o the casual summer visitor. This vehicle is a regular
Bath chair, into which the donkey is harnessed. Some of them have a tiny
driver's seat, where a small lad sits beating and berating the donkey
for the incumbent, generally a decrepit dowager from London. Other
chairs are minus this absurd coachman's perch, and in this sort I take
my daily drives. I hire the miniature chariot from an old woman who
dwells at the top of Gorse Hill, and who charges one and fourpence the
hour, It is a little more when she fetches the donkey to the door, or
when the weather is wet or the day is very warm, or there is an unusual
breeze blowing, or I wish to go round the hills; but under ordinary
circumstances, which may at any time occur, but which never do, one and
four the hour. It is only a shilling, if you have the boy to drive
you; but, of course, if you drive yourself, you throw the boy out of
employment, and have to pay extra.
It was in this fashion and on these elastic terms that I first met you,
Jane, and this chapter shall be sacred to you! Jane the long-eared, Jane
the iron-jawed, Jane the stubborn, Jane donkeyer than other donkeys,--in
a word, MULIER! It may be that Jane has made her bow to the public
before this. If she has ever come into close relation with man or woman
possessed of the instinct of self-expression, then this is certainly not
her first appearance in print, for no human being could know Jane and
fail to mention her.
Pause, Jane,--this you will do gladly, I am sure, since pausing is
the one accomplishment to which you lend yourself with special
energy,--pause, Jane, while I sing a canticle to your character. Jane
is a tiny--person, I was about to say, for she has so strong an
individuality that I can scarcely think of her as less than human--Jane
is a tiny, solemn creature, looking all docility and decorum, with long
hair of a subdued tan colour, very much worn off in patches, I fear, by
the offending toe of man.
I am a member of the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals,
and I hope that I am as tender-hearted as most women; nevertheless, I
can understand how a man of weak principle and violent temper, or a man
possessed of a desire to get to a particular spot not favoured by Jane,
or by a wish to reach any spot by a certain hour,--I can understand how
such a man, carried away by helpless wrath, might possibly ruffle Jane's
sad-coloured hair with the toe of his boot.
Jane is small, yet mighty.
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