the field from the road--"Gently, gently," said he; "the sound of the
stick spoils the singing! Oh, Mr. Sprott, Mr. Sprott! a good man is
merciful to his beast."

The donkey seemed to recognize the voice of its friend, for it stopped
short, pricked one ear wistfully, and looked up. The tinker touched his
hat, and looked up too. "Lord bless your reverence! he does not mind
it,--he likes it. I vould not hurt thee; would I, Neddy?"

The donkey shook his head and shivered; perhaps a fly had settled on the
sore, which the chestnut leaves no longer protected.

"I am sure you did not mean to hurt him, Sprott," said the parson, more
politely I fear than honestly,--for he had seen enough of that cross-
grained thing called the human heart, even in the little world of a
country parish, to know that it requires management and coaxing and
flattering, to interfere successfully between a man and his own donkey,--
"I am sure you did not mean to hurt him; but he has already got a sore on
his shoulder as big as my hand, poor thing!"

"Lord love 'un! yes; that was done a playing with the manger the day I
gave 'un oats!" said the tinker.

Dr. Riccabocca adjusted his spectacles, and surveyed the ass. The ass
pricked up his other ear, and surveyed Dr. Riccabocca. In that mutual
survey of physical qualifications, each being regarded according to the
average symmetry of its species, it may be doubted whether the advantage
was on the side of the philosopher.

The parson had a great notion of the wisdom of his friend in all matters