Before reaching the steep portion of the ascent, the ladies of the party were provided with donkeys.
The Professor, whose age and avoirdupois rendered steephill climbing a matter of great difficulty, determined that he would ride.
A diminutive donkey, scarcely larger than a good sized Newfoundland dog, was assigned to him, and a most ludicrous sight it was as the party made its start up the hill.
A gentleman six feet in height, with very long legs and a remarkably protuberant abdomen, arrayed in a very ill-fitting coat, light trowsers, a tall hat, and enormous spectacles, with an immense cotton umbrella under one arm, is not a sight to inspire respect, even when it is traveling as infantry.
But take that figure and put it astride of a donkey so small that the rider’s legs have to be drawn up to keep the feet off the ground, and have that donkey a perverse and mischievous animal (most of them answer to this description), and it is about as ludicrous a sight as was ever vouchsafed to mortal ken.
Each donkey is led or driven, as the case may be, by a boy, and the German boy has all the elements of mischief in him that any other boy possesses. And so when this especial boy saw that the entire party were laughing at the Professor, he wisely determined to gain popularity by adding to the merriment. And so he would wink at the people following, and twist the donkey’s tail, and the intelligent animal, knowing what was expected of him, would kick up his heels, and the Professor, one hand busy with the bridle and the other with the umbrella under his arm, would objurgate as much as a Professor dared.
