightening him; I only turned my head round, and licked his
hand.

“Oh, granny, granny! just see! what a dear donkey! he licked my hand!”

“It’s very strange,” said George’s grandmother, “that he should be here
all by himself. Go to the village, my dear, and ask whether anybody has
lost a donkey. Perhaps his master is very anxious about him.”

George set off at a run, and I trotted after him. When he saw me come
up, and then stand still by a mound on the roadside, he climbed up on
my back, and said, “_Gee up!_”

I galloped along, and George was enchanted. When we got to the village
inn, George cried, “_Whoa back!_” and I stopped immediately.

“What do you want, laddie?” said the innkeeper.

“Please, sir, do you know whose donkey this is?”

The innkeeper came out, and looked me all over. “No, my boy, he isn’t
mine, and he doesn’t belong to any one I know. Go and ask farther on.”

So George went through the village asking the same question, but nobody
had ever seen me before. At last we went back to the good old woman,
who was still sitting with her work at the cottage door.

“So you can’t find his master, my dear? Very well, then, we may keep
him till he is claimed. He mustn’t stay out all night. Take him to
Greycoat’s shed, and give him some hay and a pail of water.”

The next morning George came to fetch me out of the shed, and gave me
some breakfast. Then he put on the halter, and took me round to the
cottage door. The old woman put a light pack-saddle on my back and
mounted. Then George brought her a basket of vegetables, which she took
on her knee, and we set off to market. Nobody in this market-town had
ever seen or heard of me, and I came back joyfully to my new home.

I lived there for four years, and was very happy. I did my work well
and never did anybody any harm. I loved my good old mistress and my
little master. They never beat me or overworked me, and they gave me
the best food they could. We donkeys are not dainty. The outside leaves
of vegetables and plants that cows and horses won’t eat, and hay and
potato-peel and carrots and turnips, are all we need.

[Illustration]




CHAPTER III.


On some days, however, I was not so happy, for my mistress, now and
then, hired me out to the children in the neighborhood. She was not
well off, and on the days when she had nothing for me to do she was
glad to earn something in this way.

And the people who hired me were not always good to me, as the
following story will show:—

There were six donkeys in a row in the courtyard; I was the strongest
and one of the most beautiful. Three little girls brought us oats in a
bucket; as I ate I listened to the children talking.

_Charles._—Come along, let us choose our donkeys. I’ll begin by taking
this one (pointing me out with his finger).

“Yes, you always take what you think is the best,” said the six
children all at once. “We must draw lots.”

_Charles._—How can we draw lots, Caroline? Can we put the donkeys in a
bag and draw them out like marbles?

_Anthony._—Ha! ha! ha! The idea of donkeys in a bag! As if one could
not number them 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6. Put the numbers in a bag and draw
them out as they come.

“That is so, that is so,” cried the five others. “Ernest, make the
number slips while we write them on the backs of the donkeys.”

“These children are stupid,” said I to myself; “if they had the sense
of a donkey, instead of giving themselves the trouble of writing the
numbers on our backs, they would simply place us along the wall; then
the first would be 1, the second 2, and so on.”

Meanwhile Anthony had brought a large piece of charcoal. I was the
first. He wrote a large 1 on my flank; while he was writing 2 on that
of my comrade, I shook myself to show him that his invention was not
very clever. In a moment the 1 had disappeared. “Stupid,” cried he, “I
must begin again.”

While he was doing his number 1 over again, my comrade, who had seen
me, and who was clever, shook himself in his turn. There was the 2
gone. Then Anthony began to get angry, and the others laughed and
teased him. I made a sign to my comrades to let them go on, and then
not one of us moved after being marked. Ernest returned with the
numbers in his pocket-handkerchief. Each one drew.

While they were looking at their numbers, I made another sign to my
comrades, and we all shook ourselves vigorously. Charcoal and numbers
disappeared and all must be done over again! The children were angry;
Charles was triumphant and sneering; Ernest, Albert, Caroline, Cecil
and Louise, crying out against Anthony, who stamped his feet. They
began to quarrel with each other, and my comrades and I began to bray.

[Illustration: “WE WERE PLACED ALONG THE WALL.”]

The noise brought out the fathers and the mothers, to whom the matter
was explained. One of the fathers at last thought of placing us in
order along the wall. Then they made the children draw the numbers.
“One!” cried Ernest. It was I. “Two!” said Cecil. It was one of my
friends. “Three!” said Anthony, and so on until the last donkey was
drawn. “Now, let us go,” said Charles; “I will start first.” “Oh! I
shall catch up with you,” quickly answered Ernest. “I’ll wager you
won’t,” said Charles. “I’ll wager I will,” replied Ernest. Charles
struck his donkey and started at a gallop. Before Ernest had time to
strike me with his whip, I started also, and at a rate which enabled us
soon to overtake Charles and his donkey.

