Abridged from the French Of Madame la Comtesse de Ségur

by
Charles Welsh

Edited by Charles F. Dole

Illustrated by E. H. Saunders

“I ate up several cabbages”

Dedication

To My Present Little Master, Harry.

My Dear Little Master,

You have been kind to me, but you have spoken contemptuously of donkeys in general. I want you to know better what sort of animals donkeys really are, and so I have written for you this story of my life. You will see, my dear little Master, that we donkeys have been, and still are, often badly treated by human beings. We are often very nice indeed; but I must also confess that in my youth I sometimes behaved very badly, and you will see how I was punished for it, and how unhappy I was, and how at last I repented, and how at last my repentance changed me and gained for me the forgiveness of my friends and masters. So, when you have read my history, you won’t say any more “as stupid as a donkey,” or “as obstinate as a donkey,” but “as sensible as a donkey,” “as clever as a donkey,” or “as gentle as a donkey.”

Hee-haw! my dear little Master, hee-haw! I hope you will never be as I was when I was young.

I remain,

Your obedient servant,
NEDDY.

Preface

I do not recollect my childhood; I was probably as unhappy as the rest of the little donkeys are; and no doubt as pretty and as graceful. Certainly I was full of wit and intelligence, for, old as I am now, I have more of both than most donkeys possess.

I have often outwitted some of my poor masters, who, being only men, could not be expected to have the intelligence of a donkey, — and I will begin my Memoirs with the story of a trick I once played in the days of my youth.

Introduction

The author of this book was the daughter of that Count Rostopchine who was governor of Moscow when it was burned in 1812, and Napoleon was obliged in consequence to make his disastrous retreat from that city. Born in 1799, Sophie de Rostopchine married, in 1821, the Count de Ségur, a son of one of the oldest and proudest families of France. She was a very accomplished and lovable person, and, as her writings attest, she was thoroughly in sympathy with the ways and feelings of children.

She did not begin to publish her stories until she was fifty-seven years of age, but between that date and the time of her death in 1874, she wrote and brought out a great many books for children.

The “Memoirs of a Donkey,” published in 1860, is one of the most popular, wholesome, and entertaining of her books. It is longer in the original than the version here given, as it contains a great number of scenes that could interest only the boys and girls of France; and there are many incidents in which the donkey scarcely figures. We have, therefore, given in this book the story of Neddy, the donkey. His adventures are interesting and amusing enough by themselves, and as there has been nothing quite like them originally written in English, we have included this retelling of the story in our Home and School Classics.

Chapter I

Men, poor things, can’t be expected to be as wise as donkeys, and therefore you probably do not know that there was a market in our country-town every Tuesday. At this market vegetables were sold, and butter, and eggs, and cheese, and fruit, and many other nice things.

Tuesday was a miserable day for the poor donkeys, and especially for me. I belonged to a farmer’s wife, and she was very severe and ill-tempered. Just think! every week she used to load up my back with all the eggs her hens laid, all the butter and cheese she made from the milk of her cows, all the vegetables and fruit that were ready for market out of her garden. Then she would get on the top of all this and beat me with a hard, knotty stick because my poor thin legs didn’t carry her to market with all that load as fast as she liked. I trotted, I almost galloped, but that farmer’s wife whipped me all the same. I used to get very angry at such cruelty and injustice. I tried to kick her off, but I was loaded down too heavily, and so I could only wobble about from side to side; but I did have the satisfaction of knowing that she was well jolted. Then she would growl, “Ah, you wretched animal! see if I don’t teach you to wobble!” and she would beat me again till I could scarcely keep on my legs.

One day we reached the market-town in this way, and the baskets with which my poor back had been nearly crushed were taken off and set down upon the ground. My mistress hitched me to a post, and went away to get her dinner. I was dying of hunger and thirst, but nobody thought of offering me a single blade of grass or a drop of water. While the farmer’s wife was away, I managed to get my head close to the basket of vegetables, and made a dinner of the cabbages and lettuces. I never tasted anything so good.

