Macmillan's Reading Books. Book V — John Stuart Mill — John Shaqi
Macmillan's Reading Books. Book V
John Stuart Mill · en
"And this," said he, putting the remains of a crust into his wallet,
"and this should have been thy portion," said he, "hadst thou been alive
to have shared it with me." I thought by the accent it had been an
apostrophe to his child; but 'twas to his ass, and to the very ass we
had seen dead on the road. The man seemed to lament it much; and it
instantly brought into my mind Sancho's lamentation for his; but he did
it with more true touches of nature.
The mourner was sitting on a stone bench at the door, with the ass's
pannel and its bridle on one side, which he took up from time to
time--then laid them down--looked at them--and shook his head. He then
took his crust of bread out of his wallet again, as if to eat it;
held it some time in his hand--then laid it upon the bit of his ass's
bridle--looked wistfully at the little arrangement he had made--and then
gave a sigh.
The simplicity of his grief drew numbers about him, and La Fleur among
the rest, whilst the horses were getting ready; as I continued sitting
in the postchaise, I could see and hear over their heads.
He said he had come last from Spain, where he had been from the farthest
borders of Franconia; and he had got so far on his return home, when his
ass died. Every one seemed desirous to know what business could have
taken so old and poor a man so far a journey from his own home.
"It had pleased heaven," he said, "to bless him with three sons, the
finest lads in all Germany; but having in one week lost two of them by
the small-pox, and the youngest falling ill of the same distemper, he
was afraid of being bereft of them all; and made a vow, if Heaven would
not take him from him also, he would go in gratitude to St. Iago, in
Spain."
When the mourner got thus far on his story, he stopped to pay nature her
tribute, and wept bitterly.
He said Heaven had accepted the conditions, and that he had set out from
his cottage, with this poor creature, who had been a patient partner of
his journey--that it had eat the same bread with him all the way, and
was unto him as a friend.
Everybody who stood about heard the poor fellow with concern. La Fleur
offered him money; the mourner said he did not want it; it was not the
value of the ass, but the loss of him. "The ass," he said, "he was
assured, loved him;" and upon this, told them a long story of a
mischance upon their passage over the Pyrenean mountains, which had
separated them from each other three days; during which time the ass had
sought him as much as he had sought the ass, and they had neither scarce
eat or drank till they met.