“How shall we go?” inquired the captain; “it's too warm to walk.”
“A shay?” suggested Mr. Joseph Tuggs.
“Chaise,” whispered Mr. Cymon.
“I should think one would be enough,” said Mr. Joseph Tuggs aloud, quite unconscious of the meaning of the correction. “However, two shays if you like.”
“I should like a donkey SO much,” said Belinda.
“Oh, so should I!” echoed Charlotta Tuggs.
“Well, we can have a fly,” suggested the captain, “and you can have a couple of donkeys.”
A fresh difficulty arose. Mrs. Captain Waters declared it would be decidedly improper for two ladies to ride alone. The remedy was obvious. Perhaps young Mr. Tuggs would be gallant enough to accompany them.
Mr. Cymon Tuggs blushed, smiled, looked vacant, and faintly protested that he was no horseman. The objection was at once overruled. A fly was speedily found; and three donkeys—which the proprietor declared on his solemn asseveration to be “three parts blood, and the other corn”—were engaged in the service.
“Kim up!” shouted one of the two boys who followed behind, to propel the donkeys, when Belinda Waters and Charlotta Tuggs had been hoisted, and pushed, and pulled, into their respective saddles.
“Hi—hi—hi!” groaned the other boy behind Mr. Cymon Tuggs. Away went the donkey, with the stirrups jingling against the heels of Cymon's boots, and Cymon's boots nearly scraping the ground.
“Way—way! Wo—o—o –!” cried Mr. Cymon Tuggs as well as he could, in the midst of the jolting.
“Don't make it gallop!” screamed Mrs. Captain Waters, behind.
“My donkey WILL go into the public-house!” shrieked Miss Tuggs in the rear.
“Hi—hi—hi!” groaned both the boys together; and on went the donkeys as if nothing would ever stop them.
Everything has an end, however; even the galloping of donkeys will cease in time. The animal which Mr. Cymon Tuggs bestrode, feeling sundry uncomfortable tugs at the bit, the intent of which he could by no means divine, abruptly sidled against a brick wall, and expressed his uneasiness by grinding Mr. Cymon Tuggs's leg on the rough surface. Mrs. Captain Waters's donkey, apparently under the influence of some playfulness of spirit, rushed suddenly, head first, into a hedge, and declined to come out again: and the quadruped on which Miss Tuggs was mounted, expressed his delight at this humorous proceeding by firmly planting his fore-feet against the ground, and kicking up his hind-legs in a very agile, but somewhat alarming manner.
This abrupt termination to the rapidity of the ride, naturally occasioned some confusion. Both the ladies indulged in vehement screaming for several minutes; and Mr. Cymon Tuggs, besides sustaining intense bodily pain, had the additional mental anguish of witnessing their distressing situation, without having the power to rescue them, by reason of his leg being firmly screwed in between the animal and the wall. The efforts of the boys, however, assisted by the ingenious expedient of twisting the tail of the most rebellious donkey, restored order in a much shorter time than could have reasonably been expected, and the little party jogged slowly on together.
“Now let “em walk,” said Mr. Cymon Tuggs. “It's cruel to overdrive “em.”
“Werry well, sir,” replied the boy, with a grin at his companion, as if he understood Mr. Cymon to mean that the cruelty applied less to the animals than to their riders.
“What a lovely day, dear!” said Charlotta.
“Charming; enchanting, dear!” responded Mrs. Captain Waters.
“What a beautiful prospect, Mr. Tuggs!”
Cymon looked full in Belinda's face, as he responded—“Beautiful, indeed!” The lady cast down her eyes, and suffered the animal she was riding to fall a little back. Cymon Tuggs instinctively did the same.
There was a brief silence, broken only by a sigh from Mr. Cymon Tuggs.
“Mr. Cymon,” said the lady suddenly, in a low tone, “Mr. Cymon—I am another's.”
Mr. Cymon expressed his perfect concurrence in a statement which it was impossible to controvert.
“If I had not been—” resumed Belinda; and there she stopped.
“What—what?” said Mr. Cymon earnestly. “Do not torture me. What would you say?”
“If I had not been”—continued Mrs. Captain Waters—“if, in earlier life, it had been my fate to have known, and been beloved by, a noble youth—a kindred soul—a congenial spirit—one capable of feeling and appreciating the sentiments which—”
“Heavens! what do I hear?” exclaimed Mr. Cymon Tuggs. “Is it possible! can I believe my—Come up!” (This last unsentimental parenthesis was addressed to the donkey, who, with his head between his fore-legs, appeared to be examining the state of his shoes with great anxiety.)
