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THE

ADVENTURES OF A DOG,

AND A GOOD DOG TOO

BY ALFRED ELWES

[Illustration: Cover]

[Illustration: A FAMILY PARTY]




THE

ADVENTURES OF A DOG,

AND A GOOD DOG TOO.

BY ALFRED ELWES,

AUTHOR OF "THE ADVENTURES OF A BEAR," "OCEAN AND HER RULERS," ETC., ETC.

WITH EIGHT ILLUSTRATIONS BY HARRISON WEIR.

  LONDON:
  GEORGE ROUTLEDGE AND CO., FARRINGDON STREET,
  AND 18, BEEKMAN STREET, NEW YORK.

1857.

  LONDON:
  THOMAS HARRILD, PRINTER, 11, SALISBURY SQUARE,
  FLEET STREET.




CONTENTS.


                                            PAGE
  INTRODUCTION BY MISS MINETTE GATTINA         7
  EARLY DAYS                                  12
  CHANGES                                     18
  UPS AND DOWNS                               25
  THE INUNDATION                              37
  PAINS AND PLEASURES                         46
  DUTY                                        55




ILLUSTRATIONS.


                                           PAGE
  A FAMILY PARTY (FRONTISPIECE)               8
  LADY BULL                                  17
  GOOD DOG!                                  22
  A CANINE BUTCHER                           36
  AFLOAT                                     45
  A WORTHY SUBJECT                           54
  A SEVERE BLOW                              60
  CONSOLATION                                62




PREFACE.


I love dogs. Who does not? It is a natural feeling to love those who love
us; and dogs were always fond of me. Thousands can say the same; and I
shall therefore find plenty of sympathy while unfolding my dog's tale.

This attachment of mine to the canine family in general, and their
affection towards myself, have induced me, like the Vizier in the
"Arabian Nights," of happy memory, to devote some time to the study of
their language. Its idiom is not so difficult as many would suppose.
There is a simplicity about it that often shames the dialects of man;
which have been so altered and refined that we discover people often
saying one thing when they mean exactly the reverse. Nothing of the sort
is visible in the great canine tongue. Whether the tone in which it is
uttered be gruff or polished, sharp or insinuating, it is at least
sincere. Mankind would often be puzzled how to use it.

Like many others, its meaning is assisted by gestures of the body, and,
above all, by the expression of the eye. If ever language had its seat in
that organ, as phrenologists pretend, it lies in the eye of the dog. Yet,
a good portion finds its way to his tail. The motion of that eloquent
member is full of meaning. There is the slow wag of anger; the gentle wag
of contentment; the brisker wag of joy: and what can be more mutely
expressive than the limp states of sorrow, humility, and fear?

If the tongue of the dog present such distinctive traits, the qualities
of the animal himself are not less striking. Although the dispositions of
dogs are as various as their forms--although education, connections, the
society they keep, have all their influence--to the credit of their name
be it said, a dog never sullies his mouth with an untruth. His emotions
of pleasure are genuine, never forced. His grief is not the semblance of
woe, but comes from the heart. His devotion is unmixed with other
feelings. It is single, unselfish, profound. Prosperity affects it not;
adversity cannot make it swerve. Ingratitude, that saddest of human
vices, is unknown to the dog. He does not forget past favours, but, when
attached by benefits received, his love endures through life. But I shall
have never done with reciting the praises of this noble animal; the
subject is inexhaustible. My purpose now has narrower limits.

From the archives of the city of Caneville, I lately drew the materials
of a Bear's Biography. From the same source I now derive my "Adventures
of a Dog." My task has been less that of a composer than a translator,
for a feline editoress, a Miss Minette Gattina, had already performed her
part. This latter animal appears, however, to have been so learned a
cat--one may say so deep a puss--that she had furnished more notes than
there was original matter. Another peculiarity which distinguished her
labours was the obscurity of her style; I call it a peculiarity, and not
a defect, because I am not quite certain whether the difficulty of
getting at her meaning lay in her mode of expressing herself or my
deficiency in the delicacies of her language. I think myself a tolerable
linguist, yet have too great a respect for puss to say that any fault is
attributable to her.

The same feeling has, naturally, made me careful in rendering those
portions which were exclusively her own. I have preferred letting her
say little to allowing her to express anything she did not intend. Her
notes, which, doubtless, drew many a purr of approval from her own
breast, and many a wag of approbation from the tails of her choice
acquaintance, I have preferred leaving out altogether; and I have so
curtailed the labours of her paw, and the workings of her brain, as to
condense into half-a-dozen pages her little volume of introduction. The
autobiography itself, most luckily, required no alteration. It is the
work of a simple mind, detailing the events of a simple but not
uneventful life. Whether I have succeeded in conveying to my readers'
intelligence the impression which this Dog's Adventures made on mine,
they alone can decide.

  A. E.

  LYNDHURST ROAD,
  PECKHAM.




INTRODUCTION.

BY MISS MINETTE GATTINA.


It may seem peculiar to any but an inhabitant of this renowned city of
Caneville, that one of _our_ nation should venture on the task of
bringing to the notice of the world the memoir I have undertaken to edit.
But, besides that in this favoured place animals of all kinds learn to
dwell in tolerable harmony together, the subject of this biography had so
endeared himself to all classes and to every tribe by his kindness of
heart, noble devotion, and other dog-like qualities, that there was not a
cat, in spite of the supposed natural antipathy existing between the
great feline and canine races, who would not have set up her back and
fought to the last gasp in defence of this dear old fellow.

Many a time has he saved me from the rough treatment of rude and
ill-conducted curs, when I have been returning from a concert, or
tripping quietly home after a pleasant chat with a friend. Often and
often, when a kitten, has he carried me on his back through the streets,
in order that I might not wet my velvet slippers on a rainy day: and
once, ah! well do I remember it, he did me even greater service; for a
wicked Tom of our race, who had often annoyed me with his attentions, had
actually formed a plan of carrying me off to some foreign land, and would
have succeeded too, if dear Doggy had not got scent of the affair, and
pounced on that treacherous Tom just as he was on the point of executing
his odious project.

I can speak of these things _now_ without the slightest fear of being
accused of vanity. If I say my eyes were beautifully round and green,
they are so no longer. If I boast of the former lightness of my step, it
drags, alas! but too heavily now. If I dwell on the sweetness of my voice
and melody of my purr at one period, little can be said in their favour
at the present day, and I feel therefore less scruple in dilating on the
elegance of my figure, and the taste of my _toilette_, as, when speaking
of them, I seem to be referring to another individual Puss, with whom the
actual snuffy old Tabby has little or no connection.

But, it will be said, these last matters have not much to do with the
object I have in hand. I must not attempt to palm off on my readers any
adventures of my own under the shadow of a dog. I must rather allow my
Cat's-paw to perform the office for which it has become noted, namely,
that of aiding in the recovery of what its owner is not intended to
participate. I must endeavour to place before the world of Caneville, to
be thence transmitted to the less civilized portions of the globe, those
incidents in our Dog's life which he has been too modest to relate
himself, in order that after-generations may fully appreciate all the
goodness of his character. To _greatness_, he had no pretension, although
few animals are aware how close is the relation between these two
qualities.

