He was eating the stem of an artichoke as this discourse went on, and in the little peevish contentions of nature betwixt hunger and unsavouriness, had dropt it out of his mouth half a dozen times, and pick'd it up again ----God help thee, _Jack!_ said I, thou hast a bitter breakfast on't--and many a bitter day's labour, --and many a bitter blow, I fear, for its wages----'tis all--all bitterness to thee, whatever life is to others. ----And now thy mouth, if one knew the truth of it, is as bitter, I dare say, as soot--(for he had cast aside the stem) and thou hast not a friend perhaps in all this world, that will give thee a macaroon. ----In saying this, I pull'd out a paper of 'em, which I had just purchased, and gave him one--and at this moment that I am telling it, my heart smites me, that there was more of pleasantry in the conceit, of seeing _how_ an ass would eat a macaroon----than of benevolence in giving him one, which presided in the act.
When the ass had eaten his macaroon, I press'd him to come in--the poor beast was heavy loaded----his legs seem'd to tremble under him----he hung rather backwards, and as I pull'd at his halter, it broke short in my hand----he look'd up pensive in my face-- "Don't thrash me with it--but if you will, you may" ----If I do, said I, I'll be d----d.
The word was but one-half of it pronounced, like the abbess of _Andoillets'_--(so there was no sin in it)--when a person coming in, let fall a thundering bastinado upon the poor devil's crupper, which put an end to the ceremony.
_Out upon it!_
cried I----but the interjection was equivocal----and, I think, wrong placed too--for the end of an osier which had started out from the contexture of the ass's pannier, had caught hold of my breeches pocket, as he rush'd by me, and rent it in the most disastrous direction you can imagine----so that the
_Out upon it!_ in my opinion, should have come in here----but this I leave to be settled by
THE REVIEWERS OF MY BREECHES,
which I have brought over along with me for that purpose.
He was eating the stem of an artichoke as this went on, and had dropped it out of his mouth half a dozen times, and picked it up again.
'God help thee, Jack!' said I, 'thou hast a bitter breakfast - and a bitter day's labour, and many a bitter blow, I fear, for wages. - And now thy mouth is as bitter, I dare say, as soot' (for he had cast aside the stem) 'and thou hast not a friend in all this world, that will give thee a macaroon.'
In saying this, I pulled out a bag of 'em, which I had just purchased, and gave him one - and my heart smites me, that I did this more to see how an ass would eat a macaroon than out of kindness.
When the ass had eaten his macaroon, I pressed him to come in. The poor beast was heavily loaded - his legs seemed to tremble - and as I pulled at his halter, it broke in my hand. He looked up pensive as if to say, 'Don't thrash me with it.'
'If I do,' said I, 'I'll be d__d.' The word was but half pronounced, like the abbess of Andoillets's (so there was no sin in it) - when a person coming in, let fall a thundering blow upon the poor devil's crupper.
'Out upon it!' cried I - but the interjection was equivocal - for the end of an willow branch in the ass's pannier had caught hold of my breeches pocket as he rushed past me, and rent it in the most disastrous direction you can imagine - so that the
'Out upon it!' in my opinion, should have come here.
But this I leave to be settled by
THE
REVIEWERS
OF
MY BREECHES,
which I have brought along with me for that purpose.