Ernest was delighted; Charles was furious and beat his donkey
repeatedly. Ernest had no need to beat me; I ran like the wind, and
passed Charles in a minute. I heard the others following, laughing and
shouting.

“Bravo! donkey Number 1! He runs like a horse.” Pride gave me courage.
I continued to gallop until we reached a bridge, where I stopped
suddenly, for I saw that one of the large boards of the bridge was
rotten. I did not wish to fall into the water with Ernest, so I decided
to return to the others, who were far, far behind us.

“Gee up! Gee up! Donkey!” said Ernest, “over the bridge, my friend,
over the bridge.” I would not go on; he hit me with his stick, but I
continued to walk towards the others. “Obstinate, stupid brute! will
you turn round and cross the bridge?” said he. I walked on towards my
comrades, and joined them in spite of the insults and blows of this
wicked boy.

“Why do you beat your donkey, Ernest?” cried Caroline; “he is very
good; he took you like lightning, and made you pass Charles.” “I beat
him because he would not cross the bridge,” said Ernest; “he took it
into his head to turn back.” “Nonsense! that was because he was alone;
now that we are all together, he will cross the bridge like the others.”

“Unhappy children,” thought I, “they all will tumble into the river. I
must try to show them that there is danger;”—and again I started at a
gallop, running towards the bridge, to the great satisfaction of Ernest
and the other children, who shouted with joy. I galloped to the bridge,
but as soon as I got there, I stopped suddenly as if I were afraid.
Ernest was astonished, and urged me to go on. I drew back with a
frightened look which still more surprised Ernest. The silly fellow saw
nothing: the rotten board was, nevertheless, in plain sight. Presently
the others rejoined us and looked on laughingly at Ernest’s attempts to
make me cross. Then they got off their donkeys and each one pushed me
and beat me without pity. But I did not stir.

“Pull him by his tail,” cried Charles; “donkeys are so stubborn, that
when you want them to go backwards they go forwards.” Then they tried
to catch hold of my tail.

I defended myself by kicking, upon which they all beat me at once, but
in spite of this I would not move.

“Wait, Ernest,” said Charles, “I will go over first; your donkey will
certainly follow me.”

He started to go on; I put myself across the entrance to the bridge. He
made me turn by dint of blows.

“All right,” said I, “if this naughty boy wishes to drown himself, let
him. I did what I could to save him; let him drown if he wishes so much
to do so.”

No sooner had his donkey put his foot upon the rotten board than it
broke, and there was Charles and his donkey in the water!

There was no danger for my comrade, because, like all donkeys, he could
swim.

Charles struggled in frantic attempts to get out. “A stick! a stick!”
he cried. The children screamed and ran here and there. At last
Caroline found a long stick, picked it up and gave it to Charles, who
seized it; but his weight dragged down Caroline, who called out for
help.

Ernest, Anthony, and Albert ran to her. At last the unhappy Charles,
who had by this time got more than he bargained for, was pulled out
of the water soaked from head to foot. When he was safe the children
began to laugh at his doleful appearance. Charles growing angry, the
children jumped upon their donkeys and advised him to return to his
home to change his clothes. Dripping wet he remounted his donkey. I
laughed to myself at his ridiculous appearance.

[Illustration]

The current had swept away his hat and his shoes; the water ran in
streams from his clothes; his soaked, wet hair stuck to his face, and
his furious look made him a thoroughly comical sight. The children
laughed; my comrades jumped and ran to express their joy. I must add
that Charles’s donkey was detested by all of us, because, unlike most
donkeys, he was quarrelsome, greedy, and stupid.

At last, Charles having disappeared, the children and my comrades were
calmed down. Every one stroked me and admired my cleverness. We all
set out again, I at the head of the party.

But these lively times were coming to an end. One day, George’s father,
who was a soldier, came home from the army and bought a house in town.
His mother and his little boy went to live with him, and I was sold to
a neighboring farmer.

[Illustration]




CHAPTER IV.


My new master was not a bad sort of man, but he had what I thought was
an unpleasant habit of making everybody work very hard. He used to
harness me to a little cart, and make me carry earth and apples and
wood and many other things. I began to grow lazy; I didn’t enjoy going
in harness, and I disliked market-days very much. It wasn’t that they
made me draw too heavy a load or that they beat me, but I had to go
without anything to eat from morning till three or four o’clock in the
afternoon. When the weather was hot I nearly died of thirst, and yet
I had to wait till everything was sold, and my master had got all his
money.

I wasn’t always good in those days. I wanted them to treat me kindly,
and as they didn’t, I began to think of revenge. You see that donkeys
are not always stupid, but you also see that I was growing bad.

On market-days in the summer the people at the farm always got up very
early to cut the vegetables and gather the eggs and churn the butter,
while I was still lying out in the meadow. I used to watch all this
going on, knowing that at eight o’clock they would come and fetch me to
be harnessed to the cart.

