CHAP. III. A New Master.

Two months of incessant drudgery had completely taught me to bear the restraint of a saddle, when Master Frederick on a sudden declined my services. I thought myself happy in losing his patronage, and was looking forward to a little ease, when Mrs. Fenton inquired if I could not be made serviceable, and proposed harnessing me to a donkey cart: Robert replying in the affirmative, I was accordingly appointed to the honour of drawing my mistress about the grounds. The change was agreeable, and though somewhat above my strength, I acquitted myself to the satisfaction of Mrs. Fenton. But it was in vain I looked for the delicate white bridle, that object of my ambition. “Surely” thought I, “a lady will never bear to handle such common reins, why even the pet, complained that they stained his gloves!” My mistress however, continued to employ and commend me without thinking it necessary to alter my dress. If the humanity of Mrs. Fenton had not interfered, my whimsical young master would gladly have added to my toil in these excursions, by taking a seat by her side.

“No my dear Fred, I cannot allow you to ride with me, it would be too much for the poor Donkey;” would she say, “ask Robert to teach you to drive, and you shall take an airing before breakfast.”

Alas! this was putting new arms into the hands of an enemy. Robert undertook the office with a sullenness for which I could not then account, but during the process I gained an insight into the character of my master, which in a degree justified the repugnance of the groom.

In proportion as the feeble mind of this boy rendered him contemptible to those about him, his arrogance increased; every failure to which his pusillanimity exposed him, was revenged on those persons he considered his inferiors. Of course the animal who could not express himself orally, received his portion of ill usage. If Robert was called “fool, rascal, &c. &c.” my sides felt the effects of master Frederick’s temper; fortunately the strength of this young tyrant was not that of a Hercules, or my situation had been miserable indeed. About this period a most agreeable change took place in our family, a young lady and gentlemen relatives of Mrs. Fenton made us a visit. Charles Fairfax was in his twelfth year, his sister Marianne a year younger; their open good humoured countenances and lively spirits formed a striking contrast to the peevish features of my master, but I was not so credulous as to decide on their characters from an index of this nature. No! it was their subsequent conduct which then claimed my gratitude, and enables me at this moment to speak of them with pleasure.

Nothing could exceed their astonishment when Master Frederick one morning thought fit to scold the groom, because he had locked the stable door, and he could not get my saddle exactly when he wanted it.

“You great fool you, you are always doing wrong,” said he, “get me the saddle directly; here my cousins have been waiting this hour. I know papa would be very angry if he knew you took the horses such a long airing, and I’ll tell him when we go to breakfast.”

“I am not your servant, Sir,” replied Robert, “nor I dont know who would have any thing to do with you that knew you.”

“Hold your tongue, and do as you are bid,” resumed the little tyrant.

“Pray Sir do you wish to ride the Donkey this morning?” said Robert, bowing to Master Fairfax.

“Not particularly,” replied Charles.

“Then Sir, if it is no disappointment to you, I will not give Master Fredy the saddle till I have seen my master, he would not suffer his servants to be treated as they are, if he knew it, but I will tell him my mind, if I lose my place.”

“To be sure you think yourself of great consequence Mr. Bob, but I know something, and I’m determined I’ll tell, so you had better give me the saddle.”

“You get no saddle from me Sir,” retorted Robert, “but I think, when I tell all I know, somebody will sing to another tune.”

Marianne Fairfax had very properly retreated from this altercation, calling her brother to look at a brood of chickens. I gladly pursued their steps, delighted to be near children whose appearance impressed me in their favour.

“I declare Marianne I never heard any this like Frederick,” said Charles, “I hope he will not expect me to take his part, the groom has treated him as he deserves.”

“O he was always a pet,” replied Marianne, “but pray look at these pretty creatures, did you ever see such a fine brood?”

Charles was admiring the chicks, when Frederick siezing my tail caused me to start, and in avoiding him I accidentally kicked one of the little flutterers. Marianne ran to the spot, and taking up the chick, examined it tenderly; I listened with much anxiety, and was delighted to hear her say, its limbs were not broken. My tranquillity was of short date, a heavy stroke on my back nearly knocked me down.

“What are you about Frederick?” said Charles, wresting a spade from the hands of my master.

“Why he deserves a good drubbing,” retorted Frederick, “he might have killed the chicken.”

“And you might have killed the Donkey, had the blow fallen on his head.”

