Chapter VI

A REAL GRIEVANCE—RICHARD AND I DECLARE WAR AGAINST EACH OTHER—A
STRUGGLE—I GAIN A VICTORY, AND AM CONQUERED IN MY TURN—I CHANGE
MASTERS, AND ENTER A NEW PHASE OF EXISTENCE.

There is no lot in life so perfectly happy in which one cannot find some cause of complaint; indeed it is too often the case that the fewer grievances people have, the more you hear them grumble. Now, I have no doubt I had a great many imaginary, but I had one real, unmistakable source of unhappiness. One of the servants at the house was a boy whom my master had originally taken out of charity. He was a quick, clever lad, but of a spiteful disposition, and this he was clever enough to keep out of his master’s sight. He delighted in teasing and cruelty, and nothing seemed to make him happier than to be able to make others miserable. Against myself he had an especial spite, and endless were the tricks with which he contrived to annoy me. Sometimes, just when I was going to be harnessed to the carriage, he would place a piece of holly, or something equally prickly, just under my tail, and when, of course, I tried to kick the inconvenience away, he would declare it was all vice on my part; so I got the whipping he so richly deserved. Then, again, sometimes when I came home from a journey, ready to drop with thirst, the ill-natured little fellow would hold the pail to my lips as handy as possible, and then at the very moment when, eager to drink, I was putting down my mouth for a draught, he would suddenly tilt up the pail, making the contents fly into my eyes and ears, or else spilling the water on the stones around.

These, and a hundred similar injuries needless to detail, and better to forget, made me hate the very sight of Richard; and so little pains did I take to conceal my feelings that my mistress soon discovered there was something wrong between us.

“I cannot think what it is, papa,” I one day overheard her say, “that makes Neddy so dislike Richard. I am quite sure he must ill treat him.”

What would not I have given at that moment to have had the power of telling my grievances to my kind mistress? But that could not be. I could only sigh, wag my ears very slowly, and trust to my mistress’s acuteness to find out how matters stood for herself. One word then, and what months of misery I might have been spared!

If Richard could play off his spiteful tricks almost under the eyes, so to speak, of my mistress, one may imagine the life he led me when the family were away from home. Then I was almost entirely at his mercy, and he took care to improve his opportunities to the utmost. As a general rule, when my mistress was away, I was not allowed to do any work whatever; but it occasionally happened that a letter had to be sent in a hurry to the mail, or some commission executed in the neighbouring town, and then, instead of walking, Richard would be allowed to ride me. Ah, those rides! how I dreaded them! What kicks! what blows! what language! In those days I had never heard such words before, and could hardly understand their meaning. Is it astonishing that I rebelled against such treatment, and did my very utmost to get rid of my tormentor?

I must confess, however, that, as a general rule, my efforts were not crowned with the success they deserved. On one occasion, however, I was the victor; but my victory cost me dear.

Richard had ridden me into the town for something that was wanted at the house, and all the way along it had been a struggle between us; I obstinately determined not to go, he as obstinately bent on making me. At length, by dint of kicks and blows, the misery of which became too great to be endured, he succeeded in goading me as far as the market-place of the town.

It happened to be market-day, and the square was quite full of country people who had come in to buy and sell. Whether it was the desire of showing off, or whether Richard’s temper had become more than usually irritated by my determined opposition to his will, I do not know; but here, in the presence of all these people, he began to beat me violently about the head, at the same time urging me into a gallop. Half-blinded and stupefied by the blows, my only reply was to stand perfectly still. Richard beat me more savagely than before. Cries of “Shame! shame!” resounded from all sides.

“I will tell your master,” said one. “You will lose your place,” said another; while a third cried out, “I wish the beast would kick him off. It would serve him right to have a roll in the mud, that it would.”

I only needed this one word of encouragement to put the plan which I had formed into execution. Planting my two front feet firmly on the ground, I kicked, and kicked, and kicked with such a thorough, hearty good-will that at length my adversary, losing his balance, flew over my head, and rolled around and around upon the mud beneath me. Shouts of laughter resounded from all sides. Not waiting to see what would become of Richard, I instantly turned toward home, and galloped up the street as fast as my legs would carry me, the people not attempting to stop me, but rather urging me on to greater speed by cries of “Bravo! Well done, Neddy! Go on, Neddy!”

Excited by these shouts, and by the triumph I had just achieved, I redoubled my speed, my heart beating with joyful pride at my late victory. Alas! how little I knew the price I was to pay for it! If I had had the sense to go straight home, all would have been well; but when one has once tasted of the pleasures of conquest, and listened to the flattery of praise, one’s judgment is apt to be less clear; and no sooner had I reached such a distance from the town as to render me comparatively safe than I slackened my speed, and began, with great self-complacency, to think over the events of the morning, refreshing myself by constant nibbles at the grass by the wayside. I was indulging in this luxurious confidence when I suddenly felt my rein seized by a vigorous hand, and, looking up, I found myself confronted by a powerful, middle-aged man.

