Some years ago, an ass was employed at Carisbrook Castle, in the Isle of Wight, in drawing water by a large wheel from a very deep well, supposed to have been sunk by the Romans. When the keeper wanted water, he would say to the ass, “Tom, my boy, I want water; get into the wheel, my good lad;” which Thomas immediately performed with an alacrity and sagacity that would have done credit to a nobler animal; and no doubt he knew the precise number of times necessary for the wheel to revolve upon its axis, to complete his labour, because every time he brought the bucket to the surface of the well, he constantly stopped and turned round his honest head to observe the moment when his master laid hold of the bucket to draw it towards him, because he had then a nice evolution to make, either to recede or to advance a little. It was pleasing to observe with what steadiness and regularity the poor animal performed his labour.