I think I see the dear old Dog now, as it has been often my privilege to
behold him, seated in his large arm-chair, his hair quite silvered with
age, shading his thoughtful, yet kindly face, his pipe in his paw, his
faithful old friend by his side, and surrounded by a group of attentive
listeners of both sexes, who seemed to hang upon every word of wisdom as
it dropped from his mouth; all these spring to my mind when I recal his
image, and if I were a painter I think I should have no difficulty in
presenting to my readers this pleasant "family party." The very room in
which these meetings were held comes as strongly to my recollection as
the various young and old dogs who were wont to assemble there. Plainly
furnished, it yet boasted some articles of luxury; works of statuary and
painting, presented to old Job by those who admired his goodness, or had
been the objects of his devotion.

One of these, a statuette representing a fast little dog upon a tasteful
pedestal, used often to excite my curiosity, the more because Job showed
no inclination to gratify it. I managed, however, at last to get at the
incident which made Job the possessor of this comical little figure, and
as the circumstance worthily illustrates his character, I will relate it
as the anecdote was told to me.

It was once a fashion in Caneville, encouraged by puppies of the superior
classes, to indulge in habits of so strange a nature as to meet on stated
occasions for the express purpose of trying their skill and strength in
set combats; and although the most frightful consequences often ensued,
these assemblies were still held until put down by the sharp tooth of the
law. The results which ensued were not merely dangerous to life, but
created such a quarrelsome disposition, that many of these dogs were
never happy but when fighting; and the force granted them by nature for
self-defence was too often used most wantonly to the annoyance of their
neighbours. It one day happened that Job was sitting quietly on a steep
bank of the river where it runs into the wood at some distance from the
city, at one moment watching the birds as they skimmed over the water, at
another following the movements of a large fish, just distinguishable
from the height, as it rose at the flies that dropped upon the stream;
when three dogs, among the most celebrated fighters of the time, passed
by that way. Two of them were of the common class, about the size and
weight of Job; the other was a young puppy of good family, whose tastes
had unfortunately led him into such low society. Seeing the mild
expression of Job's face, and confident in their own prowess, they
resolved to amuse themselves at his expense, and to this end drew near to
him. Unobserved by their intended victim, with a rapid motion they
endeavoured to push him head foremost into the river, Master Puppy having
dexterously seized hold of his tail to make the somersault more complete.
Job, although thus unexpectedly set upon from behind, was enabled, by the
exertion of great strength, to defeat the object of his assailants. In
the struggle which ensued, his adversaries discovered that, in spite of
their boasted skill, they had more than found their match. One of them
got rolled over into the stream, out of which he managed to crawl with
considerable difficulty half a mile lower down; the second took to his
heels, with his coat torn, and his person otherwise disordered; and the
fashionable Pup, to his great horror, found himself seized in the
formidable jaws of the unoffending but own angry dog. Imagine how much
his terror was increased when Job, carrying him, as I would a mouse, to
the edge of the precipitous bank, held him sheer over the roaring river.
The poor fellow could not swim, he had a perfect antipathy to the water,
and he felt himself at that moment on the point of being consigned to
certain death without a chance of safety. But he did not know the noble
heart of the animal he had offended. Job let him feel for a few dreadful
seconds the danger to which he had been so thoughtlessly and in joke
about to consign himself, and then placed him in safety on the bank, with
the admonition to reflect for the future on the probable result of his
diversions before he indulged in them, and to consider whether, although
amusing to himself, such games might not be fatal to the animals on whom
they were played off. The shivering puppy was too much alarmed at the
time to attend either to the magnanimity of his antagonist or the wisdom
of his advice, but they were evidently not lost upon him. Many can bear
testimony to the change which that hour wrought in his character; and
some weeks after the event, Job received that statue of his little
adversary, which had so often struck me, executed by a native artist,
with a long letter in verse, a beautiful specimen of doggrel; indeed,
gifts both equally creditable to the sculptor and the writer, and most
honourable to the animal in whose favour they had been executed.

My task will scarce be thought complete without a few words concerning
the personal appearance of my old friend; although, perhaps, few things
could be more difficult for me to describe. Dogs and cats are apt to
admire such very different forms of beauty, that the former often call
beautiful what we think just the reverse. He was tall, strong, and rather
stout, with a large bushy tail, which waved with every emotion of his
mind, for he rarely disguised his feelings. His features were considered
regular, though large, his eyes being particularly bright and full, and
the upper part of his head was broad and high.

But none who knew Job ever thought of his being handsome or otherwise.
You seemed to love him for something more than you could see, something
which had little to do with face, or body, or tail, and yet appeared in
them all, and shone clearly out of his eyes; I mean the spirit of
goodness, which made him so remarkable, and was so much a part of Job,
that I do believe a lock of his hair worn near one's own heart would help
to make it beat more kindly to one's fellow creatures. This idea may be
considered too fanciful, too cat-like, but I believe it notwithstanding.

Such was the Dog whose autobiography I have great pleasure in presenting
to the world. Many may object to the unpolished style in which his
memoirs are clothed, but all who knew him will easily pardon every want
of elegance in his language; and those who had not the honour of his
acquaintance, will learn to appreciate his character from the plain
spirit of truth which breathes in every line he wrote. I again affirm
that I need make no apology for attaching my name to that of one so
worthy the esteem of his co-dogs, ay, and co-cats too; for in spite of
the differences which have so often raised up a barrier between the
members of his race and ours, not even the noblest among us could be
degraded by raising a "mew" to the honour of such a thoroughly honest
dog.

  MINETTE GATTINA.

  THE UPPER MEWS,
  CANEVILLE.




EARLY DAYS.


I was not born in this city of Caneville, but was brought here at so
young an age, that I have no recollection of any other place. I do not
remember either my father or my mother. An old doggess,[A] who was the
only creature I can recal to mind when I was a pup, took care of me. At
least, she said she did. But from what I recollect, I had to take most
care of myself. It was from her I learnt what I know about my parents.
She has told me that my father was a foreign dog of high rank; from a
country many, many miles away, called Newfoundland, and that my mother
was a member of the Mastiff family. But how I came to be under the care
of herself, and how it happened, if my parents were such superior
animals, that I should be forced to be so poor and dirty, I cannot tell.
I have sometimes ventured to ask her; but as she always replied with a
snarl or a bite, I soon got tired of putting any questions to her. I do
not think she was a very good temper; but I should not like to say so
positively, because I was still young when she died, and perhaps the
blows she gave me, and the bites she inflicted, were only intended for my
good; though I did not think so at the time.

[Footnote A: I have preferred adopting this word in speaking of female
dogs, as it comes nearer to the original, _zaÃ¯yen_.]

