134 AN ANGLER AT LARGE 



hedge, and one discovers that the cart is just 

 not standing still. For in the ingenious art of 

 sugaring Jack is second to none. I assure myself 

 that the club is in the cart, but I do not so much 

 as finger it, for it is a principle with me never 

 to belabour this poor dumb brute until I am well 

 away from the chance of observation. On the 

 downs, however, it is different. There the eyes 

 of my wife and my Maker alone see what I do 

 to this ass, and I have no fear. The one is in the 

 same cart as I. The Other is able to judge 

 between me and this ass, and I have absolute 

 confidence of acquittal. But the hasty miscon- 

 ception of the ignorant I fear. My name would 

 look well in a brutality case. In human justice I 

 place no trust, but in that of Divinity I do 

 absolutely confide. 



There is a spot somewhere on the ass which 

 by repeated blows I have rendered less callous 

 than other parts of him. Sometimes I find it, 

 and the ass seems to start in his sleep. Thus 

 we gain a yard. 



We have gravely discussed the use upon the ass 

 of devices whose fiendish ingenuity and cruelty 

 make me blush for the brains which could imagine 

 them. I cannot write them down. 



A hair-pin I snatched it out has almost been 

 employed. But the hand of Mercy snatched 