“Hi—hi—hi,” said the boys behind. “Come up,” expostulated Cymon Tuggs again. “Hi—hi—hi,” repeated the boys. And whether it was that the animal felt indignant at the tone of Mr. Tuggs's command, or felt alarmed by the noise of the deputy proprietor's boots running behind him; or whether he burned with a noble emulation to outstrip the other donkeys; certain it is that he no sooner heard the second series of “hi—hi's,” than he started away, with a celerity of pace which jerked Mr. Cymon's hat off, instantaneously, and carried him to the Pegwell Bay hotel in no time, where he deposited his rider without giving him the trouble of dismounting, by sagaciously pitching him over his head, into the very doorway of the tavern.
Great was the confusion of Mr. Cymon Tuggs, when he was put right end uppermost, by two waiters; considerable was the alarm of Mrs. Tuggs in behalf of her son; agonizing were the apprehensions of Mrs. Captain Waters on his account. It was speedily discovered, however, that he had not sustained much more injury than the donkey—he was grazed, and the animal was grazing—and then it WAS a delightful party to be sure! Mr. and Mrs. Tuggs, and the captain, had ordered lunch in the little garden behind:—small saucers of large shrimps, dabs of butter, crusty loaves, and bottled ale. The sky was without a cloud; there were flower-pots and turf before them; the sea, from the foot of the cliff, stretching away as far as the eye could discern anything at all; vessels in the distance with sails as white, and as small, as nicely-got-up cambric handkerchiefs. The shrimps were delightful, the ale better, and the captain even more pleasant than either. Mrs. Captain Waters was in SUCH spirits after lunch!— chasing, first the captain across the turf, and among the flower-pots; and then Mr. Cymon Tuggs; and then Miss Tuggs; and laughing, too, quite boisterously. But as the captain said, it didn't matter; who knew what they were, there? For all the people of the house knew, they might be common people. To which Mr. Joseph Tuggs responded, “To be sure.” And then they went down the steep wooden steps a little further on, which led to the bottom of the cliff; and looked at the crabs, and the seaweed, and the eels, till it was more than fully time to go back to Ramsgate again. Finally, Mr. Cymon Tuggs ascended the steps last, and Mrs. Captain Waters last but one; and Mr. Cymon Tuggs discovered that the foot and ankle of Mrs. Captain Waters, were even more unexceptionable than he had at first supposed.
Taking a donkey towards his ordinary place of residence, is a very different thing, and a feat much more easily to be accomplished, than taking him from it. It requires a great deal of foresight and presence of mind in the one case, to anticipate the numerous flights of his discursive imagination; whereas, in the other, all you have to do, is, to hold on, and place a blind confidence in the animal. Mr. Cymon Tuggs adopted the latter expedient on his return; and his nerves were so little discomposed by the journey, that he distinctly understood they were all to meet again at the library in the evening.
The library was crowded. There were the same ladies, and the same gentlemen, who had been on the sands in the morning, and on the pier the day before. There were young ladies, in maroon-coloured gowns and black velvet bracelets, dispensing fancy articles in the shop, and presiding over games of chance in the concert-room. There were marriageable daughters, and marriage-making mammas, gaming and promenading, and turning over music, and flirting. There were some male beaux doing the sentimental in whispers, and others doing the ferocious in moustache. There were Mrs. Tuggs in amber, Miss Tuggs in sky-blue, Mrs. Captain Waters in pink. There was Captain Waters in a braided surtout; there was Mr. Cymon Tuggs in pumps and a gilt waistcoat; there was Mr. Joseph Tuggs in a blue coat and a shirt-frill.
“Numbers three, eight, and eleven!” cried one of the young ladies in the maroon-coloured gowns.
“Numbers three, eight, and eleven!” echoed another young lady in the same uniform.
“Number three's gone,” said the first young lady. “Numbers eight and eleven!”
“Numbers eight and eleven!” echoed the second young lady.
“Number eight's gone, Mary Ann,” said the first young lady.
“Number eleven!” screamed the second.
“The numbers are all taken now, ladies, if you please,” said the first. The representatives of numbers three,