As we were very poor, we were forced to live in a wretched kennel in the
dampest part of the town, among dogs no better off than ourselves. The
place we occupied overhung the water, and one day when the old doggess
was punishing me for something I had done, the corner in which I was
crouched being rotten, gave way, and I fell plump into the river. I had
never been in the water before, and I was very frightened, for the stream
was so rapid that it carried me off and past the kennels I knew, in an
instant. I opened my mouth to call out for help; but as I was almost
choked with the water that got into it, I shut it again, and made an
effort to reach the land. To my surprise I found that, by moving my paws
and legs, I not only got my head well above the water, but was able to
guide myself to the bank, on to which I at length dragged myself, very
tired and out of breath, but quite recovered from my fear. I ran over the
grass towards the town as fast as I could, stopping now and then to shake
my coat, which was not so wet, however, as you would suppose; but before
I had got half way home I met the doggess, hopping along, with her tongue
out of her mouth, panting for breath, she having run all the way from the
kennel, out of which I had popped so suddenly, along the bank, with the
hope of picking me up somewhere. She knew, she said, that I should never
be drowned. But how she _could_ know that was more than I could then
imagine.

When we met, after I had escaped so great a danger, I flew to her paws,
in the hope of getting a tender lick; but as soon as she recovered
breath, she caught hold of one of my ears with her teeth, and bit it till
I howled with pain, and then set off running with me at a pace which I
found it difficult to keep up with. I remember at the time thinking it
was not very kind of her; but I have since reflected that perhaps she
only did it to brighten me up and prevent me taking cold.

This was my first adventure, and also my first acquaintance with the
water. From that day I often ventured into the river, and in the end
became so good a swimmer, that there were few dogs in Caneville who could
surpass me in strength and dexterity afloat.

Many moons came and passed away, and I was getting a big dog. My appetite
grew with my size, and as there was little to eat at home, I was forced
to wander through the streets to look after stray bones; but I was not
the only animal employed thus hunting for a livelihood, and the bits
scattered about the streets being very few and small, some of us, as may
be imagined, got scanty dinners. There was such quarrelling and fighting,
also, for the possession of every morsel, that if you were not willing to
let go any piece you had seized upon, you were certain to have
half-a-dozen curs upon your back to force you to do so; and the poor
weakly dog, whose only hope of a meal lay in what he might pick up, ran a
sad chance of being starved.

One of the fiercest fights I have ever been engaged in occurred upon one
of these occasions. I had had no breakfast, and it was already past the
hour when the rich dogs of Caneville were used to dine. Hungry and
disconsolate, I was trotting slowly past a large house, when a side-door
opened, and a servant jerked a piece of meat into the road. In the
greatest joy I pounced upon the prize, but not so quickly but that two
ragged curs, who were no doubt as hungry as myself, managed to rush to
the spot in time to get hold of the other end of it. Then came a struggle
for the dainty; and those who do not know how hard dogs will fight for
their dinner, when they have had no breakfast, should have been there to
learn the lesson. After giving and receiving many severe bites, the two
dogs walked off--perhaps they did not think the meat was worth the
trouble of contending for any longer--and I was left to enjoy my meal in
peace. I had scarcely, however, squatted down, with the morsel between my
paws, than a miserable little puppy, who seemed as if he had had neither
dinner nor breakfast for the last week, came and sat himself at a little
distance from me, and without saying a word, brushed the pebbles about
with his ragged tail, licked his chops, and blinked his little eyes at me
so hopefully, that, hungry as I was, I could not begin my meat. As I
looked at him, I observed two tears gather at the side of his nose, and
grow bigger and bigger until they would no longer stop there, but tumbled
on to the ground. I could bear it no longer. I do not know even now what
ailed me; but my own eyes grew so dim, that there seemed a mist before
them which prevented my seeing anything plainly. I started up, and
pushing to the poor whelp the piece of meat which had cost me three new
rents in my coat and a split ear, I trotted slowly away. I stopped at the
corner to see whether he appeared to enjoy it, and partly to watch that
no other dog should take it from him. The road was quite clear, and the
poor pup quite lost in the unusual treat of a good meal; so I took my
way homewards, with an empty stomach but a full heart. I was so pleased
to see that little fellow enjoy his dinner so thoroughly.

This sort of life, wherein one was compelled either to fight for every
bit one could get to eat or go without food altogether, became at last so
tiresome to me that I set about for some other means of providing for my
wants. I could not understand how the old doggess used to manage, but
though she never had anything to give me, she did not seem to be without
food herself. She was getting so much more cross and quarrelsome, perhaps
on account of her age and infirmities, that I now saw but little of her,
as I often, on a fine night, preferred curling myself up under a doorway
or beneath a tree, to returning to the kennel and listening to her feeble
growls. She never seemed to want me there, so I had less difficulty in
keeping away from her.

Chance assisted me in the choice of my new attempt at getting a living. I
was walking along one of the narrow streets of Caneville, when I was
stopped by an old dog, who was known to be very rich and very miserly. He
had lately invented a novel kind of match for lighting pipes and cigars,
which he called "a fire-fly," the composition of which was so dangerous
that it had already caused a good deal of damage in the town from its
exploding; and he wanted some active young dogs to dispose of his wares
to the passers-by according to the custom of Caneville. As he expected a
good deal of opposition from the venders of a rival article, it was
necessary to make choice of such agents as would not be easily turned
from their purpose for fear of an odd bite or two. I suppose he thought I
was well fitted for the object he had in view. I was very poor--one good
reason, for his employing me, as I would be contented with little; I was
strong, and should therefore be able to get through the work; I was
willing, and bore a reputation for honesty--all sufficient causes for old
Fily (that was his name) to stop me this fine morning and propose my
entering his service. Terms are easily arranged where both parties are
willing to come to an agreement. After being regaled with a mouldy bone,
and dressed out in an old suit of clothes belonging to my new master,
which, in spite of a great hole in one of the knees, I was not a little
proud of, with a bundle of wares under my arm and a box of the famous
"fire-flies" in my paw, I began my commercial career.

But, alas! either the good dogs of Caneville were little disposed to
speculate that day, or I was very awkward in my occupation, but no one
seemed willing to make a trial of my "fire-flies." In vain I used the
most enticing words to set off my goods, even going so far as to say that
cigars lighted with these matches would have a very much finer flavour,
and could not possibly go out. This I said on the authority of my
employer, who assured me of the fact. It was of no use; not a single
"fire-fly" blazed in consequence, and I began to fear that I was not
destined to make my fortune as a match-seller.

At length there came sweeping down the street a party which at once
attracted me, and I resolved to use my best efforts to dispose, at least,
of one of my boxes, if it were only to convince my master that I had done
my best. The principal animal of the group was a lady doggess,
beautifully dressed, with sufficient stuff in her gown to cover a dozen
ordinary dogs, a large muff to keep her paws from the cold, and a very
open bonnet with a garden-full of flowers round her face, which, in spite
of her rich clothes, I did not think a very pretty one. A little behind
her was another doggess, not quite so superbly dressed, holding a puppy
by the paw. It was very certain that they were great animals, for two or
three dogs they had just passed had taken off their hats as they went by,
and then put their noses together as if they were saying something about
them.

