Chapter IV

I LEARN TO DRAW MY MISTRESS’S CARRIAGE—I SEE THE WORLD, AND LISTEN TO
EVIL COUNSEL—A TRICK, AND WHAT CAME OF IT—AFTER ALL, HONESTY IS THE
BEST POLICY.

It would be tedious to trace the progress of my education. Suffice it to say that at last I was pronounced to be so well broken in that it was thought safe to trust me to draw my young mistress in a pretty little carriage that had been made expressly for me. At first I did not like my new occupation at all. It was very provoking to be led out of my pleasant field, when perhaps I had not half finished my morning’s meal, or was deep in conversation with some of my neighbours in the adjoining meadow, or was luxuriously rolling on the soft grass. To be taken away from these enjoyments to drag a carriage over hot, stony roads, and to stand stock-still doing nothing for the hour together, while my mistress was paying her visits,—all this seemed to me very dull and tedious; but gradually I became more reconciled to my lot.

If it had its disadvantages, it had its pleasures likewise. I saw something of the world; I had the opportunity of conversing with many of my own species, and of seeing how much happier my life was than that of many others; and though, I confess, to my shame, I was apt to forget this, and to give way to my temper, and show obstinacy when things did not go quite as I liked, grumbling and thinking myself a very ill-used being, I believe that, on the whole, I learned wisdom by experience, and gave my dear mistress as little trouble as could be expected.

Occasionally, indeed, I sorely tried her patience. One instance I well remember. It had chanced that I had been required to take my mistress to a house which I had a particular objection to visiting. It was not only that the road that led to it was hilly and stony, but it was a place where I never received the slightest civility. No hay or water was ever offered me, no shed where I might stand at my ease out of the hot, broiling sunshine; but I was hitched up tight to a post, and expected to stand there for an hour at a time, while a yelping cur would bark at my heels, and the village children, peeping at me from over the fence, would make fun of my helpless condition. All this was very hurtful to my vanity; and, having in vain tried to show my mistress, by my obstinate manner, that I did not approve of being taken to Barstead, I determined one day, when, as usual, I was hitched up to the post, to relieve myself from the hated bondage, hoping, by constant pulling, to be able to break the reins and run away home, leaving my mistress to follow as best she might.

But it was in vain for me to pull and tug; the reins were stronger than I. I was only fretting myself into a fever, and making myself more and more uncomfortable. Thoroughly out of humour, I was venting my anger in a series of impatient snorts, when suddenly I heard a short, sneering neigh close to my side; and, looking up, I saw a little rough pony standing quite close to me, evidently enjoying my distress.

“Why, my good friend,” said he, “what is the matter? You seem very unhappy. Can I be of any assistance?”

The patronizing tone in which he spoke completely disconcerted me, for I do not know anything more provoking than to expose your own helplessness and incapacity to any one superior to yourself in intellect and station; so, putting on a dogged air of composure, I declined his kind offer of assistance, telling him I was only trying to shift my bridle a bit, and that I had done it now for myself.

The mocking neigh which was his only answer showed me in a moment that my falsehood was discovered, and that I had only lowered myself still further in the opinion of my new acquaintance.

“My good fellow,” he said, “you do not suppose I have worn a bridle all these years to learn that you are not going the right way to ease the bit. Better tell me the truth. I am older than you, and, if I am not much mistaken, I have seen a good deal more of life than you have. Come, what is the matter? Out with it, and I will help you if I can.”

There was something in his cheery, good-natured manner that conquered my pride, and, in spite of myself, I soon found that I was talking to him as if he had been an old friend, and telling him my grievances as openly as if he had been my brother.

“And now,” said I in conclusion, “what would you advise me to do?”

“To do?” he said; “why, the next time your mistress brings you to Barstead, lame yourself.”

“Lame myself?” exclaimed I; “why, the remedy would be worse than the disease.”

“You little innocent!” said my friend, with his sneering laugh; “you made no scruple in telling a lie just now; why should you find it more difficult to act one?”

Involuntarily my ears wagged with horror as I caught a glimpse of his meaning. I had been tempted into a hasty falsehood in support of my dignity. That was bad enough; but deliberately to enact a lie to deceive my kind mistress appeared to me the height of ingratitude and baseness. Alas! I did not remember how easily one fault leads to another.

“You asked my advice, and I have given it to you,” said the pony. “If you are afraid to follow it out, why, you must submit to be tied to a post for the remainder of your life, and that is the proper place for cowards. It is only those who have the pluck to dare and to do who make their way in this world.”

