On A Donkey's Hurricane Deck Part 3

Upon arriving at that university city I was pleased to find the inhabitants not quite so slow as the appearance of the place would indicate. The city has of late years become the Henley of America.

It is the seat of Eastman's business college, as well as a very progressive college for girls--Va.s.sar. The residents generally drop three letters in spelling the name of their proud city, and make it Po'keepsie. There were four good points I liked about the place, and that was one of them; the other three were, the Mayor, the Va.s.sar girls, and a newspaper reporter who, for a consideration, engaged Mac and me to appear at the theatre in an amateur play.

It was to be a new stage in our travels. The urchin who led the donkey about the streets proudly bore in one hand a standard inscribed: "KEEP YOUR EYES ON THE DONKEY;" and those who obeyed saw printed on a canvas blanket gracefully draped over Mac's back the startling announcement: "WILL APPEAR TO-NIGHT IN HOGAN'S ALLEY, AT KIRCHNER'S HALL." I believe Mac paraded the city utterly oblivious of the interest he created.

I had promised to have my donkey at the Hall at five sharp. There were two staircases for him to climb, and I had not contemplated the enormity of the task before me. We tugged on his halter; we set three dogs barking at his heels; but the only time he stirred was when he removed the dogs. He just braced himself well against the curb, and brayed until he had called the audience to the show two hours ahead of time. After a while two strong policemen took a hand with me in a three-handed game, and turned over a jack.

Finally, four more men a.s.sisting, the beast was carried upstairs and into the theatre, where he was forced to walk a plank on to the stage. Then I fed and watered him, and combing his fur the right way, left him to the melancholy contemplation of his position.

When we returned an hour later, he was still as immovable as a statue. The stage manager directed me to ride the donkey out from behind the scenery at a given signal; so I began to practice with him. I cannot describe all that happened the next hour. By seven o'clock Mac was fairly broken, and everything looked promising.

The house was crowded; only a portion of the attendance of the fair held in connection with the play, down stairs, could find seats; and the performance was to be repeated. One part of the play, however, not on the program, could not be reproduced.

Apparently no attempts had ever been made to convert Mac to religion, for when the Salvation Army entered the scene, banging drums and clas.h.i.+ng cymbals, the terrified jack began to back toward the footlights. The stage manager, fearing lest the beast might back off the stage, dropped the curtain. But that didn't check Mac; he backed against the curtain and under it, and dropped plumb into the audience, making five "laps" in a second, his best time to date. One fat man, over-burdened, crashed through his chair. Fortunately n.o.body was seriously injured, but several had spasms, and more than one girl crawled over the backs of the seats in terror. "Such doings," as a paper stated next day, "were never known before in this town in the annals of donkeys--four-legged or two-legged either."

As soon as the excitement was over, Mac was a.s.sisted on to the stage, and the play was twice repeated, all three performances before crowded houses.

While returning Mac to his stable I heard the bray of a donkey, and resolved next day to look him up. Then I sent a message to a young lady friend at Va.s.sar, and wrote my weekly story for the papers.

I frequently refer to my Va.s.sar friends, but I doubt if they ever mention me. I had written one that I would polish two dozen pairs of Va.s.sar shoes at the rate of fifty cents a pair, either on, or off. Allowing me two minutes for each pair and half a minute for making change, I believed I could polish to the queen's taste some forty-eight pairs in two hours. My proposal was accepted. The hour set was 5:00 A. M., while the teachers would be dreaming about the binomial formula, blue light, and turnips. And I was expected to polish the shoes on the foot.

Accordingly, I was aroused from slumber at four, and practiced on the stove legs for a full half-hour, to get polis.h.i.+ng down to a science. Then I took the trolley car to the hedge fence, stole in through the stately gate, and took the time of the huge clock above the entrance. Then I took my own time. I had four minutes to spare, and knew Va.s.sar girls were anything but slow.

"The days of chivalry are not gone," says George Eliot, "notwithstanding Burke's grand dirge over them; they live still in that far-off wors.h.i.+p paid by many a youth and man to the woman of whom he never dreams that he shall touch so much as her little finger or the hem of her robe." I had no sooner placed my chair at the right marble staircase than I heard the rustle of skirts, immediately followed by a bevy of charming girls stealing down the steps on tip-toe, all a-giggle and a-smile, balancing their supple forms with outstretched arms, and enlivening the early dawn with the mischief beaming from their eyes. "Good morning," they said, as each in turn shook hands with me. I was inspired to hug every one of them, but dared not show the lack of polish.

Raising my hat, I said softly, "s.h.i.+ne," and number one mounted the throne, soon to be "daubed" a queen. Bless me! wasn't she pretty!

As she gaily lifted her skirts to give my brushes a free swing, a perfect pair of ankles burst into view, daintily imprisoned in black silk hose, and--well, I naturally was excited. Blacking flew like the mud did when the beer wagon b.u.mped against Mac, and a brush flopped out of my hand through a colored window, letting in more light, for it was still quite dusky. It seemed to be impossible for the young lady to keep her feet in place on the block, and not until she suggested I should hold her boot in place did I begin to polish to my credit. After that no girl could keep her feet stationary unless I held her foot with one hand and polished with the other. "Next," and another winsome creature took the chair, and poured fifty pennies into my hand. I took it for granted that she was some copper king's daughter.