[Illustration: LADY BULL]

I drew near, and for the first time in my life was timid and abashed. The
fine clothes, no doubt, had something to do with making me feel so,
but--I was still very young. Taking courage, I went on tiptoe to the
great lady, and begged her to buy a box of "fire-flies" of a poor dog who
had no other means of gaining his bread. Now, you must know that these
matches had not a pleasant smell--few matches have; but as they were
shut up in the box, the odour could not have been _very_ sensible.
However, when I held up the article towards her ladyship, she put her paw
to her nose--as though to shut out the odour--uttered a low howl, and,
though big enough and strong enough to have sent me head over heels with
a single blow, seemed on the point of falling to the ground. But at the
instant, two male servants, whom I had not seen, ran to her assistance,
while I, who was the innocent cause of all this commotion, stood like a
silly dog that I was, with my box in the air and my mouth wide open,
wondering what it all meant. I was not suffered to remain long in
ignorance; for the two hounds in livery, turning to me, so belaboured my
poor back that I thought at first my bones were broken; while the young
puppy, who, it appears, was her ladyship's youngest son, running behind
me, while I was in this condition, gave my tail such a pull as to cause
me the greatest pain. They then left me in the middle of the road, to
reflect on my ill success in trade, and gather up my stock as I best
could.

I do not know what it was which made me so anxious to learn the name and
rank of the lady doggess who had been the cause of my severe punishment,
but I eagerly inquired of a kind mongrel, who stopped to help me collect
my scattered goods, if he knew anything about her. He said, she was
called Lady Bull; that her husband. Sir John Bull, had made a large
fortune somehow, and that they lived in a splendid house, had about
thirty puppies, little and big, had plenty of servants, and spent a
great deal of money. He could hardly imagine, he said, that it was the
odour of the "fire-flies" which had occasioned me to be knocked down for
upsetting her ladyship, as she had been a butcher's daughter, and was
used to queer smells, unless her nose had perhaps got more delicate with
her change of position.

He said much more about her and her peculiarities than I either remember
or care to repeat; but, imagining he had some private reasons for saying
what he did, I thanked him for his trouble, and bid him good day.

Whatever the cause of my failure, it seemed that I was not fitted for the
match-business. At all events, the experience of that morning did not
encourage me sufficiently to proceed. So, returning the unsold
"fire-flies" to old Fily, I made him a present of the time I had already
spent in his service, and, with a thoughtful face and aching bones, took
my way towards the kennel by the water-side.




CHANGES.


The sun was just going down as I came in sight of the river and the row
of poor kennels which stood on the bank, many of them, like our own,
projecting half over the water. I could not help wondering at the pretty
effect they made at a distance, with the blue river dancing gaily by
their side, the large trees of the wood on the opposite bank waving in
beauty, and the brilliant sun changing everything that his rays fell upon
into gold. He made the poor kennels look so splendid for the time, that
no one would have thought the animals who lived in them could ever be
poor or unhappy. But when the rich light was gone,--gone with the sun
which made it to some other land,--it seemed as if the whole place was
changed. The trees shivered as though a cold wind was stirring them. The
river ran dark and sullenly by the poor houses; and the houses themselves
looked more wretched, I thought, than they had ever appeared before. Yet,
somehow, they were more homelike in their dismal state than when they had
a golden roof and purple sides, so, resuming my walk, for I had stopped
to admire the pretty picture, I soon came near the door.

It was open, as usual. But what was _not_ usual, was to hear other sounds
from within than the voice of the old doggess, making ceaseless moans.
Now it seemed as if all the doggesses of the neighbourhood had met in the
poor hut to pass the evening, for there was such confusion of tongues,
and such a rustling sound, as told me, before I peeped inside, that
there was a large party got together, and that tails were wagging at a
fearful rate.

When I stood before the open door, all the scene broke upon me. On her
bed of straw, evidently at the point of death, lay my poor doggess. Her
eyes had almost lost their fierce expression, and were becoming fixed and
glassy--a slight tremor in her legs and movement of her stumpy tail, were
all that told she was yet living; not even her breast was seen to heave.

I had not much reason to bear love to the old creature for any kindness
she had ever shown me, but this sight overcame me at once. Springing to
her aide, and upsetting half a dozen of the gossips by the movement, I
laid my paw on hers; and, involuntarily raising my head in the air, I
sent forth a howl which shook the rotten timbers of the old kennel, and
so frightened the assembled party as to make them scamper out of the
place like mad things. The sound even called back the departing senses of
the dying doggess. She drew me to her with her paws, and made an effort
to lick me. The action quite melted me. I put down my head to hers and
felt a singular pleasure mixed with grief whilst I licked and caressed
her, I could not help thinking then, as I have often thought since, of
how much happiness we had lost by not being more indulgent to each
other's faults, forgiving and loving one another. She also seemed to be
of this opinion, if I might judge by the grateful look and passive manner
in which she received my attentions. Perhaps the near approach of her end
gave a softness to her nature which was unusual to her; it is not
unlikely; but, of a certainty, I never felt before how much I was losing,
as when I saw that poor doggess's life thus ebbing away.

Night had come on while I sat watching by her side. Everything about the
single room had become more and more indistinct, until all objects were
alike blended in the darkness. I could no longer distinguish the shape of
my companion, and, but that I _knew_ she was there, I could have thought
myself alone. The wind had fallen; the water seemed to run more gently
than it was wont to do; and the noises which generally make themselves
heard in the streets of Caneville appeared to be singularly quieted. But
once only, at another period of my life, which I shall speak of in its
proper place, do I ever remember to have been so struck by the silence,
and to have felt myself so entirely alone.

The moon appeared to rise quicker that night, as though it pitied the
poor forlorn dog. It peeped over an opposite house, and directly after,
shone coldly but kindly through the open door. At least, its light seemed
to come like the visit of a friend, in spite of its showing me what I
feared, that I was _indeed_ alone in the world. The poor doggess had died
in the darkness between the setting of the sun and the moon's rise.

I was sure that she was dead, yet I howled no more. My grief was very
great; for it is a sad, sad thing when you are young to find you are
without friends; perhaps sadder when you are old; but that, I fortunately
do not myself know, for I am old, and have many friends. I recollect
putting my nose between my paws, and lying at full length on the floor,
waiting till the bright sun should come again, and thinking of my forlorn
condition. I must have slept and dreamed--yet I thought I was still in
the old kennel with the dead doggess by my side. But everything seemed to
have found a voice, and to be saying kind things to me.

The river, as it ran and shook the supports of the old kennel, appeared
to cry out in a rough but gay tone: "Job, Job, my dog, cheer up, cheer
up; the world is before you, Job, cheer up, cheer up." The light wind
that was coming by that way stopped to speak to me as it passed. It flew
round the little room, and whispered as it went: "Poor dog, poor dog, you
are very lonely; but the good need not be so; the good may have friends,
dear Job, however poor!" The trees, as they waved their heads, sent
kindly words across the water, that made their way to my heart right
through the chinks of the old cabin; and when morning broke, and a bright
sky smiled beautifully upon the streets of Caneville, I woke up, sad
indeed, but full of hope.

