ron nails and bars
for the blacksmith, two or three bags of potatoes, a sack of flour, a
bottle or two of vinegar, a great jar of treacle, a bale of calico for
one of the shops, a cask of porter, and a sight of odds and ends
besides. And they was packed and jammed so tight together, I could see
as they were like to burst the sides of the cart through. `Timothy,'
says I, `you'll never get on with that load; it's too much for the
donkey, and it's too much for the cart.' `All right,' says he, `we'll
manage.' `Nay,' says I, `it's too much for the poor beast; make two
journeys of it, and you'll do it comfortably.' `Can't afford the time,'
says he. But he _could_ afford the time to keep the poor donkey often
standing before the door of the public for an hour and more together.
But just then he'd had an extra glass, and he wasn't in a mood to be
spoken with. So he gives the poor beast a fierce kick, and a pull at
his jaw, by way of freshening him up, and the cart goes creaking on up a
hill by a winding road. I could hear it as I went on by a footpath as
took me a short cut into the road again. Then the noise stopped all of
a sudden; and when I'd got to the end of the path, there was Timothy
Pinches looking anything but wise or pleasant, and cart and donkey had
both come to grief. The side of the cart was burst right out; the
donkey had fallen down and cut his knees badly; the potatoes was rolling
down the hill; the flour had some of it come out of the sack in a great
heap, and the vinegar and treacle was running slowly through it. When I
looked at poor Timothy's face, and then at the break-down, I couldn't
help laughing at him; but I gave him a helping hand, and I hope he
learnt a useful lesson. You see, sir, it don't do to overtask a willing
beast, nor to load a cart with more goods than it's meant to carry,
specially if it ain't over strong. But they're making this very mistake
with many of the young ladies just now--I don't mean anything
disrespectful to them in likening them to a donkey-cart, but it's true.
These young ladies themselves are overtasking their constitutions which
God gave them, and they're loading their brains with more than them
brains was designed to carry. The Lord hasn't given them, as a rule,
heads fit to bear the strain as men's heads were made to stand. I'm
sure of it; it's the opinion, too, of Dr Richardson, who has the best
right of any man, perhaps, to speak on this subject, as he's st