Your chronometer heart, on
whose pulsations you can reckon as on the procession of the
equinoxes, never gave anything to the world unless it were a system
of diet, or something quite uncoloured and unglorified by the
imagination.
Chapter XX. A canticle to Jane.
There are many donkeys owned in these nooks among the hills, and
some of the thriftier families keep donkey-chairs (or 'cheers,' as
they call them) to let to the casual summer visitor. This vehicle
is a regular Bath chair, into which the donkey is harnessed. Some
of them have a tiny driver's seat, where a small lad sits beating
and berating the donkey for the incumbent, generally a decrepit
dowager from London. Other chairs are minus this absurd coachman's
perch, and in this sort I take my daily drives. I hire the
miniature chariot from an old woman who dwells at the top of Gorse
Hill, and who charges one and fourpence the hour, It is a little
more when she fetches the donkey to the door, or when the weather is
wet or the day is very warm, or there is an unusual breeze blowing,
or I wish to go round the hills; but under ordinary circumstances,
which may at any time occur, but which never do, one and four the
hour. It is only a shilling, if you have the boy to drive you; but,
of course, if you drive yourself, you throw the boy out of
employment, and have to pay extra.
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