Some ragged curs arrived, and carried the old doggess away. She was very
heavy, and they were forced to use all their strength. I saw her cast
into the water, which she disliked so much alive; I watched her floating
form until the rapid current bore it into the wood, and I stayed sitting
on the brink of the river wondering where it would reach at last, and
what sort of places must lie beyond the trees. I had an idea in my own
mind that the sun rested there all night, only I could not imagine how it
came up again in the morning in quite an opposite quarter; but then I was
such a young and ignorant puppy!

After thinking about this and a good many other matters of no importance
to my story, I got upon my legs, and trotted gently along the bank,
towards a part of the city which I did not remember to have seen before.
The houses were very few, but they were large and handsome, and all had
pretty gardens in nice order, with flowers which smelt so sweet, that I
thought the dogs who could always enjoy such advantages must be very
happy. But one of the houses, larger than all the rest, very much struck
me, for I had never an idea of such a splendid place being in Caneville.
It was upon a little hill that stood at some distance from the river, and
the ground which sloped down from the house into the water was covered
with such beautiful grass, that it made one long to nibble and roll upon
it.

While I was quietly looking at this charming scene, I was startled by a
loud noise of barking and howling higher up the river, and a confused
sound, as if a great many dogs were assembled at one place, all calling
out together. I ran at once in the direction of the hubbub, partly out of
curiosity and in part from some other motive, perhaps the notion of being
able to render some help.

A little before me the river had a sudden bend, and the bank rose high,
which prevented me seeing the cause of the noise; but when I reached the
top, the whole scene was before me. On my side of the river a great crowd
had assembled, who were looking intently upon something in the water;
and on the opposite bank there was a complete stream of dogs, running
down to the hill which belonged to the beautiful house I had been
admiring. Every dog, as he ran, seemed to be trying to make as much noise
as he could; and those I spoke to were barking so loudly, and jumping
about in such a way, that I could at first get no explanation of what was
the matter. At last I saw that the struggling object in the water was a
young puppy, which seemed very nicely dressed, and at the same moment the
mongrel, who had helped me to pick up my matches the day before, came
alongside of me, and said: "Ah, young firefly, how are you? Isn't this a
game? That old Lady Bull who got you such a drubbing yesterday, is in a
pretty mess. Her thirty-second pup has just tumbled into the water, and
will certainly be drowned. Isn't she making a fuss? just look!"

One rapid glance showed me the grand lady he spoke of, howling most
fearfully on the other side of the stream, while two pups, about the same
size as the one in the water, and a stout dog, who looked like the papa,
were sometimes catching hold of her and then running about, not knowing
what to do.

I stopped no longer. I threw off my over-coat, and running to a higher
part of the bank, leapt into the water, the mongrel's voice calling after
me: "What are you going to do? Don't you know its the son of the old
doggess who had you beat so soundly? Look at your shoulder, where the
hair has been all knocked off with the blows?" Without paying the least
attention to these words, which I could not help hearing they were called
out so loudly, I used all my strength to reach the poor little pup, who,
tired with his efforts to help himself, had already floated on to his
back, while his tiny legs and paws were moving feebly in the air. I
reached him after a few more efforts, and seizing his clothes with my
teeth, I got his head above the water, and swam with my load slowly
towards the bank.

As I got nearer, I could see Lady Bull, still superbly dressed, but
without her bonnet, throw up her paws and nose towards the sky, and fall
back into the arms of her husband; while the two pups by her side
expressed their feelings in different ways; for one stuffed his little
fists into his eyes, and the other waved his cap in the air, and broke
forth into a succession of infantile bow-wows.

[Illustration: GOOD DOG!]

On reaching, the bank, I placed my load at the feet of his poor mother,
who threw herself by his side and hugged him to her breast, in a way
which proved how much tenderness was under those fine clothes and
affected manners. The others stood around her uttering low moans of
sympathy, and I, seeing all so engaged and taken up with the recovered
dog, quietly, and, as I thought, unseen by all, slid back into the water,
and permitted myself to be carried by the current down the river. I
crawled out at some short distance from the spot where this scene had
taken place, and threw myself on to the grass, in order to rest from my
fatigue and allow the warm sun to dry my saturated clothes. What I felt I
can scarce describe, although I remember so distinctly everything
connected with that morning. My principal sensation was that of savage
joy, to think I had saved the son of the doggess who had caused me such
unkind treatment. I was cruel enough, I am sorry to say, to figure to
myself her pain at receiving such a favour from me--but that idea soon
passed away, on reflecting that perhaps she would not even know to whom
she owed her son's escape from death.

In the midst of my ruminations, a light step behind me caused me to raise
my head. I was positively startled at the beautiful object which I
beheld. It was a lady puppy about my own age, but so small in size, and
with such an innocent sweet look, that she seemed much younger. Her dress
was of the richest kind, and her bonnet, which had fallen back from her
head, showed her glossy dark hair and drooping ears that hung gracefully
beside her cheeks. Poorly as I was dressed, and wet as I still was from
my bath, she sat herself beside me, and putting her little soft paw upon
my shoulder, said, with a smile--

"Ah, Job!--for I know that's your name--did you think you could get off
so quietly without any one seeing you, or stopping you, or saying one
single 'thank you, Job,' for being such a good noble dog as you are? Did
you think there was not one sharp eye in Caneville to watch the saver,
but that all were fixed upon the saved? That every tongue was so engaged
in sympathizing with the mother, that not one was left to praise the
brave? If you thought this, dear Job, you did me and others wrong, great
wrong. There are some dogs, at least, who may forget an injury, but who
never forget a noble action, and I have too great a love for my species
to let you think so. I shall see you again, dear Job, though I must leave
you now. I should be blamed if it were known that I came here to talk to
you as I have done; but I could not help it, I could not let you believe
that a noble heart was not understood in Caneville. Adieu. Do not forget
the name of Fida."

She stooped down, and for a moment her silky hair waved on my rough
cheek, while her soft tongue gently licked my face. Before I could open
my mouth in reply--before, indeed, I had recovered from my surprise, and
the admiration which this beautiful creature caused me, she was gone. I
sprang on to my legs to observe which way she went, but not a trace of
her could I see, and I thought it would not be proper to follow her. When
I felt certain of being alone, I could hardly restrain my feelings. I
threw myself on my back, I rolled upon the grass, I turned head over
heels in the boisterousness of my spirit, and then gambolled round and
round like a mad thing.

Did I believe all the flattering praises which the lovely Fida had
bestowed on me? I might perhaps have done so then, and in my inexperience
might have fancied that I was quite a hero. Time has taught me another
lesson. It has impressed upon me the truth, that when we do our duty we
do only what should be expected of every dog; only what every dog ought
to do. Of the two, Fida had done the nobler action. She had shown not
only a promptness to feel what she considered good, but she had had the
courage to say so in private to the doer, although he was of the poorest
and she of the richest class of Caneville society. In saving the little
pup's life, I had risked nothing; I knew my strength, and felt certain I
could bring him safely to the shore. If I had _not_ tried to save the
poor little fellow I should have been in part guilty of his death. But
she, in bestowing secret praise and encouragement upon a poor dog who had
no friends to admire her for so doing, while her action would perhaps
bring blame upon her from her proud friends, did that which was truly
good and noble.

