Minnie's Pet Dog Part 3

"Soon after this, Mr. Simpson was obliged to leave his country residence on account of his children's education, and remove into Edinburgh.

Speaking one day to a friend, he said, 'I regret extremely that I shall be obliged to part with my faithful dog, as he is too large to be kept in a city house.'

"The animal was present, and heard him say this, and must have understood what was meant, for he disappeared that very evening, and was never afterwards heard from."

Minnie was silent a few minutes when her cousin ceased reading, and then said, half crying,--

"I'm afraid Leo will go away, for I told him I did not love him."

Ida gayly approached the window, expecting to see the dog, as usual at this hour, sunning himself in front of the stable; but as she did not, she offered to go and find him. She had scarcely reached the hall when she met him coming up the stairs. He looked wishfully in her face, and then went to Minnie's door, and began to scratch upon it.

Ida opened it, wondering what he wanted, when Leo, with his tail between his legs as if conscious he had done wrong, went directly to the couch, and putting his cold nose into Minnie's hand, asked, as well as he could, to be forgiven for his offence.

"I do love you, Leo," she exclaimed, caressing him; "you're a real good dog; and you won't hurt Jacko again. Poor Jacko!"

On hearing these words, Leo began to wag his tail joyfully, and then, putting his paws on the bed, licked the hand she playfully held out to him.

CHAPTER IV.

THE FAITHFUL DOGS.

"O, cousin Minnie," cried Ida, "here are some beautiful stories. Let me read them to you."

"An English terrier was brought up in a family where there was a little girl, with whom he was a great favorite. For hours together they amused each other, the dog readily yielding obedience to every wish of his little friend. One day, however, when they were at play in the nursery, the mother was startled by a quick snarl from the terrier, expressive of temper and violence.

"Alarmed for her child, she rushed to the dog and drove him angrily away; but after the closest examination, she could find no trace of injury inflicted on the little girl, and she soon, forgot both the outcry and alarm.

"Meantime poor Fido had not ventured from the corner where he had been driven in disgrace, but remained for a long time pensive and quiet in his retreat. At last, when his little playmate began to look round for him, he came slowly forward to the mother of his companion, and sitting directly before her, with a touch of his paw solicited her attention.

"'What is it, Fido?' she asked.

"He rose gently, and placed something on the carpet at her feet.

"It was a pin, which she lifted up and examined, every motion closely watched by the dog. His pleading eye was too obvious to be misunderstood, and by questioning the child, the whole was soon explained. The pin had come in her way, and, in the fun of childhood, she had tried to make a pin-cushion of Fido's nose. The snarl was caused by pain, and the snap following removed the dangerous weapon from unsafe hands.

"The lady patted the dog, calling him 'good Fido,' when he at once turned to his favorite, to a.s.sure her of his forgiveness, and to ask that they might be friends again. And so they were ever after."

"That is a very good story," said Minnie, smiling. "I wish you would read another one as good."

"Here is one," responded Ida, having cast her eye over it, "which is rather sad."

"A gentleman named Llewelyn had a fine hunter, which he called Gelert.

One day, the dog refused to accompany his master to the chase, which made him very angry.

"Gelert always kept sentinel at night at the door of his bedchamber, and, on his return from the chase, Llewelyn met the dog coming from the room, covered with blood. He entered in great haste, alarmed for the safety of his child, when he found the bed overturned, and the coverlet stained with gore. In an agony of apprehension, he called aloud to his boy, but received no answer, and rashly concluded that the babe had been killed by Gelert.

"Without stopping to reflect upon the fondness the animal had always manifested for the child, he ran his sword through the poor creature's body.

"Roused from his slumber by Gelert's dying yell, the infant awoke, when the father, advancing, found to his heart-rending remorse, a gaunt wolf, torn and bleeding, tremendous even in death, lying on the floor near the tender nursling. The faithful dog had seen the wolf prowling about, and, refusing to accompany his master to the chase, of which he was extremely fond, placed himself near the couch of the boy, and in the end saved his life, though, as it proved, at the sacrifice of his own.

"Llewelyn, who never could forgive himself, afterwards built a chapel, and raised a tomb to the memory of his faithful dog, who fell a victim to a momentary pa.s.sion. This tomb is still called Beth-Gelert, or the tomb of Gelert; mult.i.tudes have there heard the account of his bravery and his untimely death."

