140 AN ANGLER AT LARGE 



it, but because the ass wishes it. On our first 

 excursion to the downs he behaved himself most 

 seemly. "This," he thought, "is only once in 

 a lifetime. I can stick it out, for hang it ! they 

 have given me lettuces." But the second time 

 was too much for the small spark of gratitude 

 and decency which then lurked in the black soul 

 of this beast. It went out. " This," he thought, 

 " is getting a bit too tough altogether. Confound 

 them and their pate defoiegras ! " And he lifted 

 up his voice in protest. The sacred peace of our 

 hill-tops was shattered by outrageous sounds. 

 The song of the ass is above nightingales in 

 one respect. It absolutely ensures attention. A 

 shocked world stopped to listen, laying aside its 

 business of rolling, and we we went home, lest 

 the solar system be disorganised. I prayed to the 

 ass ; I appealed to his better nature. He had 

 none. I appealed to his hide the argumentum 

 ad baculum. He only made more and horrider 

 sounds. The study of Spanish was suspended. 

 A vigorous impression of Scotch pines was lost 

 to the world. What did the ass care ? Nothing. 

 He was going back to paddock. 



Since that afternoon he has always given the 

 signal for return. I am only surprised that he 

 does not do it before we leave Willows. But let 

 him try it. I would lather him braying through 



