“Come, I say, jest drop that ’ere?” said a voice. I looked up. It was Jack’s master. “And this is thy tyrant, then!” I thought to myself. “Thine must be a hard lot, with one so suspicious of his kind—so devoid of sentiment.” But I said nothing, and replaced the fish.
Just at this moment the tide of traffic was broken for an instant, and the ass’s master hastened to take advantage of it. “Kim up!” said he to Jack; and before the poor animal could obey him, he seized him by the head and dragged him along, dealing him at the same time a score of heavy blows with a thick stick that he carried in his right hand.
I could have found it in my heart to have given the rascal a sound drubbing for his pains. But I refrained. I protest I am too soft-hearted. I feared I might by chance hurt him, or he me.
“Farewell, Honesty!” said I, as Jack shambled off with his load. And then I knew not what tender emotion stirred me, but I felt a tear trickling down my cheek. “Farewell, Honesty!” said I again, as I put my hand into my pocket for my kerchief.
It was gone!——
CHAPTER III.
I have come to the conclusion that ’tis not the best way to get through a story to begin at the end.
’Tis an unprofitable way at best, and tends to lead one into digressions.
Now, digressions will be the ruin of me in this world and the next. I shall be so beset with digressions I shall never reach my destination.
’Tis a very butterfly-like temptation. Here was I set down to write you out my journey, and I’ve not got three steps from the bottom of Ludgate-hill.