One day I determined to play them a trick.

In the meadow I had noticed a deep ditch filled with thistles and
blackberry bushes. “Now,” I said to myself, “I’ll hide in that ditch,
so that when they come to fetch me there’ll be no donkey anywhere to
be seen.” So, as soon as I saw the cart being filled and the people
bustling about, I ran off to the side of the field, and lay down very
softly in the ditch, so that I was quite hidden by the bushes.

In a little while I heard one of the farm boys call me, and then run
looking about for me everywhere, and at last go back to the farm. In a
few minutes I heard the farmer himself say, “He must have got through
the hedge. But where _could_ he have broken through? There doesn’t
seem to be a hole anywhere. Oh, I know! some one must have left the
gate open. Who was it? Here, boys, run out and look in the fields over
yonder! He can’t be far off. And make haste, for it’s getting late.”

So all the farm help turned out to look for me. It was broiling
weather, and after a while the poor people came back very hot, very
limp, and panting for breath. The farmer declared that I must have been
stolen, and that I was a great donkey to let any one steal me, and so
on. Then he harnessed one of the horses to the cart, and drove off late
to market, in a very bad temper.

[Illustration: “I GALLOPED TO THE OTHER END OF THE MEADOW.”]

When I saw that all was quiet again, and that nobody was looking, I
scrambled out of my ditch, and galloped off to the other end of the
meadow, so that they shouldn’t suspect where I’d been. Then I opened my
mouth, and began to _hee-haw! hee-haw!_ with all my might.

At this noise, all the people at the farm rushed out.

“Hello! why, there he is!” said the shepherd.

“Where has he been all this while?” said the mistress.

“How did he get in again?” said the carter.

I was so delighted not to go to market, that I went prancing up to
them. They were very glad to see me; they patted me, and said I was
a good, clever donkey to have managed to escape from the thieves who
had stolen me, till I felt quite ashamed of myself, for I knew that I
didn’t deserve all this, and that I did deserve the stick. Then they
left me to graze all day in the meadow, and I should have enjoyed
myself very much, if my conscience hadn’t given me such a bad time of
it.

The farmer was very much surprised to see me when he came home. The
next day he went all round the meadow, and carefully stopped up every
hole he could find in the hedge, until there wasn’t room for a cat to
get through.

The week passed quietly away until market-day came again, and then I
hid myself in the ditch as before. The people at the farm could not
make it out, and thought that the thieves who stole me were unusually
clever.

“This time,” said the farmer, “he must be really lost and gone for
good,” and he harnessed one of the horses and went off to market as
before. When everything was quiet I came out again, but this time I
thought I had better not say “_hee-haw!_” to let them know I was there.
When at last they found me, they didn’t stroke or pat me, and they said
so little that I thought they must suspect something. But I didn’t
care, and I said to myself,—

“Ah, yes, my good friends, you’ll think yourselves very clever if you
find me out, but I don’t intend you shall,” and so when market-day came
round, I made for my ditch for the third time.

But scarcely was I safely hidden among the thistles and blackberry
bushes, when I heard the big watch-dog bark, and then the voice of the
farmer say,—

“Here, Rover, Rover, good dog, then! go and look for him!” and in a
moment Rover had pounced upon my hiding-place, and was growling and
snapping at my heels in a most unpleasant manner. I made for the hedge,
and tried to force a way through, but in vain.

“Good dog, good Rover, good dog!” shouted the farmer, and he threw a
lasso at me, which caught me and stopped me short. Then he led me back
and tied me up, and I heard that one of the farmer’s little boys had
been watching the meadow from a place where I couldn’t see him, and
that he had told where I was.

[Illustration: “I DRANK UP A BOWL OF CREAM.” P. 28.]

After that I was much more severely treated. They shut me up, but I
learned how to draw bolts and lift up latches with my teeth, and so get
out. All day long you might have heard the people of the farm saying,
“_Oh!_ there’s that donkey _again_!” The farmer grumbled and beat me,
but I became worse and worse. I compared my wretched life now with the
happy one I had led in former days under the same master, and instead
of trying to leave off behaving badly, I became more and more naughty
and obstinate every day. One day I went into the kitchen garden and ate
up all the lettuce; another day I knocked down the little boy who had
told tales about me; another day I drank up a bowl of cream that had
been set outside the door ready for churning. I trod on the fowls, and
bit the pigs, till at last the mistress said she couldn’t stand it any
longer, and she begged her husband to sell me at the next fair.

So, when the fair-day came, my master took me away.

He sold me to a family where there was a little invalid girl whom I had
to take out; but I didn’t stay there long, for the little girl died,
and then her parents, who had never liked me, turned me adrift to go
where I pleased, and to live as best I could.

[Illustration: “THE BOYS SHOUTED.” P. 30.]




