to load the donkey; and ten minutes after, my hopes were in the dust. The
pad would not stay on Modestine's back for half a moment. I returned it
to its maker, with whom I had so contumelious a passage that the street
outside was crowded from wall to wall with gossips looking on and
listening. The pad changed hands with much vivacity; perhaps it would be
more descriptive to say that we threw it at each other's heads; and, at
any rate, we were very warm and unfriendly, and spoke with a deal of
freedom.

I had a common donkey pack-saddle--a barde, as they call it--fitted upon
Modestine; and once more loaded her with my effects. The doubled sack,
my pilot-coat (for it was warm, and I was to walk in my waistcoat), a
great bar of black bread, and an open basket containing the white bread,
the mutton, and the bottles, were all corded together in a very elaborate
system of knots, and I looked on the result with fatuous content. In
such a monstrous deck-cargo, all poised above the donkey's shoulders,
with nothing below to balance, on a brand-new pack-saddle that had not
yet been worn to fit the animal, and fastened with brand-new girths that
might be expected to stretch and slacken by the way, even a very careless
traveller should have seen disaster brewing. That elaborate system of
knots, again, was the work of too many sympathisers to be very artfully
designed. It is true they tightened the cords with a will; as many as
three at a time would have a foot against Modestine's quarters, and be
hauling with clenched teeth; but I learned afterwards that one thoughtful
person, without any exercise of force, can make a more solid job than
half-a-dozen heated and enthusiastic grooms. I was then but a novice;
even after the misadventure of the pad nothing could disturb my security,
and I went forth from the stable door as an ox goeth to the slaughter.