CHAPTER III. HAREBY WOOD, AND "THE STORY OF GRAY DICK."

THE picnic was to be different from most such parties, for Uncle Paul was to furnish "all" the dainties, and the young guests to bring only themselves. Mamma was to be the one grown-up lady present, and that on condition that she would not be above riding in a great wagon with the children and provisions, and would sit upon a hamper, with some hay on the top, by way of a cushion. To these conditions mamma good-humouredly consented, and took her place on the large hamper, with a little one for a footstool, lest her toes should suffer amongst so many restless feet, which kept beating-time to the music of their owners' glad hearts.

It was the most delightful mode of conveyance—rather slow, for there was a heavy load; but the wagon was on springs, and the distance only three miles. Mamma said it carried "her" a long way back, even over five-and-twenty years, and made her once more a child amongst children.

As to Uncle Paul, he joked and rattled on so as to put everybody in the best possible humour during the journey to Hareby Wood. Then mamma was first handed down from "the four-wheeled carriage," as the youngsters called it, and afterwards the little folks, the wagon being drawn up under a great tree, and the horses taken out.

Uncle Paul's loving temper proved infectious, and a spirit of kindliness, not always to be found amongst children out for a holiday, reigned amongst his guests. There were no little toddlers left behind to cry after those who were fleeter of foot, no disputes about the place in which they should dine; and when Mrs. Ingram and Uncle Paul were led to the chosen spot, they each and all declared it was charmingly suited for the purpose.

It was a circular hollow, in a beautiful part of the wood. Its sides were fringed with trees high enough to shelter them from the heat, but not to shut out the sun's bright rays. At the bottom was a little rise, which might have been made for a fairy-table, it answered so capitally for that piece of furniture.

Then, before dinner, away went the children to seek for flowers and gather wild-strawberries, which seemed ever so much sweeter than those brought from home, because gathered at some cost of time and trouble.

Often the children startled the hares, which bounded off at their approach, fleet as the wind; or squirrels, which darted up the trunk of a tree, and leaped from bough to bough, almost as fast as a bird flies. The air, too, teemed with music, and not the least pleasant part in dear Uncle Paul's ears was the sound of the children's merry voices ringing through the wood. And, to be sure, at dinner-time the good things "did" disappear fast from that grassy table!

After dinner, while the children rested, it was unanimously voted that Uncle Paul should tell a tale, and, a donkey happening at that moment to bray, Uncle Paul said: "That reminds me that I have a story to tell you about a donkey," and thus began—

"THE STORY OF GRAY DICK."

"Everybody said that Gray Dick was by far the handsomest donkey at Beacham. Instead of being of a dingy, grizzled brown colour, as most of the other donkeys were, Dick was a beautiful light-gray, and his coat was smooth, and almost silky looking. To tell the truth about it, 'his' sides had not been battered by attendant-boys as theirs had; neither had he, as yet, been nearly run off his legs by carrying people on his back from 'early morn to dewy eve' like the others, at the rate of sixpence an hour, which the master got, while the poor donkeys had not so much as an extra thistle all the summer through.

"But Gray Dick was a newcomer 'just out,' and quite a youngster. It was his very first season by the sea-side, and he was rather proud of his new brown Holland housings, bound with brightest scarlet; of bearing the very best of Beacham saddles; and of being placed in the most conspicuous position on 'the stand,' as the very prince of Beacham donkeys. Such a position was a temptation, and calculated to turn the head of any young donkey.

"Dick was proud of his sleek skin and new clothing, and gave himself many needless airs in consequence. He even taunted some of his elder and less attractive companions because they obtained so little notice in comparison with himself. However, he soon began to find out why his neighbour, 'Brown Jerry,' shook his long ears in that sagacious way without a word of reply to his sneers; and what 'Old Grizzle,' at his right hand, meant when she advised him to wait a little while before he began to bray over other people, as though he were the only handsome donkey in existence.

"Gray Dick found out that there were penalties which donkeys must pay for the privilege of occupying a distinguished position, as 'all' persons of rank do discover, sooner or later. He never had a minute's rest. From daylight to dark, he was always at work, in consequence of his being young, strong, and handsome. All the boys and girls, when they came to the stand to choose a donkey for an hour's ride, wanted Gray Dick; so the poor fellow was nearly worked to death, because people liked him the best.