I worked so hard that I was soon perspiring. After finis.h.i.+ng a dozen pair, when about to polish the second shoe on number thirteen, someone claimed she heard a professor reading Volapuk.

At once there was a scurry, and a rustle of skirts. Number thirteen kicked over the blacking accidental, and fled with one shoe unpolished; but that odd shoe did just as good service as any of the rest. The whole bevy of girls vanished before I had time to collect my senses, my chair, and my brushes, and chase myself away. When once started, I ran to beat the cars, and reached the hotel in time for breakfast, the richer by six dollars and a lace handkerchief.

Come to think of it, what an extr'ordinary adventure that was for a modest and dignified traveler with a donkey! I wondered, as I sipped my coffee, what the Princ.i.p.al said when she discovered so many neat-looking shoes.

CHAPTER IV.

Shame on the world! said I to myself. Did we but love each other as this poor soul loved his a.s.s, 'twould be something.

--_Sentimental Journey_--_Stearne._

An empty heart is like an empty barrel conveniently located; n.o.body will dare to gamble on the first thing to be thrown into it: and a full heart, like a barrel of fruit, must be sorted frequently, lest a bit of blemish corrupt the whole.

My heart was as full of Macaroni from New York to Po'keepsie as my stomach once had been from Milan to Naples. I first fancied my donkey, next admired him, suddenly became conscious of a growing contempt for him, and finally pity, now that the time for parting with him had come. Having depended entirely upon the stupid beast for companions.h.i.+p, he really had become a pet. Often he had offended and vexed me beyond seeming pardon; on the other hand, he had afforded me amus.e.m.e.nt during my lonesome hours, often causing me to laugh outright at his antics. But, in order to complete my journey on time, I felt I must avail myself of the first opportunity to exchange him for a livelier steed. It was my Va.s.sar friend who told me about Dr. Jackson and his precocious donkey; she claimed the animal often displayed human intelligence.

With some difficulty I found the doctor's residence; when, introducing myself and acquainting him with my errand, he put on his hat and took me to the barn. Behold! the cutest little donkey I ever saw. He was a sleek, slender creature of blush color, with an intelligent but roguish countenance, and with cropped ears which gave him a semblance to a deer. The doctor said the animal was hardly three years old. His hoofs were very small, so tiny that he might have stepped into an after-dinner cup and not damaged more than your appet.i.te for coffee.

"What do you call the little fellow?" I asked.

"Mac A'Rony," said the doctor.

The coincidence made me smile. "That, too, is my donkey's name," I declared, somewhat to his astonishment. He then spelled his animal's name, showing that there was as much difference between the names as between the donkeys, between patrician and plebeian.

He said that Mac A'Rony was the lineal descendant of an ancient and honorable family of Irish a.s.ses; whereas, I believed Macaroni could boast of no more distinguished heritage than that of Italian peasantry. The doctor even harbored the suspicion that his donkey must be a descendant of Balaam's famous a.s.s.

"His bluish coat is a reflection of the blue blood in his veins,"

observed the doctor; and I was made to feel of the same opinion.

I coveted that donkey, but had little hope of securing it, as my means were so limited. Imagine my astonishment when the doctor proposed that we make an even exchange of animals.

"If your overland journey continues to be as notable as it is thus far," said he, "I should like to possess the first donkey you used."

I dared not believe my ears.

"But you have not seen my donkey," I reminded him.

"I will accept your representation of the animal," he replied. The bargain made, we parted. An hour later Macaroni was in the doctor's barn, and Mac A'Rony in the livery stable. The greatest objection I had to my new companion was his youth. The fastidious appet.i.te of this Irish gentleman demanded bread, and other table fare; he actually stuck up his nose at oats and hay. What would he do should we get stranded! I might live a whole day on three milk punches which I could pay for with photos, but experience had taught me it required many punches to keep a donkey moving.

When about to depart, I was disconcerted to discover the doctor's boy riding his new possession down the street toward the hotel.

Macaroni seemed to realize we were to part forever. There was a sad, depressed look in his eyes; his brows knitted, and his nose wept, as he brayed "When shall we three meet again." I felt a pang in my heart, and turning my eyes from him, headed Mac A'Rony for the West.

Shortly afterward, I was stopped by a blacksmith who recognized Mac and asked to shoe him, saying he would do it for a picture, seeing it was I. Of course, I was delighted, and leaving the donkey in his custody, dropped in a restaurant and lunched; after which I bought Mac a loaf of graham bread.