CHAPTER V.


All the next winter I had no one to take care of me. I had to live
in the forest, where I found scarcely enough to keep me from dying
of hunger and thirst. I had plenty of time to think how wicked I’d
been; how happy I was until I had given myself over to laziness, and
spitefulness, and revenge; and to make up my mind to turn over a new
leaf if ever I got the chance.

When the spring came, I went one day to a village on the edge of the
forest, and was surprised to find quite a commotion there. The people
were walking up and down; everybody had on his Sunday clothes; and,
what was stranger still, all the donkeys in the neighborhood seemed
to be there. They were sleek and fat, their heads were decorated with
flowers and leaves, and not one of them was in harness or had a rider.

I trotted up to see if I could find out what all this was about, when
suddenly one of the boys who were standing there saw me, and shouted,—

“Oh, I say, look here! here’s a fine donkey!”

“My word!” said another, “how well groomed he is! and how fat and well
fed!” and they roared with laughter.

“I suppose he’s come to run in the donkey race,” said a third, “but
_he_ won’t win the prize! No fear!”

I was very much annoyed at these rude jokes and personal remarks; but I
thought I should enjoy taking part in the race, so I listened again.

“Where are they going to run?” asked an old dame, who had just come up.

“In the meadow by the mill,” said a man named Andrew.

“How many donkeys are there?” asked the old woman.

“Sixteen, Mother Evans, and the one that comes in first will win a
silver watch and a bag of money.”

“Oh, deary me!” said Mother Evans, “I do wish _I_ had a donkey. I
_should_ so like to have a watch. I’ve never had the money to buy one.”

I liked the look of this old woman; I was justly proud of my running; I
had been so long in the forest that I was not too fat, as some of these
prize donkeys were; and so I _would_ take part in the race. I trotted
up to the others, and took my place among them, and then, to attract
attention, I opened my mouth and brayed vigorously.

“Oh, you stop that!” cried out a man named Bill. “Hi! you there,
donkey, you just stop that music, will you? and get out of there! _You_
can’t run, you shabby brute! and, besides, you don’t belong to anybody.”

I held my tongue, but I didn’t budge an inch. Some laughed, and others
were getting angry, when old Mother Evans said:—

“Well, he can have _me_ for his mistress. I take him into my service
from this minute. So now he can run for me.”

“Well,” said Bill, “do as you like, mother. Only if you want him to
run, you’ve got to put a quarter into the bag the Squire has yonder.”

“All right, my dear,” said Mother Evans, and she hobbled off to where
the Squire was sitting and paid her subscription into the bag.

“Very good,” said the Squire; “put Mrs. Evans’s name down, Richard.”

So the clerk put down my new mistress’s name. We were all drawn up in a
line in the meadow. The Squire said, “One, two, three, and away!” the
boys who held the donkeys let them go, and away we galloped as hard as
we could, while the crowd ran cheering alongside.

The sixteen donkeys had not gone a hundred yards before I was in front
of them all, an easy first. I thought I _would_ beat them all now, at
any rate, and I flew along as if I had wings. I passed proudly before
the winning-post, not only first, but a long way ahead of all the rest,
amid loud cheers from those who had no donkeys in the race.

[Illustration: “I WAS AHEAD OF ALL.”]

The Squire sat at a table to give away the prizes, and Mother Evans,
who was almost beside herself with delight, stroked and patted me, and
led me up to the table with her to receive the first prize.

“Here, my good woman,” said the Squire; and he was just going to hand
the watch and the bag of money to the old woman.

“Please, your worship, it isn’t fair!” cried Bill and Andrew. “It
isn’t fair! That donkey doesn’t really belong to Mother Evans any more
than it does to us! _Our_ donkeys really got in first, not counting
this one. The watch and money ought to be ours. It isn’t fair!”

“Did Mrs. Evans pay her quarter into the bag?” said the Squire.

“Well, your worship, she did, but—”

“Did any of you object to her doing so at the time?” asked the Squire.

“Well, no, your worship, but—”

“Did you raise any objection when the donkeys were just going to start?”

“Well, no, sir, but—”

“Very well, then. It’s all perfectly fair, and Mrs. Evans gets the
watch and bag of money.”

“Please, sir, it isn’t fair, it isn’t fair! You—”

When I heard this, I at once put my head down on the table, and taking
up the watch and bag in my teeth, put them into Mother Evans’s hands.
This intelligent action on my part made the people roar with laughter,
and won for me thunders of applause.

“There!” said the Squire, “the donkey has decided in favor of Mother
Evans; and,” he added, with a smile, looking at Bill and Andrew, “I
don’t think _he_ is the biggest donkey present!”

“Bravo, your worship!” “Good for you!” resounded on all sides. And
every one began to laugh at Andrew and Bill, who went away looking
cross and ill-tempered.