"Sometimes, he resolved he would not bear it any longer, and he threw himself down, and rolled on the sands, heels uppermost. Then he found that the attendant-boy paid no respect to his handsome coat, but just hit him as hard and with as thick a stick as if he were the oldest and ugliest donkey at Beacham. So poor Dick was fain to get up and trudge on again, though his legs were fit to break with weariness. After all, it is of no use fighting against necessity. If we have duties to do which are hard and disagreeable, it is always the best way to work as steadily, and do as much and as well as we can, instead of struggling against what we cannot help; because, you know, then we have a quiet conscience.

"Before Dick was quite exhausted, the weather began to grow cold, and the company gradually left the sea-side; but, to the very last, he had cause rather to regret his good-looks; for so long as any person was left to take an hour's ride, Dick was the donkey called for to carry him or her, as the case might be.

"The longest day must have an end, and so must the longest summer. Dick had just begun to rejoice that his troubles were over for the present, and that he should have a long rest, when another cause of uneasiness came into his mind: how was he to be fed during the winter? He overheard his master say, that he did not know how to keep all those donkeys, now they were earning nothing.

"If Dick dared to have spoken his thoughts in donkey-language, he would have said:

"Master, be pleased to remember how hard I worked during the summer. Then, I and my companions earned enough to support you and all your family, and I know you have some money put by in the old square tea-caddy for a rainy-day.'

"But Dick dared not speak, and his master was unfortunately one of those persons who are apt to forget past benefits if the least thing goes contrary to their present wishes.

"Luckily for Dick, but unfortunately for his master, one of the man's children fell sick. The doctor was called in, and happened to hear the father grumbling because his donkeys cost so much and earned so little during the winter. Now, the doctor had a field with nothing in it, so he said:

"'If you like to send one of your asses to me, I will keep him during the winter; only my little boys will want a ride sometimes.'

"'Come and choose which you will have,' said the man, quite delighted at the doctor's proposal.

"Who doubts that Gray Dick was the donkey selected, the very instant he came in sight? That same evening, he was sent to his new quarters, with his master's compliments, and the young gentlemen need not be afraid to ride the gray ass, as he was strong, and very well-behaved in general. It was a good change for Dick, who was put into a large field, and a horse sent to bear him company.

"At first, he was quite delighted with the improvement in his prospects, but, after a time, he began to grumble because the horse was put into a stable at night, and he was only allowed to shelter himself in an enclosure without a roof. This was a far more comfortable place than his late companions of the stand were in. They were turned out on a bare common near the sea-shore, and, let the weather be what it might, had no shelter at all. Dick ought to have considered how much worse off others were than himself; instead of that, he only thought of those who were still better off, and envied them their good-fortune.

"Dick, in prosperity, was by no means humble; he complained bitterly to his neighbour, the horse, of the manner in which he was treated, instead of being grateful for his position and comforts. The horse was a good-natured creature, and, when he had heard his companion's doleful tale, he very politely said: 'Do step into my stable; there is room for us both.'

"In walked Dick; but when the groom came to give the horse his supper, he turned him out again without the least ceremony, to the intense mortification of the donkey.

"Dick sulked the next day, and made up his mind not to let the doctor's little son have a ride on his back; but when he found that if he persisted in such conduct, he would be exchanged for another donkey, and sent to take his chance with his brethren on Beacham Common, he wisely gave in. Still, it was only out of consideration for himself that he yielded, which was not a very good motive, for we ought to have a kindly feeling for the convenience of others also.

"Soon after, Dick's companion, the horse, was taken away from the field, and he felt very lonely indeed. The horse had been very kind to him, and, like all well-bred persons, never boasted of his superior position in society, or looked down upon Dick, in order to make him feel his inferiority. This ought to have been a lesson to his little gray friend; but it was not, for, some weeks afterwards, when a cow was put into the field, Dick affected to consider her beneath him. When, at length, his longing for society in a manner forced him to make friends with the cow, he was always boasting of the company he had kept, as though his having been 'with the horse' had raised him above the generality of donkeys. The cow—good, homely body!—listened quite admiringly to Dick's tales, not only about his late companion's regard for him, but also respecting the manner in which he was sought after at Beacham, while he occupied the first place on the stand there during the past summer.

"When Dick had an opportunity of giving his opinion of the cow to any passing acquaintance that chanced to walk close beside the palings, he always lamented that he was doomed to have such a companion; 'for,' as he remarked, 'how can a dull creature like Brindle enter into my feelings, or form an idea of fashionable life? If she could but spend a season at the sea-side, it would be an excellent thing for her, and would improve her manners and intellect.'