The thought of returning to my solitary home after the sad scene of the
night before, and particularly after the new feelings just excited, was
not a pleasant one. The bright sky and fresh air seemed to suit me better
than black walls and the smell of damp straw. Resolving in my mind,
however, to leave it as soon as possible, I re-crossed the river, and,
with a slower step than usual, took the road which led thither.




UPS AND DOWNS.


I should not probably have spoken of these last incidents in my life, as
the relation of them savours rather too much of vanity, but for certain
results of the highest importance to my future fortunes.

When I reached the old kennel I found, waiting my return, two terrier
dogs in livery, with bulls' heads grinning from such a quantity of
buttons upon their lace coats that it was quite startling. They brought
a polite message from Sir John and Lady Bull, begging me to call upon
them without delay. As the servants had orders to show me the road, we
set off at once.

I was very silent on the journey, for my companions were so splendidly
dressed that I could not help thinking they must be very superior dogs
indeed; and I was rather surprised, when they spoke to each other, to
find that they talked just like any other animals, and a good deal more
commonly than many that I knew. But such is the effect of fine clothes
upon those who know no better.

We soon reached the grounds of the mansion, having crossed the river in a
boat that was waiting for us; and after passing through a garden more
beautiful than my poor dog's brain had ever imagined, we at last stood
before the house itself. I need not describe to you, who know the place
so well, the vastness of the building or the splendour of its appearance.
What struck me more even than the palace, was the number of the servants
and the richness of their clothes. Each of them seemed fine enough to be
the master of the place, and appeared really to think so, if I could
judge by the way they strutted about and the look they gave at my poor
apparel. I was much abashed at first to find myself in such a company and
make so miserable a figure; but I was consoled with the thought that not
one of them that morning had ventured, in spite of his eating his
master's meat and living in his master's house, to plunge into the water
to save his master's son. Silly dog that I was! it did not enter my head
at the same time to inquire whether any of them had learnt to swim.

If the outside of the mansion had surprised me by its beauty, the
interior appeared of course much more extraordinary to my ignorant mind.
Every thing I was unused to looked funny or wonderful; and if I had not
been restrained by the presence of such great dogs, I should have
sometimes laughed outright, and at others broken forth into expressions
of surprise.

The stout Sir John Bull was standing in the middle of the room when I
entered it, while the stouter Lady Bull was lying on a kind of sofa, that
seemed quite to sink beneath her weight. I found out afterwards that it
was the softness of the sofa which made it appear so; for sitting on it
myself, at my Lady's request, I jumped up in the greatest alarm, on
finding the heaviest part of my body sink lower and lower down, and my
tail come flapping into my face.

Sir John and Lady Bull now thanked me very warmly for what I had done,
and said a great many things which it is not worth while to repeat. I
remember they were very pleasing to me then, but I am sure cannot be
interesting to you now. After their thanks, Sir John began to talk to me
about myself--about my parents--my wishes--what I intended to do--and
what were my means? To his great surprise he learnt that parents I had
none; that my only wishes were the desire to do some good for myself and
others, and earn my meat; that I had no notion what I intended doing, and
had no means whatever to do anything with. It may be believed that I
willingly accepted his offer to watch over a portion of his grounds, to
save them from the depredations of thieves, on condition of my receiving
good clothes, plenty of food, and a comfortable house to live in. It was
now my turn to be thankful. But although my heart was full at this piece
of good fortune, and I could _think_ of a great many things to say to
show my gratitude, not a single word could I find to express it in, but
stood before them like a dumb dog, with only the wave of my tail to
explain my thanks. They seemed, however, to understand it, and I was at
once ordered a complete suit of clothes and everything fitted for my new
position. I was also supplied with the most abundant supper I had ever
had in my life, and went to rest upon the most delightful bed; so that
before I went to sleep, and I do believe afterwards too, I kept saying to
myself, "Job, Job, you have surely got some other dog's place; all this
good luck can't be meant for you; what have you done, Job, that you
should eat such meat, and sleep on so soft a bed, and be spoken to so
kindly? Don't forget yourself, Job; there must be some mistake." But when
I got up in the morning, and found a breakfast for me as nice as the
supper, and looked at my clothes, which, if not so smart as some of the
others, were better and finer than any I could ever have thought I should
have worn, I was at last convinced, that although I was poor Job, and
although I did not, perhaps, deserve all the happiness I felt, that it
was not a dream, but real, plain truth. "As it is so," I said again, "I
must do my duty as well as I am able, for that is the only way a poor dog
like me can show his gratitude."

After breakfast, I accompanied Sir John to the place of my future home. A
quarter of an hour's walk brought us to a gentle hill, which, similar to
the one whereon the mansion itself was situated, sloped downwards to the
water. One or two trees, like giant sentinels, stood near the top, and
behind them waved the branches of scores more, while beyond for many a
mile spread the dark mass of the thick forest of which I have more than
once made mention. Nearly at the foot of the hill, beneath a spreading
oak, was a cottage, a very picture of peace and neatness; and as we
paused, Sir John pointed out the peculiarities of the position and
explained my duties. It appeared that this part of his grounds was noted
for a delicate kind of bird, much esteemed by himself and his family, and
which was induced to flock there by regular feeding and the quiet of the
situation. This fact was, however, perfectly well known to others besides
Sir John; and as these others were just as fond of the birds as himself,
they were accustomed to pay nightly visits to the forbidden ground, and
carry off many of the plumpest fowl. The wood was known to shelter many a
wandering fox, who, although dwelling so near the city, could not be
prevailed on to abandon their roguish habits and live in a civilised
manner. These birds were particularly to their taste, and it required the
greatest agility to keep off the cunning invaders, for, though they had
no great courage, and would not attempt to resist a bold dog, they
frequently succeeded in eluding all vigilance and getting off with their
booty. Often, too, a stray cur, sometimes two or three together, from the
lowest classes of the population, would, when moved by hunger, make a
descent on the preserves, and battles of a fierce character not seldom
occurred, for, unlike the foxes, they were never unwilling to fight, but
showed the utmost ferocity when attacked, and were often the aggressors.
But those were not all. The grounds were exactly opposite that part of
the city of Caneville known as the "Mews," and occupied by the cat
population, who have a general affection for most birds, and held these
preserved ones in particular esteem. Fortunately, the water that
interposed was a formidable barrier for the feline visitors, as few
pussies like to wet their feet; but, by some means or other, they
frequently found their way across, and by their dexterity, swiftness, and
the quiet of their movements, committed terrible ravages among the birds.
When Sir John had told me all this, he led the way down the hill to the
small house under the tree. It had two rooms, with a kennel at the back.
The front room was the parlour, and I thought few places could have been
so neat and pretty. The back was the sleeping-room, and the windows of
both looked out upon the soft grass and trees, and showed a fine view of
the river.

