I took in my right hand the unhallowed staff, and with a quaking
spirit applied it to the donkey. Modestine brisked up her pace for

perhaps three steps, and then relapsed into her former minuet.
Another application had the same effect, and so with the third. I

am worthy the name of an Englishman, and it goes against my
conscience to lay my hand rudely on a female. I desisted, and

looked her all over from head to foot; the poor brute's knees were
trembling and her breathing was distressed; it was plain that she

could go no faster on a hill. God forbid, thought I, that I should
brutalise this innocent creature; let her go at her own pace, and

let me patiently follow.
What that pace was, there is no word mean enough to describe; it

was something as much slower than a walk as a walk is slower than a
run; it kept me hanging on each foot for an incredible length of

time; in five minutes it exhausted the spirit and set up a fever in
all the muscles of the leg. And yet I had to keep close at hand

and measure my advance exactly upon hers; for if I dropped a few
yards into the rear, or went on a few yards ahead, Modestine came

instantly to a halt and began to browse. The thought that this was
to last from here to Alais nearly broke my heart. Of all

conceivable journeys, this promised to be the most tedious. I
tried to tell myself it was a lovely day; I tried to charm my

foreboding spirit with tobacco; but I had a vision ever present to
me of the long, long roads, up hill and down dale, and a pair of

figures ever infinitesimally moving, foot by foot, a yard to the
minute, and, like things enchanted in a nightmare, approaching no

nearer to the goal.
In the meantime there came up behind us a tall peasant, perhaps

forty years of age, of an ironical snuffy countenance, and arrayed
in the green tail-coat of the country. He overtook us hand over

hand, and stopped to consider our pitiful advance.
'Your donkey,' says he, 'is very old?'

I told him, I believed not.
Then, he supposed, we had come far.

I told him, we had but newly left Monastier.
'ET VOUS MARCHEZ COMME CA!' cried he; and, throwing back his head,

he laughed long and heartily. I watched him, half prepared to feel
offended, until he had satisfied his mirth; and then, 'You must

have no pity on these animals,' said he; and, plucking a switch out
of a thicket, he began to lace Modestine about the stern-works,

uttering a cry. The rogue pricked up her ears and broke into a
good round pace, which she kept up without flagging, and without

exhibiting the least symptom of distress, as long as the peasant
kept beside us. Her former panting and shaking had been, I regret

to say, a piece of comedy.
My DEUS EX MACHINA, before he left me, supplied some excellent, if

inhumane, advice; presented me with the switch, which he declared
she would feel more tenderly than my cane; and finally taught me

the true cry or masonic word of donkey-drivers, 'Proot!' All the
time, he regarded me with a comical, incredulous air, which was

embarrassing to confront; and smiled over my donkey-driving, as I
might have smiled over his orthography, or his green tail-coat.

But it was not my turn for the moment.
I was proud of my new lore, and thought I had learned the art to

perfection. And certainly Modestine did wonders for the rest of
the fore-noon, and I had a breathing space to look about me. It

was Sabbath; the mountain-fields were all vacant in the sunshine;
and as we came down through St. Martin de Frugeres, the church was

crowded to the door, there were people kneeling without upon the
steps, and the sound of the priest's chanting came forth out of the

dim interior. It gave me a home feeling on the spot; for I am a
countryman of the Sabbath, so to speak, and all Sabbath

observances, like a Scottish accent, strike in me mixed feelings,
grateful and the reverse. It is only a traveller, hurrying by like

a person from another planet, who can rightly enjoy the peace and
beauty of the great ascetic feast. The sight of the resting

country does his spirit good. There is something better than music
in the wide unusual silence; and it disposes him to amiable

thoughts, like the sound of a little river or the warmth of
sunlight.

In this pleasant humour I came down the hill to where Goudet stands
in a green end of a valley, with Chateau Beaufort opposite upon a

rocky steep, and the stream, as clear as crystal, lying in a deep
pool between them. Above and below, you may hear it wimpling over

the stones, an amiable stripling of a river, which it seems absurd
to call the Loire. On all sides, Goudet is shut in by mountains;

rocky footpaths, practicable at best for donkeys, join it to the
outer world of France; and the men and women drink and swear, in

their green corner, or look up at the snow-clad peaks in winter
from the threshold of their homes, in an isolation, you would

think, like that of Homer's Cyclops. But it is not so; the postman
reaches Goudet with the letter-bag; the aspiring youth of Goudet

are within a day's walk of the railway at Le Puy; and here in the
inn you may find an engraved portrait of the host's nephew, Regis

Senac, 'Professor of Fencing and Champion of the two Americas,' a
distinction gained by him, along with the sum of five hundred

dollars, at Tammany Hall, New York, on the 10th April 1876.
I hurried over my midday meal, and was early forth again. But,

alas, as we climbed the interminable hill upon the other side,
'Proot!' seemed to have lost its virtue. I prooted like a lion, I

prooted mellifluously like a sucking-dove; but Modestine would be
neither softened nor intimidated. She held doggedly to her pace;

nothing but a blow would move her, and that only for a second. I
must follow at her heels, incessantly be-labouring. A moment's

pause in this ignoble toil, and she relapsed into her own private
gait. I think I never heard of any one in as mean a situation. I

must reach the lake of Bouchet, where I meant to camp, before
sundown, and, to have even a hope of this, I must instantly

maltreat this uncomplaining animal. The sound of my own blows
sickened me. Once, when I looked at her, she had a faint

resemblance to a lady of my acquaintance who formerly loaded me
with kindness; and this increased my horror of my cruelty.

To make matters worse, we encountered another donkey, ranging at
will upon the roadside; and this other donkey chanced to be a

gentleman. He and Modestine met nickering for joy, and I had to
separate the pair and beat down their young romance with a renewed

and feverish bastinado. If the other donkey had had the heart of a
male under his hide, he would have fallen upon me tooth and hoof;

and this was a kind of consolation - he was plainly unworthy of
Modestine's affection. But the incident saddened me, as did

everything that spoke of my donkey's sex.
It was blazing hot up the valley, windless, with vehement sun upon

my shoulders; and I had to labour so consistently with my stick
that the sweat ran into my eyes. Every five minutes, too, the

pack, the basket, and the pilot-coat would take an ugly slew to one
side or the other; and I had to stop Modestine, just when I had got

her to a tolerable pace of about two miles an hour, to tug, push,
shoulder, and readjust the load. And at last, in the village of

Ussel, saddle and all, the whole hypothec turned round and
grovelled in the dust below the donkey's belly. She, none better

pleased, incontinently drew up and seemed to smile; and a party of
one man, two women, and two children came up, and, standing round

me in a half-circle, encouraged her by their example.
I had the devil's own trouble to get the thing righted; and the

instant I had done so, without hesitation, it toppled and fell down
upon the other side. Judge if I was hot! And yet not a hand was

offered to assist me. The man, indeed, told me I ought to have a
package of a different shape. I suggested, if he knew nothing

better to the point in my predicament, he might hold his tongue.
And the good-natured dog agreed with me smilingly. It was the most

despicable fix. I must plainly content myself with the pack for
Modestine, and take the following items for my own share of the

portage: a cane, a quart-flask, a pilot-jacket heavily weighted in
the pockets, two pounds of black bread, and an open basket full of

meats and bottles. I believe I may say I am not devoid of
greatness of soul; for I did not recoil from this infamous burden.

I disposed it, Heaven knows how, so as to be mildlyportable, and
then proceeded to steer Modestine through the village. She tried,

as was indeed her invariable habit, to enter every house and every
courtyard in the whole length; and, encumbered as I was, without a