The kind-hearted blacksmith had several horses waiting to be shod, and it was nearly night when Mac A'Rony ceased to be a "bare-foot boy." I remained in Po'keepsie over night, and early next day, Friday, set out for Kingston. But that quadruped traveled so fast that he tired out after going a few miles, and I had to put up at a little inn at Staatsburg for the night. Had it not been that I sold next day a number of photos at princely villas on the way, I should have had trouble to keep from starving. No remittance had come from the papers as yet, and lecturing was out of the question at that time. I had written to several soap, sarsaparilla, tobacco and pill companies for a contract to advertise their stuffs by distributing circulars, or samples, or displaying a sign from my donkey's back, but thus far had received no favorable replies.

At length the blue summits of the Catskills loomed against an azure sky in the west, and I caught occasional glimpses of Kingston and Rondout, the twin cities, nestling in the foothills by the Hudson.

At three o'clock we crossed the ferry, and soon afterward arrived at the Mansion House, Kingston. The landlord received us with gracious hospitality, but I, having lost so much time by accident and other misfortune, only tarried for the night, and hastened on up the valley.

The days were perceptibly shorter while we traveled in the shadow of the Catskills. The roads were so heavy, and the recent cold I had contracted so stiff and uncomfortable, that I decided at seven o'clock to spend the night at a German road-house. Landlord Schoentag gave us soft beds, in spite of his hard name, and his spouse was kind enough to make me a hot brandy and a foot bath. I drank the one; Mac cheated me of the other. I retired early under a pile of bedding as thick as it was short, and soon found myself in a terrible sweat. This was not due alone to the comfortables, but to a party of convivial young people, who thrummed on a discordant piano, and sang, and danced till daylight, their hilarity causing Mac in the stable sundry vocal selections, such as should have disturbed the spirit of Rip Van Winkle, eight miles away.

Monday we pushed on toward Saugerties. But for a delay at Soaper's Creek Bridge, we should have reached Catskill before dark. Mac A'Rony stopped stock still at the bridge approach, and neither the eloquence of gad nor gab moved him an inch. I petted him and patted him; I stroked his ears and I rubbed his nose; and then I asked him point blank what ailed him.

"You big fool, can't you see that sign up there?" he retorted, as he eyed me squarely. It was fully sixty seconds before I realized that the animal had actually spoken; then I looked up and read the sign hanging from the iron girder overhead, "Ten dollars fine for riding or driving over this bridge faster than a walk." I must say I greatly appreciated Mac's consideration for my pocket-book, but his obduracy struck me as being not a little absurd, since he had not yet demonstrated to me that he could go faster than a walk, even on a level and unimpeded road. All I could do was to sit down on a stone and, like Macawber, wait for something to turn up. It seemed ages before a farmer came along with a ton of hay; he was kind enough to slide off the load and a.s.sist me to carry the donkey across the bridge.

The night was spent in Catskill. Smith's Hotel was swarming with busy grangers, generally good-hearted, garrulous characters, whose society lightened the tedium of two days, while I nursed my cold and weaned Mac. We reached Athens, a village eight miles to the north, Wednesday noon, but being somewhat rusty in Greek, I ferried the river to Hudson. A light snow had fallen; the wind was sharp shod, and traveled forty miles an hour.

A small German hotel opened its doors to us, and I persuaded Mac to ascend the low stoop and venture half his length indoors; the landlord aided me at the helm and we managed to anchor my "craft"

out of range of the storm, though we couldn't get it across the bar. Mac lay down in a heap, and I called for port, to find none in stock. Suddenly, a man in s.h.i.+rt sleeves hastily entered with a pitcher in hand, and before he could check himself, went sprawling over the frightened beast, smas.h.i.+ng the pitcher and setting Mac to braying. The man hurriedly collected himself, glanced at the strange-looking quadruped, and not stopping for beer, fled in dismay. When the storm had abated somewhat, we started for Kinderhook.

Late in the afternoon we trailed into a thrifty little town where I found stock port in Stockport. Here the cheery aspect of the Brookside Hotel tempted me to remain over night, and doctor the severe cold in my chest. This tavern, the pride of the village, was said to be the oldest on the old "post road" from New York to Albany. So comfortable was the hotel that I hesitated long before accepting a cordial invitation, extended to me through his coachman, to be the guest of the wealthiest resident of the town.

I was driven over to the home of Mr. Van ----, and the affable gentleman introduced me to his family, before driving me to his father's residence. The old gentleman was enthusiastic in his reception of the donkey traveler, and after doping me with some delicious cider, reluctantly allowed his son to keep me for the night.

After a month of "roughing it," my happy affiliation with those refined and cultured people acted like a healing balm to my wearied heart. Many and many a time thereafter on the tiresome, lonesome trail did my memory recall that pleasant evening. The daughters entertained me with music and song, the parents brought out refreshments, and, at last, with a hot foot-bath, and a hotter mustard leaf on my chest, I retired.

Next morning, Georgie, the little son, rushed into my chamber calling, "Get up, you people, the pancakes are getting cold!"

"All right," I answered meekly.

"Oh!" the little fellow gasped with astonishment, as he beheld Pod tucked neck-deep in eider-down. "I--I--I thought you was the girls."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "_We consumed a half hour in the gigantic task._"]