"This," said Sir John, "is your house, and I hope you will be happy in it
yourself, and be of service to me. You will not be alone, for
there"--pointing to the kennel at the back--"sleeps an old servant of the
family, who will assist you in your duties."

He then called out "Nip," when a rumbling noise was heard from the
kennel, and directly after a lame hound came hopping round to the door.
The sight of this old fellow was not pleasant at first, for his hair was
a grizzly brown and his head partly bald; his eyes were sunk, and,
indeed, almost hidden beneath his bushy brows, and his cheeks hung down
below his mouth and shook with every step he took. I soon found out that
he was as singular in his manners as in his looks, and had such a dislike
to talking that it was a rare thing for him to say more than two or three
words at one time. Sir John told him who I was, and desired him to obey
my orders; commanded us both to be good friends and not quarrel, as
strange dogs were rather apt to do; and after some more advice left us to
ourselves, I in a perfect dream of wonderment, and "Nip" sitting winking
at me in a way that I thought more funny than agreeable.

After we had sat looking at one another for some time, I said, just to
break the silence, which was becoming tiresome--

"A pretty place this!"

Nip winked.

"Have you been here long?" I asked.

"Think so," said Nip.

"All alone?" I inquired.

"Almost," Nip replied.

"Much work to do, eh?" I asked.

The only answer Nip gave to this was by winking first one eye and then
the other, and making his cheeks rise and fall in a way so droll that I
could not help laughing, at which Nip seemed to take offence, for without
waiting for any farther questions he hopped out of the room, and I saw
him, soon after, crawling softly up the hill, as if on the look out for
some of the thieves Sir John had spoken of.

I, too, went off upon the watch. I took my way along the bank, I glided
among the bushes, ran after a young fox whose sharp nose I spied pointed
up a tree, but without catching him, and finally returned to my new home
by the opposite direction. Nip came in shortly after, and we sat down to
our dinner.

Although this portion of my life was, perhaps, the happiest I have ever
known, it has few events worth relating. The stormy scenes which are so
painful to the dog who suffers them, are those which are most interesting
to the hearer; while the quiet days, that glide peacefully away, are so
like each other, that an account of one of them is a description of many.
A few hours can be so full of action, as to require volumes to describe
them properly, and the history of whole years can be written on a single
page.

I tried, as I became fixed in my new position, to do what I had resolved
when I entered it; namely, my duty. I think I succeeded; I certainly
obtained my master's praise, and sometimes my own; for I had a habit of
talking to myself, as Nip so rarely opened his mouth, and would praise or
blame myself just as I thought I deserved it. I am afraid I was not
always just, but too often said, "Well done, Job; that's right, Job;"
when I ought to have called out, "You're wrong, Job; you ought to feel,
Job, that you're wrong;" but it is not so easy a thing to be just, even
to ourselves.

One good lesson I learned in that little cottage, which has been of use
to me all my life through; and that was, to be very careful about judging
dogs by their looks. There was old Nip: when I first saw him, I thought I
had never beheld such an ugly fellow in my life, and could not imagine
how anything good was to be expected from so cross a looking, ragged old
hound. And yet nothing could be more beautiful, more loveable than dear
old Nip, when you came to know him well. All the misfortunes he had
suffered, all the knocks he had received in passing through the world,
seemed to have made his heart more tender; and he was so entirely
good-natured, that in all the time we were together, I never heard him
say an unkind thing of living or dead animal. I believe his very silence
was caused by the goodness of his disposition; for as he could not help
seeing many things he did not like, but could not alter, he preferred
holding his tongue to saying what could not be agreeable. Dear, dear Nip!
if ever it should be resolved to erect a statue of goodness in the public
place of Caneville, they ought to take you for a model; you would not be
so pleasant to look on as many finer dogs, but when once known, your
image would be loved, dear Nip, as I learned to love the rugged original.

It can be of no interest to you to hear the many fights we had in
protecting the property of our master during the first few moons after my
arrival. Almost every night we were put in danger of lives, for the curs
came in such large numbers that there was a chance of our being pulled to
pieces in the struggle. Yet we kept steady watch; and after a time,
finding, I suppose, that we were never sleeping at our post, and that our
courage rose with every fresh attack, the thieves gradually gave up open
war, and only sought to entrap the birds by artifice; and, like the foxes
and cats, came sneaking into the grounds, and trusted to the swiftness of
their legs rather than the sharpness of their teeth when Nip or I caught
sight of them.

And thus a long, long time passed away. I had, meanwhile, grown to my
full size, and was very strong and active: not so stout as I have got in
these later years, when my toes sometimes ache with the weight which
rests on them, but robust and agile, and as comely, I believe, as most
dogs of my age and descent.

The uniformity of my life, which I have spoken of as making me so happy,
was interrupted only by incidents that did not certainly cause me
displeasure. I renewed my acquaintance with "Fida," no longer _little_
Fida, for she had grown to be a beautiful lady-dog. Our second meeting
was by chance, but we talked like old friends, so much had our first done
to remove all strangeness. I don't think the next time we saw each other
was quite by accident. If I remember rightly, it was not; and we often
met afterwards. We agreed that we should do all we could to assist one
another, though what _I_ could do for so rich and clever a lady-dog I
could not imagine, although I made the promise very willingly. On her
part, she did for me what I can never sufficiently repay. She taught me
to read, lending me books containing strange stories of far-off
countries, and beautiful poetry, written by some deep dogs of the city;
she taught me to write; and in order to exercise me, made me compose
letters to herself, which Nip carried to her, bringing me back such
answers as would astonish you; for when you thought you had got to the
end, they began all over again in another direction. Besides these, she
taught me to speak and act properly, in the way that well-behaved dogs
ought to do; for I had been used to the company of such low and poor
animals, that it was not surprising if I should make sad blunders in
speech and manners. I need not say that she taught me to love herself,
for that you will guess I had done from the first day I saw her, when I
was wet from my jump in the river, and she spoke to me such flattering
words. No; she could not teach me more love for herself than I already
knew. That lesson had been learnt _by heart_, and at a single sitting.

Our peaceful days were drawing to a close. Sir John died. Lady Bull lived
on for a short time longer. Many said, when she followed, that she ate
herself to death; but I mention the rumour in order to deny it, for I am
sure it was grief that killed her. It is a pity some dogs will repeat
everything they hear, without considering the mischief such tittle-tattle
may occasion--although it has been asserted by many that in this case the
false intelligence came from the Cats, who had no great affection for
poor Lady Bull. Whatever the cause, she died, and with her the employment
of poor Nip and myself. The young Bulls who came into possession of the
estate, sold the preserves to a stranger; and as the new proprietor
intended killing off the birds, and did not require keepers, there being
no longer anything for them to do, we were turned upon the world.