“So you are the runaway donkey, are you?” he said. “I was just on the lookout for you;” and I saw that he glanced hastily up and down the road, but not another creature was in sight.

“So! all is right,” he said. “Come along, Neddy, come along;” and he hastily turned me off the highroad on to a path which led into a wood hard by.

It was all done so quickly that I had not a moment to recover my self-possession, and I was already far on in the path before I had time to consider who the man was, and what he could possibly mean by taking me into this road, which I had never seen before. My first sensation was one of delight, to think how completely I had outwitted Richard; but this was quickly followed by the dread, “What if I had been outwitted myself?” and I began to reproach myself bitterly with my folly in not having resisted in the first instance, and refused to allow myself to be led from the highroad.

“But better late than never,” thought I; and, giving a vigorous pull at the rein, I tried to get away from the man, determining to regain the road, and never to stop again till I had safely reached home. Alas! I now discovered how far easier it is to take a step in the wrong direction than to retrace it when made.

The man in an instant seemed to discern my intention; and, holding the rein tighter than he had done before, he gave me three or four tremendous blows with a stick which he had in his hand, exclaiming at the same time:

“So you think to get away from me as you did from that boy, do you? You will find yourself mistaken. I will soon make you know who is master now;” and he repeated the blows with greater violence than before.

The savage tone in which he spoke, and the pain I felt from the blows which I had received, seemed to stun me, and take away all power of resistance; and, in spite of myself, I walked on by his side, trembling in every limb, and holding my tail tight between my legs, in the vain hope that this would protect me from his cruel blows. I have often thought since that I acted like a coward, and that, if I had plucked up my spirit, I might have regained my liberty. But, after all, I do not know. In a struggle between men and beasts, I suppose if a man chooses to exert his strength, he can always get the mastery. We do not think of this as long as we are in happy homes, and all goes prosperously; we forget that we are servants, and that our master has a right to expect obedience in return for the food he gives us and the care which he bestows upon us. We are apt to grow proud, and to think that our service is entirely optional, and that if we do our duty well, it is a great merit on our part, and calls for gratitude on the part of our master; and then it is not till we feel his strong hand upon us, conquering our wills, and doing with us according to his pleasure, that we begin to understand that we are only servants of a higher power than our own, and that we should have been wiser to have submitted patiently, and to have done our duty cheerfully, than to have struggled against an authority which, after all, we are powerless to resist. I can think these thoughts now that I am quietly at rest in my old age, but my feelings were very different on the day of my capture.

My new master, having led me through the wood, jumped upon my back, and, by a repetition of the cruel blows I so much dreaded, urged me to gallop on across an open common on which we had now entered. Frightened as I was, I had sense enough to know that it would be better for me to obey; but I did so with a heavy heart, knowing well that every step was taking me farther and farther away from the home which I had never loved so well as now that I had lost it. Still, I made what speed I could; and, having crossed the common, my master turned me up a narrow lane, urging me on even faster than before, till at length he turned off on to a waste piece of land, the most dreary-looking place I had ever seen in my life,—pools of water here and there, and the ground with scarcely a blade of grass, and nothing but a few stunted bushes scattered about. Here he pulled me up; and, getting off my back, he led me on a little distance; then, standing still, he whistled very loudly and sharply. In a few minutes the call was answered by a man younger and not so powerful-looking as himself.

“Where is the tent, Bill?” was his first question.

“A little way down to the left yonder.”

“Then we must look alive and push on for it, and dress up this donkey here before the search is out for him.”

“Why, where did you pick him up, Jem?” asked his companion, as he proceeded to examine me. “You have been in rare luck to-day. I never saw a more likely beast. He has been in good quarters, too, I should say, from the look of his skin.”

“That he has,” returned my master. “He is one of Squire Morton’s raising; so you may be sure he is the right sort. I have had my eye on him for some time past; but they kept him so close I could not get a chance before. However, we have not a moment to lose. He is a pet of the family, so there is sure to be a hue and cry. Run on and get the shears and some good strong pitch ready.”

My heart sank within me. I did not indeed understand the full meaning of the words, but I felt sure from the man’s manner that mischief was intended, and again I did my best to escape and make my way home; but it would not do. I was led on, in spite of myself, to the tent, and then the cruel work began. Snip—snip—snip! I heard, whilst a hard, cold, heavy substance ran all over my body; and then came something hot and burning, which made me kick and jump with pain. But it was in vain to struggle. My tormentors had me in their power, and not till they had satisfied themselves did they at length release me from their grasp.

“There, Bill,” said my master, when at length he had finished; “I think we have done it pretty well. I do not believe even his own mother would know him now. However, we won’t risk it; let us strike tents and be off. Here, give me the log, that heaviest one, and we will put that on his leg. He will not run far with that, I promise him.”