And was _I_ pleased? No, not at all. My pride was hurt. The Squire had
been very rude to me; he had actually put men, these stupid men, on a
level with an intelligent and right-minded donkey like myself! It was
too much! I declined to stay in a place where I was so insulted, and I
turned tail and trotted away from such an ignorant set of people.




CHAPTER VI.


Presently I stopped. I was in a meadow. I felt tired and sad. I was
just asking myself whether donkeys were not a great deal better than
human beings, when a soft little hand touched me, and a soft little
voice said:—

“Oh, _poor_ donkey! How thin you are! Perhaps you’ve been badly
treated. Come home and see my grandma! _She’ll_ take good care of you.”

I looked round. There stood a nice little boy about five years old; his
little sister, who was only three, was running by the side of their
nurse.

“What’s that you’re saying, Master Jack?” said the nurse.

“Oh, nursie, I am telling him to come home with us to see grandma.”

“Yes, yes!” cried the little girl, whose name was Janie; “and let me
ride on his back. Nurse, up, up!”

The nurse put the little girl on my back, and Jack wanted to lead me,
but of course I had no bridle on, so he came up and stroked me softly
and whispered in my ear:—

“Gee up, Neddy! Come along, dear Neddy!”

[Illustration: “I FOLLOWED HIM ALL THE WAY.” P. 38.]

I was so pleased with this little boy’s trusting me, that I at once
followed him all the way, occasionally touching his hand with my nose.

“Oh, nurse, nurse—look! He’s kissing me!” cried Jack.

“Nonsense, my dear!” said the nurse. “He does that because he smells
the piece of bread you have in your pocket.”

I was so hurt at this unkind remark from the nurse, that I turned my
head away all the rest of the time we were going to the house of the
children’s grandmamma.

When we got there they left me at the door and ran in, and in a few
minutes they returned with a kind-looking, pretty old lady with white
hair.

“Look, grandma, isn’t he a dear donkey?” said Jack, clasping his hands.
“And oh, grandma, may we keep him?”

“Let me see him closer, my dears,” said the old lady, and she came down
and patted me, and felt my ears and put her hand into my mouth. I stood
perfectly still, and was very careful not to bite her, even by mistake.

“Well, he _does_ look gentle, my dears,” said the old lady. “Emily,”
she added, to the nurse, “tell the coachman to make inquiries to find
out to whom he belongs, and if he is not reclaimed, we will keep him,
at any rate for the present. Poor creature, how thin and neglected he
looks! Jack, go and call Robert; I shall have him put in the stable,
with something to eat and drink.”

The stableman came and led me away, and Jack and Janie followed. I had
two horses and another donkey for companions in the stable. Robert made
me a nice litter of straw to sleep on, and then fetched me a measure of
oats.

“Oh, Robert, give him more than that!” cried Jack, “it’s such a little,
and Emily says he ran in the village race. He must be _so_ tired and
hungry. More, more!”

“But, Master Jack,” said Robert, “if you give him too many oats he will
be too lively, and then neither you nor Miss Janie will be able to ride
him.”

“Oh, he is such a kind donkey, I’m sure he will go quietly for us. Do,
Robert, do _please_ give him some more!”

So Robert gave me another measure of oats, a large pail of water, and
some hay. I made an enormous supper, and then lay down on my straw, and
slept like a king.

The next day I had nothing to do but to take the children for an hour’s
ride. Jack brought me my oats himself, and, paying no heed to what
Robert said, he gave me enough for three donkeys of my size. I ate it
all up, and was delighted at having so many good things.

But on the third day I felt very ill. My head ached. I had indigestion.
I was very feverish. I could eat neither oats nor hay. I couldn’t even
get up, and was still lying stretched on my straw when Jack came to see
me.

“Why, Neddy is still in bed!” cried Jack. “Get up, Neddy, it is
breakfast time. I’ll give you your oats.”

I tried to lift up my head, but it fell heavily back on the straw.

“Oh, he’s ill, Neddy’s ill!” cried Jack, in a great fright. “Robert,
quick, quick! Neddy’s very ill!”

“What’s the matter?” said Robert, coming in at the stable door. “I
filled his manger early this morning. Ah,” he added, looking at the
hay in the manger, which was quite untouched, “there must be something
wrong.”

He felt my ears; they were very hot, and my sides were throbbing. He
looked serious.

“Oh, what is it? what is it?” cried poor Jack, almost in tears.

“He’s got the fever, Master Jack, from overeating. I told you how it
would be if you _would_ give him all those oats. And now we shall have
to send for the vet.”

“What’s the vet?” said Jack, looking still more scared.

“The veterinary surgeon, the animals’ doctor,” replied Robert. “You
see, Master Jack, I told you not to do it. This poor donkey has lived
very poorly all the winter, as any one can see from his thinness and
the state of his coat. Then he got very hot in the donkey-race. He
ought to have had cool grass to eat and a _very_ few oats, but you gave
him as much as he could eat.”

