The Donkey's Lament

Oí. When I was a little b, I frliked and frollcked on the grass; Í I'd loüght to do, and naught to fear- But .bat was long ago, my dear. My naster came one mournf ui day, And tound me with my friendB at play: : 'It's time thatyou should work,' said he; And there wasno more fun for me." Now to you or me this little song wouldonly have sounded exactly like the braying of a donkey, but a flock of geese, who were grazing near the singer, understood donkey language perfectly, and crowded around him to listen. The melody wound up suddenly and ceased as they approached. "Isn't there any more?" said Mrs. Goose. "Well, yes," answered the donkey ; "there's a great deal more, but it isn't made yel." , "Who makes it then?" asked the gander. "Well," answered the donkey modestly, looking down at nis hoofs, "I do ; it is my own sad experience." "Keally, it isn't at all bad," said the gander ; "I could detect very few f aults in the metre; tobe sure its a very easy metre." "I was watching those young tures in the lield at piay," wem on uie ■ donkey, still looking down at nis hoofs, "and the sight recalled the days of my foalhood, and somehow, when much moved, my thoughts are apt to flow into verse." "Do give us some more, said Miss Molly Goosey ; "I am sure there must be a little more, and it is so sweetly touclnng- what did your master do The donkey cleared his throat several times, and then began again, stopping between the two verses to remark that the rope around his noseby which he was tethered made it very difflcult to open his mouth wide enough. "He tled me to a heavy cart, And dragged my head to make me start, And if I stroTe to bite or kick, He banged about me with a stick. Now, all along the stony roads, 1 stugger under heavy loads. And when I stop to pant and puff, He cannot scold at me enough." At this point Miss Molly became so visibly affected that she was obliged to turn away and hide her head f or a moment under her wing. "The cruel, wicked man!" she murmured. Then, after a moment's pause, she added, "Isn't there any more?" "Yes, there's a little moie," answered the donkey, and he began again - ■ ivf . „rtinii In a It Aft pflnua fl ATlfi "My master is a heartlesa tiend, Who" And here he stopped. "That's all," hesaid; "I cannot think of a rhyme toT'flend.'" "Couldn't y ou make a new line altogether there?" suggested Mrs. Goose. "Yes, I might do that, certainly," replied the donkey ; "but," he added, regretfully, "it's a very nice line." " 'Beaned' might do," put in the gander, "Beaned, you know- what do you say of a person who has eaten too many beans ; it's not a cornmon word, but that's an advantage, and it rhymes particularly well." "It might do, perhaps," said the donkey, rather gloomily, "but, you see, I never was beaned." " Who composed the music ?" asked Miss Molly. The donkey bowed so low that there was no mistaking the authorship. "I suppose those very long ears are particularly good f or music?" said Miss Molly. "Well," answered the donkey, "as you have mentioned it, I think I inay say, without being accused of vanity, that I believe they are." By this time the gander was becoming rather impatient of so many fine compliments. "Well," he said, "you seem to have rather a turn tor this sort ot thing ; it's a pity that you have to spend so much time drawing up water and fetching wood. If you had been able to take lessons in thorough-base, and study the standard poets, you really might have turned out something rather good. As it is, I wouldn't advise you to spend much time on it. Come along, my dear ladies." He marched on with his train, Miss Molly following reluctantly. Once she turned back, and threw a sympathizing glance at the poet, who was rolling on the grass, with sad eyes, and murmurmg softly, " Fiend!" Tiend!' if I could only think of a good rhyme tor ñend."