There was a miller, never mind in what part of the country, who had a tall, gawky son; but their combined wit had not proved sufficient to keep their business in a flourishing condition, for the poor man got poorer and poorer, selling one thing after another that was not absolutely required to keep the mill going, when, indeed, there was work for it to do, till the turn came for the donkey to be sold.
This donkey had been a faithful servant to the miller, who looked upon it as a friend, and being a kind feeling man, it was with a heavy heart he made up his mind to take it to the fair to sell—but there is no resisting necessity.
On the day of the fair, having some distance to go, he started early, and took his son with him, that they might both see the last of their friend.
The donkey walked on in front, thoughtfully and demurely, as donkeys are wont to do, whilst the father and son followed sorrowfully. They soon got into the high road, which was crowded with people going to the fair, and the two poor simple fellows soon became the butt of the different wits. “That is a hopeful son of yours,” one would say to the father; “you must feel proud of him I should think.” And another would say to the son, pointing with his thumb to his father, “The old ’un looks a tartar; does he whip you much?” Many of the like remarks we made to father and son, loud enough to be heard by both, though pretended to be in a whisper; but the principal shafts were shot at them in conversations carried on round about, not a word of which could they fail to hear.
“Did you ever see such an old fool as that,” said one, “to be walking along this hot road, and his donkey going on in front with nothing to carry?” “Oh,” another said, “that’s the donkey behind, for he in front is much the wiser of the two.” “I wonder,” another joined in, “the old fellow doesn’t take more care of himself at his time of life, if not for his own sake, at least for his baby’s, for what would become of the poor child if anything were to happen to him?”
Stung by these remarks the old man got on to the donkey, though he regretted giving the poor beast such a load to carry, and he sought to lighten it by partly walking, for his long legs easily reached the ground. This made matters worse, for he soon heard one of his tormentors say, “Look there, was there ever such an old brute? He’s taking it easy, and lets his poor boy toil along as best he can. Such an interesting child, too! Oh, if its mother did but know how cruelly her darling child is being treated.”
Hearing this the miller made his son take his place, and wondered, as he walked by his side, whether he was now doing right.
He was as far from it as ever, poor man, for he very shortly heard an exclamation, and this time from an old man, whose opinion should carry some weight. “Well, this is too bad; what will the world come to next? Here’s a big lout of a fellow riding whilst his old father’s walking. It’s disgraceful, that it is, for if even the fellow’s lame, at any rate he should make room for the old man. The donkey’s strong enough to carry the two.”