“Oh, poor Neddy, _poor_ Neddy! He’ll die, and it’s all my fault!” and
poor little Jack burst out crying.

“Come, Master Jack, he won’t die this time; but we shall have to bleed
him and then turn him out to grass.”

Robert sent for the veterinary surgeon, and told Jack to go away.
Then he took a lancet, and made a little hole with it in a vein in my
neck. It bled, and I began to feel better. My head wasn’t so heavy,
and I fetched my breath more easily; I was able to get up. Robert then
stopped the bleeding, and in about an hour took me out, and left me in
a fresh cool meadow.

[Illustration: “JACK AND JANIE TOOK THE GREATEST CARE OF ME.”]

I was better, but not yet well, and it was a whole week before I could
do anything except rest in the meadow and crop the grass. Jack and
Janie took the greatest care of me; they came to see me several times
a day. They picked grass for me, so that I shouldn’t have to stoop my
head down to get it for myself. They brought me cool juicy lettuce
from the kitchen garden, and cabbage-leaves, and carrots; and every
evening they came to see me home to my stable, and there filled my
manger for my supper with what I liked best of all, potato-peel and
salt. Jack wanted to give me his pillow one night, because he thought
that my head was too low when I was asleep; and Janie wanted to fetch
the counterpane off her bed to cover me up with, and keep me warm.
Another day they came and put bits of cotton-wool round my feet, for
fear they should get cold. I was quite unhappy at not knowing how to
show them my gratitude for such great kindness; but, unfortunately,
though I could understand all they said I was unable to say anything
myself.

At last I was well again, and with Janie and Jack and some cousins of
theirs who also came to stay with their grandmamma, I passed a very
happy summer.

[Illustration]

[Illustration]




CHAPTER VII.


When the summer was nearly over, several of the children’s fathers and
mothers came to stay at my mistress’s house, and the next day it was
arranged that the gentlemen were to go out partridge shooting. Two of
the bigger boys, who were thirteen or fourteen, and whose names were
Teddy and Dick, were to be allowed to go shooting with their fathers
for the first time, and a gentleman of the neighborhood, with his son
Norman, who was nearly fifteen, was also to join the party.

The next morning Teddy and Dick were up before anybody else, and
marched proudly about with their guns in their hands, and their
game-bags slung across their shoulders, talking of all the game they
were going to bring home.

“I say, Teddy,” said Dick, “when our game-bags are quite full, where
_shall_ we put the rest of the game we shall shoot?”

[Illustration: “THE GENTLEMEN AND BOYS FORMED A BROAD LINE ACROSS THE
FIELD.” P. 46.]

“That’s just what _I_ was wondering,” said Teddy. “I know, we’ll put
Neddy’s panniers on, and take him with us.”

I didn’t like this at all, because I knew these young sportsmen would
fire at everything they saw and would be quite as likely to shoot _me_
as they would a partridge. But there was no help for it, and so when
the party assembled at the front door, I was there too, harnessed and
ready.

“Bless me!” said Norman’s father, when, after a mile or two, he joined
us with his son, “what’s that donkey for?”

“That’s to fetch home the young gentlemen’s game, sir,” said the
keeper, touching his hat, with a grin.

The partridges rose in great numbers. I stayed prudently at the rear.
The gentlemen and the boys formed a broad line across the field; shots
resounded all along the line; the dogs pricked up their ears, watched
to see where the game fell, and fetched it in. I kept an eye on those
young boasters; I saw them shoot, and shoot, and shoot again, but they
never hit anything, not even when the three of them aimed at the same
partridge at once, for it only flew all the better. At the end of two
hours the gentlemen’s game-bags were full, and those of the boys still
empty.

“Dear me!” said one of the gentlemen, as they passed me on the way to
a neighboring farmhouse, where they had left their dinner; “are the
panniers still empty? Ah, I suppose you have stuffed _all_ your game
into your game-bags. My dear boys, if you fill them so full, they’ll
burst!” and the gentleman looked at the other sportsmen and laughed.

Dick, Teddy, and Norman got very red, but they said nothing, and
presently they were all seated round a capital basket of provisions
under a tree,—a chicken-pie, ham, hard-boiled eggs, cheese, and cake.
The boys were ravenously hungry, and ate enough to frighten the people
who passed by.

“Well, boys,” said Norman’s father, “so you’ve not been very lucky.
Neddy doesn’t walk as if he were over-burdened with the game you’ve
shot.”

“No,” said Norman; “you see, father, we had no dogs to fetch in the
partridges we shot. _You_ had all the dogs.”

“Oh, you _have_ shot some, have you? Why didn’t you go and fetch them
in yourselves?”

“Well, father, we didn’t see them fall, and so we didn’t know where
they were.”