“Well it is my own if I had Sir, and that spade is mine,” said he, endeavouring to regain the murderous weapon,—“and this field is mine, it is very odd I mayn’t do as I please in my own house.”

“I dont call any of these things yours,” said Charles, “and if they were, you would have no right to act as you were doing.”

“O to be sure you are very good,” sneered my master, “but I say the Donkey ought to be thrashed, and he shall too.”

“Not while I am here to prevent it,” continued Charles restraining the arm of Frederick; “but if you pull my hair Frederick, I shall be forced to give you a thrashing, so I warn you in time.”

Marianne interposed, and begged her brother would leave him to himself, and take a walk with her in the shrubbery. Charles marched off with the spade on his shoulder: this act in itself one of humane courage, roused the anger of my vindictive tyrant, who waiting till my friends were out of sight, attacked me again. As I have before observed, his powers did not keep pace with his intentions; I was more worried than injured by his malice, but thinking a little braying could do no harm and might bring my champion to my aid, I uttered two or three sonorous notes, and as I expected so it happened. In an instant Charles Fairfax leaped over a gate, and approaching Frederick exclaimed,

“Touch the Donkey again, and I will either give you a drubbing, or carry you to your father.”

“Do if you dare, I should like to see you carry me indeed! I dare say you think yourself a fine fellow because you have been two years at a public school, but who cares for you? not I, I assure you.”

“It would be difficult to say what you do care for except indulging your own humours,” replied Charles. “Believe me Fred, I will not interfere with these so long as they are confined to yourself, but I should be ashamed to stand by and see you ill use a dumb animal, merely because the groom has offended you.”

“That’s right,” retorted Frederick, “I’ll get Mr. Bob a good rowing;” and running off, he left my champion smiling at the vaunting cowardice of my silly master.

Though I do not profess to be a scientific Ass—nor in the least addicted to philosophical inquiry, there are certain estimates that a merely observing animal will make, and by chance stumble on probabilities. Thus I, a beast of burden declare, that our fatigue is increased or ameliorated by the temper of those we carry (of course this remark applies only to our services à la cheval); I persuade myself this is not a Donkey chimera, but a truth that would be generally acknowledged were we in the habit of submitting our opinions to the public. There is something elastic in good humour, it gives a buoyancy to the frame similar to what it imparts to the countenance; while sullenness, passion, or any other deformity of the mind, by its uncertainties diminishes the zeal of the employed, and makes that a task which might be made a pleasure. Charles Fairfax was more robust in appearance than my master, yet, when he did me the honour of mounting my back I was all agility, anxious to display my best paces and this without a touch from the whip.

But to return to the fracas I witnessed: I was beginning to regret that the habits of a Donkey precluded him from knowing what occurs within doors, and that in consequence I should not hear how the cousins adjusted their difference, when Mrs. Bond entered the field with some provender for your humble servant, and was instantly joined by Robert.

“I thought you’d get your warning,” said Mrs. Bond, addressing the groom, “but I find Master Fairfax has done some good for us all I hope.”

“Good! why he’s the finest fellow I ever saw: yes, little sniveller tried his worst, but master actually coloured for shame when young Fairfax spoke up; would you believe it, the spiteful monkey asked his father if he allowed the Donkey to be fed with oats? You know master is a little particular about stable expenses. I never gave the Donkey one oat since he came from the farmer’s,” said I, ‘but you gave me some for him which was just as bad,’ said young mischief; “so then I up and told, that master Frederick was always in the stables taking the oats, that I was afraid he would get a kick some day or other, and that for peace and quietness’ sake I gave him a few oats one morning and never but once. I wish you’d seen young Fairfax when I said this, you never saw such a scornful look as he gave our young one.”

“And what did mistress say?” asked Mrs. Bond. “Why she said I ought to leave the saddle where Master Fenton could find it, as it was a great disappointment to the child, when he got up easily on purpose to ride his Donkey and was prevented by my carelessness. I said he could not put the saddle on if I left it out, and if it was not well braced he might get a fall. My master said I was right, and seemed satisfied enough, but the pet thought he’d get me into a scrape yet, so he begins again with ‘Ah! Mr. Bob, with all your impudence you can’t deny that you was out two hours this morning though Papa said an hour was enough.’ Now there was no standing this from a child, so I told master that I’d borne a great deal of bad language from his son, and that I had resolved to tell him of his swearing, but if I was to be called to account by a baby I would leave my place.

