Forward, not permanent; sweet, not lasting;
The perfume and suppliance of a minute,
No more."
say, "If I were you I would not have quite so—so many, dear; there will be such a row when papa comes!" Alice laughs, blushes, and is about to answer when mother comes in, and no more is said.
We go out donkey riding this afternoon, everybody except Jack, who is too proud. A small drove of asses has been chartered for the occasion, and at the appointed hour they stand at the door meek and stubborn, each provided with a small boy, whose duty it is to "whip up" the aforesaid beast and make it "go." Amberley's charger staggers ominously as she mounts him; and, when seated, her long legs touch the ground, but she would rather die than be left behind, or prove unequal to the emergency, so she hitches them up and leads the van with some dignity, and, I think, much discomfort. Alice has the best beast; it has a broad back and a fat body, and she sits on it at her ease, shaded by her cool straw hat, under which her face takes no yellow reflections as does mine, looking as the queen of Sheba may have looked in her young and palmy days. Mother has insisted on our taking two or three of the fry, strong-backed, stout-limbed boys, of whom there is an endless succession after Dolly, so we make a goodly cavalcade as we jog away with our attendant gamins.
Now there are few things pleasanter than to idle along the Devonshire lanes in summer time on a well-grown, broad-backed, peaceable donkey; one is not at the trouble of walking, nor yet at the trouble of riding; one can just amble along at leisure, enjoying the air, the sky, and the light that quivers on the path through boughs that meet coolly overhead There is a dreamy sensation of utter rest as one wanders in and out of the tangle of lanes that