At this all the gentlemen, and even the keepers, roared with laughter,
and the boys reddened angrily.

“Well, then, boys,” said Teddy’s father, “we will stay here and
rest for an hour, and you shall go with one of the keepers and all
our dogs, and see if you have better luck this time in finding the
partridges you shoot, but can’t see fall.”

“Oh, how jolly! Thanks, father. Come on, Dick; come on, Norman; now we
shall have our bags as full as theirs.”

The gentlemen told the keeper to keep close to the boys, and not let
them do anything rash. They started off with the dogs, and I followed
some way behind, as usual. The partridges rose in numbers, as they did
in the morning; the dogs were on the watch, but they brought in no
game, because there was none to bring.

At last Norman grew impatient at having as yet shot nothing, and seeing
one of the dogs stop and prick up her ears, he thought a partridge must
be just going to rise, and that it would be much easier to shoot it
while it was still on the ground than when it was flying. So he took
aim and fired.

There was a yell of pain, the dog made a leap into the air, and then
rolled over quite dead.

“You stupid fellow!” shouted the keeper, as he ran to the spot, “you’ve
shot our very best dog! Here’s a pretty end of your fine sport!”

Norman stood speechless from fright. Dick and Teddy looked scared out
of their wits. The keeper restrained his anger, and stood looking at
the poor dog without saying another word.

[Illustration: “A SAD PROCESSION.”]

I went up to see who was the unfortunate victim of Norman’s stupid
recklessness. Judge of my horror when I recognized my old friend Jenny!
I had known Jenny as a puppy, when she lived at the dog fancier’s at
the corner of the market to which I used to carry vegetables in bygone
days. Poor old Jenny! she and I had been such friends! To think she
should have come to this! That wretched, conceited boy!

We turned back towards the farm, a sad procession. The keeper put
Jenny’s body into one of my panniers, and walked along by my side; the
boys followed, with hanging heads and downcast looks.

The sportsmen were still sitting under the tree, and were surprised
when they saw us coming. Seeing that something was wrong, and that one
of my panniers was hanging heavily down, they got up and came quickly
towards us. The boys hung back; the keeper went forward.

“What have they shot?” asked one of the gentlemen. “Is it a sheep or a
calf?”

“It’s nothing to laugh at, sir,” replied the keeper; “it’s our very
best dog, Jenny. That young gentleman shot her, thinking she was a
partridge.”

“Jenny! Well! Catch me taking boys out shooting again!”

“Come here, Norman,” said his father. “Just see to what a pass your
conceit has brought you! Say good-by to your friends, sir, and go
straight home at once! You will put your gun in my room, and you will
not lay a finger on it again till you have learned to have a more
modest opinion of yourself!”

“But, father,” said Norman, trying to look as if he did not care,
“everybody knows that all great sportsmen sometimes shoot their dogs by
mistake!”

His father looked at him for a moment, and then, turning to the others
with an air of disgust, he said:—

“Gentlemen, I really must apologize to you for having ventured to
bring with me to-day a boy who has so little sense of decent behavior.
I never imagined he was capable of such silly impertinence.” He then
turned towards his son, and said severely:—

“You have heard my order, sir. Go at once!” Norman hung his head and
departed in confusion.

“You see, boys,” said Teddy’s father, “what comes of conceit, of
thinking you are so much more clever than you really are. This might
have happened to either of you. You were so very sure that nothing was
easier than shooting, and this is the result. It is quite clear that
you are too young to be allowed to go shooting, so you can go back to
your gardens and your childish games, and it will be better for all
concerned.”

Dick and Teddy hung their heads without a word. The party turned sadly
homewards, and, after tea, the boys buried my poor friend in the
garden.

[Illustration]




CHAPTER VIII.


A few days after this there was a fair in the next village, and my
mistress’s grandchildren were to be taken there by their fathers and
mothers. There were fifteen of them altogether, or sixteen including
myself, for little Jack and his cousin Harry rode on my back, and the
rest walked or drove.

When we got to the fair we heard some people talking about a wonderful
performing donkey who was said to be very clever, and who would begin
his tricks in ten minutes at the other end of the meadow where the fair
was being held.

“Oh, father, we _must_ go and see him,” said Teddy. “Please, may we?”

“Certainly, my boy; we ought to see this performing donkey, though, for
my part, I don’t believe he could beat Neddy, there, for intelligence
and sagacity.”

I was much pleased to hear the gentleman’s good opinion of me, and I
headed the little procession to the other end of the field. Jack’s
mother lifted him and Harry off my back and stood them upon a bench,
close to the path that was left open for people to come into the
enclosure, which was surrounded with seats. I stood outside, just
behind my two little friends.

In a few minutes the showman appeared, leading in the donkey that was
supposed to be so clever. He was a poor dismal-looking creature, who
looked as if he wanted a good meal.