“‘Let him go Papa, send him away to-day,’ said Frederick. ‘No! said master, I’m afraid you have been a very bad boy Fred.’ Mistress looked vexed and asked where I had taken the horses that morning. I told her to the farmer’s by my master’s orders. ‘Very true Robert, I had forgot that I told you to do so’ said master. ‘Well then’ said my mistress ‘only take care and leave the Donkey ready every morning by eight o’clock Robert.’ ‘Will that make you happy my love?’ said she hugging the young rascal. ‘I dont know,’ sobbed little squeaky. Master Fairfax, burst out a laughing, ‘well done Fred, that’s honest’ says he, ‘for I dont think the Donkey is a greater favourite with you than Robert.’

“‘O yes he’s very fond of his Donkey Charles,’ said mistress, ‘and will soon ride like a little man.’

“‘I hope Fred will never think of making me one of his favorites then,’ replies young Fairfax, ‘for I should be sorry to receive such proofs of his regard as he bestows on his Donkey.’

“‘I should like to know what business you have with me or my Donkey Sir?’ said Frederick, ‘I tell you it is my own and I will beat him and kick him whenever I please.’

“Master grew quite angry at this, called Frederick a ‘little savage,’ and declared he would send the Donkey to the farmer’s, for he had been worried to death by the frights and whims of his son ever since they came to the Hall.

“‘It is such an ugly vicious beast,’ said Fredy. ‘Robert said it was, he knows he did the very first night we came here.’

“So then I said, the Donkey was a very fine one, and though I had warned him not to ride him but when I was by, it was because I knew the beast wanted training like all other animals, but it was not by ill using him as Master Fredy did, that the Donkey would ever be made a good carrying one.

“‘You have said enough Robert,’ said master. ‘Farmer Howel shall have the Donkey again; no child of mine shall use any animal ill. I am afraid we have helped to spoil you Frederick, but I hope it is not too late to save you from becoming wicked.’

“I left the room, but Thomas says, young Fairfax offered Frederick his hand, and declared he would not have said a word about what passed in the field, if he had not thought his cousin unjust to me. It seems the little pet defended himself, but the other was too clever for him, and master was so pleased with what his nephew said, specially about trying to get me into disgrace for the very thing I had done to please him, that he wished over and over again he had such a boy.”

It will readily be believed I was deeply interested in this discussion, it was not so much the important figure I made in the narration, as the conviction that intellectual animals occasionally condescend to think of us and of our sufferings: and with that spirit of good fellowship which leads us to forget injuries, I augured favourably of the future conduct of my master. This was my first thought, the succeeding one told me I must no longer call Frederick Fenton my master. And as I had heard that Mr. Fenton was very decisive, when he made a resolution, new hopes stole into my bosom, that I should return to the farmer’s and again see my parents. Next morning undeceived me in this particular. Doctor Manton, a physician, calling to see Mrs. Fenton, expressed a wish to see Master and Miss Fairfax; they were in the garden, and my mistress in accompanying the doctor in search of them came in contact with me.

“Where did you get that fine Donkey,” said Mr. Manton, “I am looking out for one, can you recommend me to any person who would serve me well.”

“You shall have that” said my mistress “we want to get rid of him.”

The doctor made a few inquiries, and I heard myself formally consigned to Mr. Manton. Something like a sigh escaped my bosom, it was grievous to perceive how lightly I was estimated where I had never voluntarily offended; while the recollection of Mrs. Bond’s many kindnesses in the cabbage-leaf department, sensibly depressed my feelings. “I am again launched on the world,” thought I, “and perhaps at a greater distance from my parents, new ills may await me: custom has, in a degree, reconciled me to my present lot; shall I have fortitude to bear a change which may only prove a change in suffering?” The white bridle flitted across my mind—“ah!” thinks I, “this may be the moment in which my hopes are to be realized.”

Pardon me, my gentle readers, nor deem a Donkey a more egregious Ass, that an object so inconsequential in your eyes should to him appear so attractive.

What is ambition, but an ardent desire to possess that which we believe would increase our happiness? Men seek fame and hoard gold without considering the instability of either of these possessions: yet I never heard that the disappointments of the few, diminished the ambition of the many.

Thus, whether it be a white leather bridle or the treasures of Golconda, time only can elucidate our mistake; and, by unveiling the passing hour, teach us to value those which have fled for ever.