“I am not afraid,” said I, rather faintly. “It is not that.”

“Well, then, what is it?”

Coward that I was! I did not dare to tell him that I feared to do wrong, and vex my kind mistress; so I only grumbled out something about the difficulty of deceiving her.

“That is, of course, a point you must decide for yourself,” replied the pony; “only you must be a great bungler if you cannot manage to deceive a woman. In our relations with mankind, either they or we must be the masters, and the strongest will generally carries the day. If force will not do, try craft; but if you are beaten at both points, why, then, good-bye to your independence for all time, and make up your mind at once to sink into a mere despised beast of burden for the rest of your life.”

What further valuable advice my new acquaintance might have given me, it is impossible for me to say; for at this moment, my mistress coming out of the house, the servant came and untied my reins, and I was led away from my place of captivity, having only time to cast a farewell glance at my friend, and to catch the wicked twinkle of the bright eyes which glanced from under his shaggy eyebrows.

All the way home I thought over his words; indeed, so lost was I at times in the reflection that I was unpleasantly aroused by the sharp cut of the whip across my shoulders, and the sound of my mistress’s voice reproving me very severely.

“Ah, Neddy!” she said, as, having at length reached home, she got out of the carriage and came and stood by my side, without giving me so much as one pat; “you have gone very badly indeed to-day, and you will not have a single carrot, nor a bit of bread, nor a taste of sugar,—no, not one bit. Go away, Neddy,—naughty Neddy!”

So that was my first experience of the fruits of evil counsel. But, alas! my heart was hardened by the words of the tempter; and instead of repenting of my fault, my mistress’s displeasure only made me more obstinate, and more inclined to try and have my own way, and to persuade myself that it was she who was unkind and unjust, and that if she required me to do that which was disagreeable to me, why, of course, I, on my part, was quite justified in avoiding it if possible.

The more I brooded over my imaginary wrongs, the more ill-used I considered myself to be, and the more was I inclined to follow the advice of my tempter. As is always the case, by constantly dwelling on the fault which I longed to commit, it gradually appeared to me to become less and less sinful. I found such endless excuses to justify my conduct to my own mind that at length I ceased to feel any compunction whatever on the subject, and only awaited a favourable opportunity for putting my intended deception into practice.

It was not long in offering itself. One beautiful bright morning, about ten days after my last visit to Barstead, I was, as usual, drawing my mistress’s carriage, when she turned me up the lane which led, I knew, to the hateful place. “Ah! ah!” thought I, “I know where you are going to now, and we’ll see who carries out their purpose, you or I.” So I cunningly watched my opportunity, and began to tread a little—just a very little—lame, stumbling occasionally as I trotted along.

“What can be the matter with Neddy?” I heard my mistress say to her companion. “Do you not think, Emily, he goes lame?”

“Ah!” thought I; “you see it, do you?” and I went lamer than before.

“Yes, certainly,” replied Emily; “he is quite lame.”

“Perhaps he has a stone in his shoe,” said my mistress. “Hold the reins, Emily, for a moment, if you please. I will get out and look.”

“Dear me!” thought I; “now she will discover the cheat;” and I trembled all over.

“Poor Neddy! poor Neddy!” said my mistress, patting me. “He trembles so, he must be hurt.”

Would you believe it? Her kindness, instead of softening my heart, and making me see my fault, only hardened me the more. I began to despise her for being such an easy dupe. This feeling gave me the courage to stand quite still, whilst my mistress lifted up first one foot and then another.

“There is no stone in any one of his feet,” exclaimed my mistress, in a perplexed tone, as she stood by my side, “and there doesn’t seem to be a sign of any stone having hurt him anywhere.”

“Perhaps it was only the ground over which we have just come that made him go lame,” suggested Emily. “I noticed it was very stony.”

“Well, it may be that,” replied my mistress; “we will go on, and try a little way farther.”

And, getting into the carriage, she touched me very lightly with the whip, saying:

“Now, Neddy dear, go on.”

And very, very slowly I went, limping more, and more, and more at every step I took.

“Oh, Emily, I cannot bear this,” I heard my kind mistress say, in a tone of the sincerest pity. “It makes me quite miserable to see the pain the poor creature is in. We must give up our drive for to-day, and go home;” and, checking me as she spoke, she turned me around toward home.

Oh, how my heart beat with joy to think of my successful cheat! “Ah! ah!” thought I; “it is all very well for you to hold the reins, but I can teach you the way to go. I am master now for all time coming; and I flatter myself you will never take Neddy again where he does not wish to go.”