I had just finished the last cabbage and the last lettuce in that basket when my mistress came back. She cried out when she saw the empty basket, and I looked at her with such an impudent and self-satisfied air, that she at once guessed that I was the culprit. I won’t repeat to you the mean things she said to me. When she was angry she used language which was enough to make me blush, donkey as I am. So after heaping me with abuse, of which I took no notice, she seized her stick and began to beat me so severely, that at last I lost patience and launched out three kicks. The first kick broke her nose and two teeth, the second sprained her wrist, and the third knocked her flat.

A score of people at once set upon me and knocked me about. They picked up my mistress and carried her away, leaving me fastened to the post, by the side of which were spread out the things I had brought to be sold in the market. I remained there a long while, and finding that no one paid any more attention to me, I ate a second basketful of excellent vegetables, and then with my teeth I gnawed through the cord that tied me up, and quietly took the road home.

The people I passed on the way were astonished to see me all alone.

“Look,” said one, “see that ass with the broken nose! He has run away.”

“Then he has run away from prison,” said the other, and they all began to laugh.

“He doesn’t carry a heavy load upon his back,” said a third.

“Certainly he has done some mischief,” a fourth one said.

“Catch him and we will put the little one upon his back,” said a woman.

“He will carry you as well as the little boy,” answered her husband.

I, wishing to give a good opinion of my kindness and good will, came gently towards the country woman and stopped near her to let her mount upon my back.

“He doesn’t seem a bad sort!” said the man, helping his wife to the saddle.

I smiled with pity on hearing this remark. Bad! as if a donkey kindly treated were ever bad! We become angry, disobedient, and obstinate only to revenge ourselves for the blows and injuries we receive. When we are well treated we are good, — much better, in fact, than many other animals.

I took the young woman and her little child of two years back to their home; they stroked me, were very much pleased with me, and would willingly have kept me.

But it was, I thought, not honest to stay with them. My masters had bought me and I be longed to them. I had already broken my mistress’s nose, teeth, and wrist, and had kicked her in the stomach. I was sufficiently revenged.

“I jumped clean over the Hedge.

“I jumped clean over the hedge”

Seeing that the mother was going to give in to her little boy (who I noticed was a spoiled child), I jumped to one side, and before the mother could catch my bridle again, I ran away at a gallop and came back to my home.

Mary, my mistress’s little girl, saw me come back.

“Hallo, here’s Neddy,” she said; “how early he is! Jim, come and take off his pack-saddle.”

“That wretched donkey!” growled Jim; “always something to be done for him! Why is he alone? I suspect he has run away from mother.”

My saddle and bridle were taken off, and I galloped away to the meadow. Suddenly I heard shrieks. I looked over the hedge, and saw some men carrying my mistress home. Then I heard Jim say: —

“I say, father, I’m going to take the cart-whip, and I shall tie that donkey to a tree, and then whip him till he can’t stand.”

“All right, my lad,” said my master, “but mind and don’t kill him, for he cost money. I’ll sell him next fair-day.”

I shuddered when I heard this. There wasn’t a moment to be lost. This time I did not care whether they lost their money or not. I made a run and jumped clean over the hedge. Then I ran till I was out of sight and hearing in the depths of a beautiful large forest, where there was plenty of soft grass to eat, and plenty of sparkling brooks to drink from.

Chapter II

Next day after, I thought over my good fortune. “Here I am saved,” thought I; “they never will find me, and in a couple of days, when I am quite rested, I will go farther on.”

Just then I heard the far-off barking of a dog; then of a second one; and several minutes afterwards the yelling of a whole pack. Restless and frightened, I got up and went towards a little brook that I had noticed in the morning. I had hardly ventured into the water, when I heard Jules saying to the dogs, “Go on, go on, dogs, search him out, find this miserable donkey, and bring him back to me.”

I nearly fell down with fright, but I quickly remembered that if I walked in the water the dogs could not follow my scent. So I began to run in the brook which was fortunately bordered on both sides with thick bushes.

I went on for a long time without stopping. The barking of the dogs as well as the voice of Jules became fainter, until at last I heard nothing more.