somewhat incongruous, companion in the shape of "Ninette," a little white
donkey which was purchased at Grasse by Her Majesty, and presented to the
Princess Victoria of Connaught, for whose use it is now being broken in.
Directly the donkey is taken out of the stable for educational purposes,
the charger becomes restless and unhappy, races round the paddock attached
to his loose box in evident distress, and refuses to be comforted until
his beautiful little companion returns. Then he playfully nibbles her
back, joyfully flings up his heels, and careers wildly round the paddock,
neighing shrilly as he goes, his long tail floating in the breeze. What
will happen when "Ninette" leaves her companion it is difficult to say. At
present she takes little notice of this exuberant display of affection,
beyond running beneath the charger's belly, and playfully trying to plant
her tiny heels in his lofty side. When they have been twice round the
paddock, "Ninette" plodding gamely on, a long way in the rear, the couple
halt at the shed entrance, and look at us with exuberant curiosity, the
donkey's long ears shooting backwards and forwards with great rapidity.

After inspecting this somewhat incongruous couple, we are taken to another
stable to see "Jenny," a white donkey, twenty-five years old. "Jenny"
belongs to the Queen, and was bred at Virginia Water. Her Majesty saw
"Jenny" when she was a foal, had her brought to Windsor and trained, and
there the docile old animal has remained ever since. She is pure white in
colour, with large, light, expressive grey eyes. One peculiarity about her
is an enormous flat back, soft and almost as wide as a moderate-sized
feather bed. A handsome chestnut foal is temporarily quartered with her.
This foal was bred from a mare belonging to the late Mr. John Brown, and
promises to grow into a very beautiful animal.

[Illustration: "JENNY."]

"Jenny," although rather reserved, affably condescends to partake of a
biscuit, pensively twitching her long ears after us as we depart along
the road leading to the Royal dairy. As we leave the trimly built and
picturesque outbuildings there is a brave burst of sunshine; chaffinches
"chink-chink" in the trees around, producing a sharp, clear sound as if
two pebbles were struck against each other; rooks sail majestically
overhead, their sentinels, posted in the trees around, giving notice of
our approach; and the pale petals of a rathe primrose gleam shyly out f