She was patient,
elegant in form, the colour of an ideal mouse, and inimitably small. Her
faults were those of her race and sex; her virtues were her own.
Farewell, and if for ever -
Father Adam wept when he sold her to me; after I had sold her in my turn,
I was tempted to follow his example; and being alone with a stage-driver
and four or five agreeable young men, I did not hesitate to yield to my
emotion.
*** END OF Travels with a Donkey in the Cevennes, by Robert Louis Stevenson ***
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