And in another moment I felt a tight, cutting pressure around my ankle; and, giving me a cut, my master told me to be off and eat my dinner, for I should soon be wanted for work. Eat my dinner! My only thought was to get away home; and, once escaped from his hands, I was for galloping off without a moment’s loss of time. Gallop? I could hardly walk. No sooner did I attempt to move than I heard a loud clanking noise, and felt a drag, as if my leg was broken. Looking back in terror and amazement, I perceived that an immense piece of wood was fastened to my leg by a great iron chain. I tried to shake it off, but my efforts only made the chain cut me more painfully, whilst I bruised my legs by knocking them against the log. Broken-hearted and in despair, I stood perfectly still, bewildered and not knowing what to do next. At length an irresistible desire seized me to see what my tormentors had done to me. I recollected how proudly I had often surveyed myself in the stream at home, and how I had admired my shiny brown coat and the long hairs in my mane. Slowly, very slowly, I dragged myself to the edge of one of the pools. The water was very muddy, and did not perhaps reflect all my hideousness; but I saw enough to make me start back in horror from myself. My mother not know me? why, I did not know myself! My beautiful coat all clipped, and rough, and ragged, and covered with great patches of black and dirt; and my mane,—that mane my dear mistress had so often praised,—oh, what would she have said to it now? I drew back from the sight of myself, and groaned inwardly. “Ah!” thought I, “and has so short a time been sufficient for so great a change? Is this the beauty of which I was so fond? Fool that I was to set such store upon the very thing which has brought me to all this misery, and which is gone in an hour!” and, laying down my long ears, my heart felt well-nigh broken.

In the midst of all my sorrows I suddenly roused up to the feeling of being very hungry. I had had nothing since the morning, and was quite faint and exhausted with my long gallop and all the agitation and excitement of the day. Looking around me, therefore, I tried to find something that I should like to eat, but there was nothing, actually nothing; for it was not to be supposed that a donkey, bred up as I had been, would condescend to make a meal of rank, sedgy grass, or a few bits of dried-up furze. Sorrow had not yet done its work. My proud spirit was chafed and angry—not broken; and I had still to learn that the meal I now despised might one day be eaten with gratitude.

I was standing in the sullen gloom of despair when my new master came up to me. “So, Neddy,” he said, “you do not seem to be enjoying your meal. You will know better, my fine fellow, some day than to be particular about trifles. You will not be dainty long, I promise you. It will do you no harm for once to work upon an empty stomach. It will take down your spirit quicker than anything.”

And, unclasping the log as he spoke, he swung it over my back, and led me up to the tent, where he proceeded to load me with every imaginable article. I might be frightened, as tin jingled against tin by every movement of my body; I might try to resist so heavy a load being placed upon my back; but it was all of no good; the weight was fixed upon my shoulders, and then I was driven off with blows as before.

We seemed to be a large party,—one of my own family, but so old and ugly and wretched-looking that I turned from her in disgust, quite forgetting my own forlorn look, and all the wise reflections I had so lately made. This poor donkey carried some children and a number of things of which I did not know the use; and a sort of van, drawn by an old horse, conveyed the tent and all that the party might want beside. How long or where we travelled, I cannot say. I only know that I was faint and tired and weary, when at length we came to a halt in a wooded dell a little way from the roadside. It looked pretty enough in the bright moonlight, but I was too wayworn to think of that; and when my load was removed from my back, I lay down from sheer fatigue, and, shutting my eyes, tried to forget all my sorrows in sleep.

Only this morning, and what a happy donkey I had been! I do not know well how to measure time; but it seemed to me as long since I had left my home as one of those dreary periods when my mistress was away from it. I thought of all my mother used to say to me about the changes of life, and how thankful I ought to be for the happy lot that had been given to me, and how grateful and desirous to value my blessings to the full; and now, when I had lost them all, I for the first time felt their value, and knew how lightly I had prized them.

All, did I say? While I was thinking thus despondingly of my misfortunes, I heard a kind voice say to me: “Come, poor Neddy, here is something for you to eat,” and, looking up, I saw a little child holding toward me a large handful of hay. “Come, poor Neddy! good Neddy!” added the child, as she patted me kindly. Then, after all, I was not so utterly forsaken. Even in my utmost distress there was still something left to comfort me; and, as I gratefully munched the hay, I felt the first moment of happiness I had experienced since my misfortune. How often have I found since that there is no trial which may not be made more or less hard to bear by our own conduct under it,—few states so bad but that if we choose we can make them worse! Keep up a good heart, and be grateful for every little comfort as it comes. That is my advice. I only wish I could speak out, and let my masters know how much lies in their power to make us, their poor servants, happy. If they knew how grateful we feel for kindness, and how much readier we are to go for a kind word than a hard blow, perhaps they would learn to treat us better, if only for their own sake.

Anyway, I felt happier as I lay down that night to rest; and it was a child’s act and a child’s words which had made me so.

CHAPTER VII.

NEDDY TRAVELS