“Jack,” said little Harry to his cousin, loud enough for me to hear, “I
don’t think _that_ donkey looks very clever. I’m sure he’s not nearly
so clever as our dear old Neddy.”

I agreed with him, and was very much pleased to hear what Harry said;
so I thought to myself, “I’ll let them all know it before long, or my
name’s not Neddy.” I left the place where I had been standing, and took
my position near the entrance.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” began the showman, “I have the honor to
introduce to you Mr. Muffles, the wonderful performing ass. This ass,
ladies and gentlemen, is not such an ass as he looks. He knows a great
deal, a great deal more than some of you. He is an ass without an
equal. Come, Muffles, show the company what you can do. Make your bow,
and let these ladies and gentlemen see that you have learned manners.”

[Illustration: “MUFFLES TOOK THE BUNCH OF FLOWERS.”]

The donkey went forward two of three steps, and bent his head in a
most melancholy fashion. I was indignant with the showman; I thought
to myself, “It’s quite easy to see that this poor Muffles has been
taught his tricks by means of a rope’s end;” and I made up my mind to
be revenged on that man before the performance was over.

“Now, Muffles, take this nosegay, and give it to the prettiest lady
here.”

Muffles took the bunch of flowers in his teeth, walked sadly all round
the ring, and at last went and dropped the nosegay into the lap of a
very ugly, fat woman. She was close to me, and I could see that she had
a piece of sugar concealed in her hand. “What a fraud!” I thought. “Of
course, she’s the showman’s wife.” I was so disgusted with what looked
like the donkey’s bad taste that, before any one could stop me, I
leaped clear into the ring, seized the nosegay in my teeth, and trotted
round and laid it at the feet of little Janie.

The crowd all clapped vigorously. They wondered who I was. “_So_
intelligent!” they said to each other. Muffles’s master, however, did
not seem pleased. As for Muffles himself, he took no notice whatever. I
began to think he must really be rather a stupid animal, and that isn’t
common with us donkeys.

When the audience was quiet again, the showman said:—

“Now, Muffles, you’ve shown us the prettiest lady here. Now go and
point out the silliest person present,” and so saying he gave him a
big dunce-cap made of colored paper and adorned with rosettes.

Muffles took it in his teeth, and going straight to a heavy-looking fat
boy, with a face exactly like that of a pig, put it on his head. The
fat boy was so like the fat woman that it was quite easy to see he must
be the showman’s son, and of course in the trick.

“Good!” said I to myself, “my time has come!”

Before they could think of stopping me, I had taken the cap off the
boy’s head, and was chasing the showman himself round and round the
ring. The crowd roared with laughter, and clapped till they were tired.
All at once the showman tripped, and went down on one knee; I profited
by this to put the cap firmly on his head, and to ram it down till it
covered his chin.

The showman shouted, and danced about trying to tear the cap off, and I
stood on my hind legs and capered about just as he did until the crowd
nearly died from laughing. “Well done, donkey! Bravo, donkey! It’s you
that’s the real performing donkey!” they shouted.

There was no doing anything more after this. Hundreds of people crowded
into the ring, and were so anxious to caress me that I was afraid they
would tear me to pieces. The people from our own village, who knew me,
were more than proud of me, and before very long all the people in the
place were telling wonderful tales of my intelligence and my adventures.

They said I had once been at a fire, and worked a fire-engine all by
myself; that I had gone up a ladder to the third story, opened my
mistress’s door, awakened her, picked her up, and jumped off the roof
with her in safety to the ground. They said that another time I had,
all alone, slain fifty robbers, strangling them so cleverly one after
the other with my teeth when they were asleep, that not one had time
to wake up and give the alarm to the others; that I had then gone into
the caves where the robbers lived, and had set free a hundred and fifty
prisoners whom the robbers had captured. At another time, they said, I
had beaten in a race all the swiftest horses in the country, and had
run seventy-five miles in five hours without stopping.

The crowd grew thicker and thicker to hear these wonderful tales, until
the crush was so great that some of the people could hardly breathe,
and the police had to come to the rescue. It was with the greatest
difficulty, even with the help of the policemen, that I was able to get
away, and I was obliged to pretend both to bite and to kick in order to
clear a path; but of course I didn’t hurt anybody.

At last I got free from the crowd and into the road. I looked about
for Jack and Harry and the others, but they were nowhere to be seen;
for as soon as the crowding became dangerous, their parents had hurried
them away. Losing no time, I took the road home. Before I had gone a
mile I overtook them, fifteen people packed into the two carriages; and
by tea-time we all reached home safe and sound, everybody delighted
with my remarkable sagacity.

[Illustration: “IN ORDER TO CLEAR A PATH.”]

But after it was all over, I began to think of the unfortunate showman,
and I felt very, very sorry for the unkind trick I had played him.

[Illustration]




CHAPTER IX.


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.