But my joy was destined to be of short duration. In my conceited delight at having so successfully duped my mistress, I quite forgot that, to make my trick successful, it was necessary that the deception should be carried on to the end; and no sooner was I aware that I was going home than I trotted off as brisk as could be.

A hearty laugh from my mistress and her friend awoke me from my dream of security. I started as I heard the words, “Would you have believed that he could have feigned so skilfully?” and in another moment I felt myself turned back on the road to Barstead, whilst the most hearty whipping I had ever received from my mistress fell on my devoted shoulders.

It was in vain for me to go lame now. I limped till I almost fell to the ground; my mistress only flogged the harder, until, at length, in despair, I gave up the struggle; and, although in a thoroughly sulky and obstinate humour, I consented to draw the carriage up to Barstead.

Ah! who may tell what bitter thoughts were mine, as I stood waiting for my mistress, tied, as usual, to that horrid post! It was not only the whipping I had received,—that was bad enough, and my shoulders ached again with the cuts,—but to have been discovered in my cheat, this was what galled me to the quick, and for the moment I forgot the fault in the shame of the discovery. In my rage I looked eagerly around, hoping I might see my tempter, and ease my own misery by venting my ill-humour on him who had given me the evil counsel. I had better have looked nearer home, and seen who was the real author of all my wretchedness.

But my fault was destined to meet with a still sharper punishment. Not very long after this excursion to Barstead, my mistress was driving me over a road which had just been repaired, and one of the little flints happened to fix itself just under my shoe, and on the softest point of my hoof. Oh, the pain I felt! I shuddered all over; I could hardly put my foot to the ground, and limped along in the greatest agony.

“No, no,” said my mistress, whipping me sharply; “no more of this nonsense! Come, make haste and go on.”

Alas and alas for the lie which I had acted! How well I remembered how kindly my mistress had pitied me before! how soothingly she had caressed me! and how I had laughed at her for her pains! Ah! now, instead of whipping me on, increasing my wretchedness every moment, she would, but for my own fault, have seen to me as before, and in a moment my tormentor would have been removed. The knowledge that I had brought it all upon myself did not tend to mitigate the pain; and, though I tried to limp on as fast as possible, I nearly fainted with the agony I was enduring.

At length my evident discomfort moved the compassion of my kind-hearted mistress.

“I do really think Neddy has got a stone in his foot to-day,” she said; “at any rate, I will look before I go on any farther.”

Who may tell how grateful I was for a kindness so much greater than I deserved? and, as she got out of the chaise, I held up my foot that she might know at once where the stone was, and see that this time at least I was not deceiving her.

“Poor Neddy! poor fellow!” exclaimed my mistress, as she carefully drew out the stone; “I do not wonder you limped; it must have hurt you dreadfully. But see, Neddy, what it is to deceive; no one believes you when you really are hurt. Cunning people outwit themselves. I wish I could make you understand me. I am very sorry for you poor, poor Neddy!”

Her kindness softened my heart. Not all the pain and the punishment could have made me repent so deeply as did my mistress’s kind words. Oh, how I wished I could make her know all that was passing in my mind! and I rubbed my head against her, and looked up in her face, hoping she would see how truly I thanked her. For the moment my feelings toward my mistress had made me forget my own sufferings; but no sooner did I put my foot to the ground than I was recalled to a recollection of my late agony. It was in vain to attempt to trot. The slowest hobble gave me such pain that I was obliged to stand quite still to recover my breath. My dear mistress seemed sincerely sorry. She turned toward home immediately, driving me back as slowly and gently as possible. On my arrival at home, warm fomentations were instantly applied; but there was so much inflammation that it was days before I could hobble about even in my field and on the soft green grass, and not for weeks did I entirely get over the effects of the accident.

During this illness of mine, I had plenty of time for reflection, and for seeing not only how foolish, but how wrong, my conduct had been, and what ill results it had brought on me.

“Ah, Neddy!” said my mistress one day, when, as usual, she had been tenderly inquiring after my wounded foot, “I hope this will be a lesson to you for life.”

“How can you be so absurd, Annie, as to talk in this way to a donkey?” said my mistress’s companion.

“Neddy understands me: I am sure he does,” was the reply. “Look how sensibly he looks up in my face. He can do almost everything but speak.”

And though, perhaps, I did not understand everything she said just in the sense which you would apply to it, kind reader, I took in quite sufficient to make me deeply regret the past, and determine to try and amend in the future.

CHAPTER V.

NEDDY AT THE FAIR