OF AN ASS 139 



regard our recreations. And we give him no 

 sort of attention. Poor beast ! He cannot re- 

 cognise the preparation of tea and the acquirement 

 of a Spanish vocabulary, nor yet the production 

 of lovely pictures, when these phenomena present 

 themselves to his notice. To him they are as the 

 weaving of sand -ropes. (And who shall say that 

 he is wrong ?) Boredom unspeakable descends 

 upon him. He surely hates us. At one point 

 only our proceedings acquire a certain interest 

 in his sight. It is when my wife gives him food. 

 I have referred to marmalade sandwiches. But 

 this is not the tale of his luxuries. Plum-cake 

 he knows, and sugar and macaroons and cucumber 

 and radishes. Gingerbread, too, he accepts. But 

 we enjoy his gingerbread more than he, for its 

 stickiness wraps it round his bit, and for long his 

 tongue explores for outlying portions. Since the 

 discovery of this entertainment we carry ginger- 

 bread always. Besides brown bread, he also eats 

 brown-paper and tissue-paper and string. And 

 he would once have eaten Oxide of Chromium, 

 but I rescued the tube. And there was a camp- 

 stool which we could never find. But perhaps 

 I insinuate an injustice. Let it stand. He has 

 more on his conscience than a camp-stool. For 

 at half-past five he begins to bray. It is the signal 

 for departure, and we depart, not because we wish 