"How very sorry he must have been!" exclaimed Minnie, tears filling her eyes.

"Read that account of the Stockholm dog," said Mrs. Lee.

"Yes, aunt; but first here is a story of the fidelity of a dog, which is very affecting."

"A French merchant, having some money due from a correspondent, set out on horseback, accompanied by his dog, on purpose to receive it. Having settled the business to his satisfaction, he tied the bag of money before him, and began to return home. His faithful dog, as if he entered into his master's feelings, frisked round the horse, barked, and jumped, and seemed to partic.i.p.ate in his joy.

"After riding some miles, the merchant alighted to repose himself under an agreeable shade, taking the bag of money in his hand, and laying it down by his side under a hedge, when, upon remounting, he unfortunately forgot it.

"The dog perceived his want of recollection, and wishing to rectify it, ran to fetch the bag; but it was too heavy for him to drag along. He then ran to his master, and by crying, barking, and howling, tried to remind him of his mistake.

"Unfortunately, the merchant did not understand his language; but the a.s.siduous creature persevered in his efforts, and after trying to stop the horse in vain, at last began to bite his heels.

"The gentleman, absorbed in some reverie, wholly misunderstood his animal's expostulations, and entertained the alarming apprehension that he had suddenly gone mad. Full of this suspicion, in crossing a brook, he turned back to see whether the dog stopped to drink. The faithful creature was too anxious concerning his master's business to think of it, but continued to bark and bite with greater violence than before.

"'Mercy!' cried the affrighted merchant, 'it must be so? My poor dog is certainly mad. What shall I do? I must kill him, lest some greater misfortune befall me; but with what regret! O, could I find any one to perform this cruel office for me! But there is no time to lose; I myself may become a victim if I spare him.'

"With these words he drew a pistol from his pocket; and with a trembling hand took aim at his faithful servant. He turned away in agony as he fired; but his aim was too sure. The poor animal fell wounded, and weltering in his blood, still endeavored to crawl toward his master, as if to tax him with ingrat.i.tude. The merchant could not bear the sight: he spurred on his horse with a heart full of sorrow, and lamented that he had taken a journey which had cost him so dear. Still the money never entered his mind; he only thought of his poor dog, and tried to console himself with the reflection that he had prevented a greater evil than he had suffered a calamity by despatching a mad animal. But even this thought did not quiet him.

"'I am most unfortunate,' said he to himself; 'I had almost rather have lost my money than my dog.'

"Saying this, he put out his hand to grasp his treasure. It was missing; no bag was to be found. In one instant his eyes were opened to his rashness and folly. 'Wretch that I am!' he cried; 'I alone am to blame.

I could not understand the caution which my innocent and most faithful friend gave me; and I have sacrificed him for his zeal. He only wished to inform me of my mistake; and he has paid for his fidelity with his life!'

"Instantly he turned his horse, and went off at full gallop to the place where he had stopped. He saw with half averted eyes the scene where the tragedy was acted; he perceived the traces of blood as he proceeded; he was oppressed and distracted; but in vain he looked for his dog; he was not to be seen on the road.

"At last he arrived at the spot where he had alighted. But here his heart bled afresh. He was entirely overcome. The poor dog, unable to follow his dear but cruel master, had determined to consecrate his last moments to his service. He had crawled, all b.l.o.o.d.y as he was, to the forgotten bag, and in the agonies of death, he lay watching beside it.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE DOG FAITHFUL TILL DEATH. Page 92.]

"As soon as he saw his master, he testified his joy by wagging his tail.

He could do no more; he tried to rise, but his strength was gone. The vital tide was ebbing fast; and even the caresses of his master could not prolong his life for a few moments. He stretched out his tongue to lick the hand that was now fondling him in the agonies of regret, as if to seal forgiveness of the deed that had deprived him of life. He then cast a look of love on his master, and closed his eyes in death."

CHAPTER V.

CANICHE AND THE TRAVELLER.

Mr. Lee returned one day from the city with a party of friends who had been invited to visit them. They were all seated at the tea table, when a quick ringing of one of the chamber bells attracted their attention.