he
thistles. What's the man about now, I wonder?"

The Parson had walked toward a chestnut tree that stood on the village
green--he broke off a bough--returned to the donkey, whisked off the
flies, and then tenderly placed the broad leaves over the sore, as a
protection from the swarms. The donkey turned round its head, and looked
at him with mild wonder.

"I would bet a shilling," said the Parson, softly, "that this is the
first act of kindness thou hast met with this many a day. And slight
enough it is, Heaven knows."

With that the Parson put his hand into his pocket, and drew out an apple.
It was a fine large rose-cheeked apple: one of the last winter's store,
from the celebrated tree in the parsonage garden, and he was taking it as
a present to a little boy in the village who had notably distinguished
himself in the Sunday-school. "Nay, in common justice, Lenny Fairfield
should have the preference," muttered the Parson. The ass pricked up one
of his ears, and advanced its head timidly. "But Lenny Fairfield would be
as much pleased with twopence: and what could twopence do to thee?" The
ass's nose now touched the apple. "Take it in the flame of charity,"
quoth the Parson, "Justice is accustomed to be served last:" And the ass
took the apple. "How had you the heart?" said the Parson, pointing to the
Squire's cane.

The ass stopped munching, and looked askant at the Squire.

"Pooh! eat on; he'll not beat thee now!"

"No," said the Squire apologetically. "But, after all, he is not an ass
of the parish; he is a vagrant, and he ought to be pounded. But the pound
is in as bad a state as the stocks, thanks to your new-fashioned
doctrines."

"New-fashioned!" cried the Parson almost indignantly, for he had a great
disdain of new fashions. "They are as old as Christianity; nay, as old as
Paradise, which you will observe is derived from a Greek, or rather a
Persian word, and means something more than a 'garden,' corresponding
(pursued the Parson rather pedantically) with the Latin _vivarium_--viz.
grove or park full of innocent dumb creatures. Depend on it, donkeys were
allowed to eat thistles there."

"Very possibly," said the Squire drily. "But Hazeldean, though a very
pretty village, is not Paradise. The stocks shall be mended to-morrow
day, and the pound too--and the next donkey found trespassing shall go
into it, as sure as my name is Hazeldean."

"Then," said the Parson gravely, "I can only hope that the next