"So the foolish donkey went on, pretending to despise the cow, while in his own secret heart, he was very glad indeed to have her company, but far too proud to own that honest Brindle 'could' be of consequence to a person of such importance as he fancied himself to be.

"One day, Gray Dick heard the click of the gate, and, on looking round, saw a man with a blue linen coat on. He imagined the stranger was come to call upon him; but no—Brindle was wanted, not Dick, though he tried to push himself before the cow, and attract the visitor's notice. If he had known all, he would not have been so anxious to make this man's acquaintance.

"At first, Brindle appeared inclined to get out of the way, but the blue-coated man held a piece of cake, and she was induced to follow him quietly. When Dick saw she was nearing the gate, he determined to go too, for he remembered his lonely days, and dreaded being left by himself again. This was not allowed. A smart blow over poor Brindle's flank made her spring forward, and a stroke from a stick drove Dick back. The gate swung to, and the donkey was sole tenant of the field once more. He was not ashamed to shew his feelings then. He battered the gate with his hoofs, poked his head over the palings, and never heeded when their sharp points hurt him; but it was of no use. He could not open the gates or bring back poor patient Brindle, who received more than one blow because she kept turning to look at Gray Dick, and to low a farewell in answer to his impatient bray, that begged her to return as soon as possible.

"That very evening, as Dick was looking over the palings, hoping to see his companion on her way back, he caught sight of the blue-coated man wheeling a barrow. On this lay something that made Dick's blood run cold; it was either poor Brindle's skin, or that of a cow very like her. Taking all things into consideration, there could be very little doubt of Brindle's fate. And at that very moment Dick was making good resolutions. The absence of his humble-minded friend had rendered him sensible of her merits. All her patience, gentleness, and goodwill had struck him as things most desirable in a companion. He felt sorry that he had often been contemptuous, conceited, and short-tempered, and was determining on a different course of conduct, when he found out that, so far as she was concerned, the opportunity was gone for ever."

Uncle Paul looked round at his little hearers, and added: "Gray Dick was a good deal like many people, both young and old—they do not value the kindness, love, and patience of those who are their everyday companions until they are deprived of them; and often, when it is too late, they begin to make good resolutions. Still, if they 'have' done wrong in one instance, they may be careful not to commit the same fault in another."

"But what became of Gray Dick?" asked quite a chorus of young voices, whose owners wanted something like a positive ending to Uncle Paul's story of the donkey.

"Why, after spending some weeks without so much as a sheep to bear him company, he was sent back to Beacham, to the fashionable society about which he used to talk in boastful language. Being still strong and good-looking, he retains the favour of the public, but would most gladly exchange it for the quiet pasture, and the society of such another friend as poor Brindle. Dick is not so proud as he used to be, though, and has even owned to Brown Jerry and Grizzle—this is of course in confidence—that he was a very foolish fellow in his young days, and did not know when he was really well-off."

"And now, then, away with you for another scamper through the wood, children!" said Uncle Paul. "Yet do not forget the moral of Gray Dick's story:

   "'Be thankful for all the blessings you possess, but do not boast of them; and use them well, for fear they should be taken from you, if you neglect so doing.'"

The youngsters thanked kind Uncle Paul; and then away they went in various directions to seek flowers, and make the wood ring again with their laughter.

When the children all returned to the place which had served as a dining-room, they were enchanted to find that tea was to be prepared also out of doors, and that a kettle was to be slung and water boiled in true gipsy fashion. It was new work for them to gather sticks to keep up the fire, and to assist in getting tea ready. It seemed quite a pity when it was all over, and the dew upon the grass gave warning that they must return home. Then mamma was mounted upon the hay-cushioned hamper, now lightened of its contents; and in good-humour, but very tired, they rode back to Hay-Lodge in the great wagon.

Uncle Paul would not tell any stories on the way home, for, he said, if he were to begin, they would all go to sleep, and then it would be a tale wasted. The children promised to keep awake, and laughed and coaxed, but it was to no purpose; and when they reached Hay-Lodge, it was found that more than one little sleeper had to be roused. As to Kate Ingram, she was fast asleep on Uncle Paul's knee, with her arms round his neck, and her curly head resting on his shoulder. But everybody, old and young, declared that no day had ever been spent more pleasantly than that at Hareby Wood; and no carriage was ever better fitted for conveying people to a picnic than Uncle Paul's great wagon.