The news came upon us so suddenly, that we were quite unprepared for it;
and we were, besides, so far from being rich, that it was a rather
serious matter to find out how we should live until we could get some
other occupation. I was not troubled for myself; for, though I had been
used to good feeding lately, I did not forget the time when I was often
forced to go the whole day with scarce a bit to eat; but the thought of
how poor old Nip would manage gave me some pain.

Having bid adieu to the peaceful cottage, where we had spent such happy
times, we left the green fields and pleasant trees and proceeded to the
town, where, after some difficulty, we found a humble little house which
suited our change of fortune. Here we began seriously to muse over what
we should do. I proposed making a ferry-boat of my back, and, stationing
myself at the waterside near the "Mews," swim across the river with such
cats as required to go over and did not like to walk as far as where the
boat was accustomed to be. By these means I calculated on making enough
money to keep us both comfortably. Nip thought not. He said that the cats
would not trust me--few cats ever did trust the dogs--and then, though he
did not dislike cats, not at all, for he knew a great many very sensible
cats, and very good ones too, he did not like the idea of seeing his
friend walked over by cats or dogs, or any other animal, stranger or
domestic. Besides, there were other objections. Strong as I was, I could
not expect, if I made a boat of myself, that I could go on and on without
wanting repair any more than a real boat; but where was the carpenter to
put _me_ to rights, or take out _my_ rotten timbers and put in fresh
ones. No; that would not do; we must think of something else.

It must not be imagined that Nip made all this long speech in one breath,
or in a dozen breaths. It took him a whole morning to explain himself
even as clearly as I have tried to do; and perhaps I may still have
written what he did not quite intend, for his words came out with a jump,
one or two at a time, and often so suddenly that it would have startled a
dog who was not used to his manner.

Nip himself made the next proposal, and though I did not exactly like it,
there seemed so little choice, that I at once agreed to do my part in the
scheme. Nip was the son of a butcher, and though he had followed the
trade but a short time himself, he was a very good judge of meat. He,
therefore, explained that if I would undertake to become the seller, he
would purchase and prepare the meat, and he thought he could make it look
nice enough to induce the dogs to come and buy.

Our stock of money being very small, a house-shop was out of the
question, so there was no chance of getting customers from the better
class,--a thing which I regretted, as I had little taste for the society
of the vulgar; but, again, as it could not be helped, the only thing to
do was to make the best of it. A wheelbarrow was therefore bought by Nip,
with what else was necessary to make me a complete "walking butcher," and
having got in a stock of meat the day before, Nip cut, and contrived, and
shaped, and skewered, in so quiet and business-like a way as proved he
knew perfectly well what he was about. With early morning, after Nip had
arranged my dress with the same care as he had bestowed upon the barrow
and its contents, I wheeled my shop into the street, and amid a great
many winks of satisfaction from my dear old friend, I went trudging
along, bringing many a doggess to the windows of the little houses by my
loud cry of "Me-eet! Fresh me-eet!"

As I was strange in my new business, and did not feel quite at my ease, I
fancied every dog I met, and every eye that peeped from door and
casement, stared at me in a particular manner, as if they knew I was
playing my part for the first time, and were watching to see how I did
it. The looks that were cast at my meat, were all, I thought, intended
for me, and when a little puppy leered suspiciously at the barrow as he
was crossing the road, no doubt to see that it did not run over him, I
could only imagine that he was thinking of the strange figure I made,
and my awkward attempt at getting a living. Feelings like these no doubt
alarm every new beginner; but time and habit, if they do not reconcile us
to our lot, will make it at least easier to perform, and thus, after some
two hours' journeying through the narrow lanes of Caneville, I did what
my business required of me with more assurance than when I first set out.

One thing, however, was very distasteful to me, and I could so little
bear to see it, that I even spoke of it aloud, and ran the risk of
offending some of my customers. I mean the _way_ in which several of the
dogs devoured the meat after they had bought it. You will think that when
they had purchased their food and paid for it, they had a right to eat it
as they pleased: I confess it; nothing can be more true; but still, my
ideas had changed so of late, that it annoyed me very much to see many of
these curs, living as they did in the most civilized city in this part of
the world, gnawing their meat as they held it on the ground with their
paws, and growling if any one came near as though there was no such thing
as a police in Caneville. I forgot when I was scolding these poor dogs,
that perhaps they had never been taught better, and deserved pity rather
than blame. I forgot too that I had myself behaved as they did before I
had been blessed with happier fortune, and that, even then, if I had
looked into my own conduct, I should have found many things more worthy
of censure than these poor curs' mode of devouring their food.

The lane I was passing along was cut across by a broad and open street,
the favourite promenade of the fashionables of Caneville. There might be
seen about mid-day, when the sun was shining, troops of well-dressed dogs
and a few superior cats, some attended by servants, others walking alone,
and many in groups of two or three, the male dogs smoking cigars, the
ladies busily talking, while they looked at and admired one another's
pretty dresses and bonnets.

By the time I had got thus far, I had become tolerably used to my new
work, and could imagine that when the passers-by cast their eyes on my
barrow, their glances had more to do with the meat than with myself. But
I did not like the idea of crossing the road where such grand dogs were
showing off their finery. After a little inward conversation with myself,
which finished with my muttering between my teeth, "Job, brother Job, I
am ashamed of you! where is your courage, brother Job? Go on; go on;" I
went on without further delay.

I had got half-way across, and was already beginning to praise myself for
the ease with which I turned my barrow in and out of the crowd without
running over the toes of any of the puppies, who were far too much
engaged to look after them themselves when a dirty little cur stopped me
to buy a penn'orth of meat. I set down my load just in time to avoid
upsetting a very fat and splendidly dressed doggess, who must, if I had
run the wheel into her back, and it was very near it, have gone head
foremost into the barrow. This little incident made me very hot, and I
did not get cooler when my customer squatted down in the midst of the
well-dressed crowd, and began tearing his meat in the way I have before
described as being so unpleasant. At the same moment another dog by his
side, with a very ragged coat, and queer little face, held up his paw to
ask for "a little bit," as he was very hungry, "only a little bit." I
should, probably, have given him a morsel, as I remembered the time when
I wanted it as much as he seemed to do, but for an unexpected meeting.
Turning my head at a rustling just behind me, I saw a well-dressed dog,
with a hat of the last fashion placed so nicely on his head that it
seemed to be resting on the bridge of his nose, the smoke from a cigar
issuing gracefully from his mouth, and his head kept in an upright
posture by a very stiff collar which ran round the back of his neck, and
entirely prevented his turning round his head without a great deal of
care and deliberation, while a tuft of hair curled nicely from beneath
his chin, and gave a fine finish to the whole dog. But though I have
spoken of this Caneville fashionable, it was not he who caused the
rustling noise, or who most attracted my attention. Tripping beside
him, with her soft paw beneath his, was a lady-dog, whose very dress told
her name, at least in my eyes, before I saw her face. I felt sure that it
was Fida, and I wished myself anywhere rather than in front of that
barrow with an ill-bred cur at my feet gnawing the penn'orth of meat he
had just bought of me. Before I had time to catch up my load and depart,
a touch on my shoulder, so gentle that it would not have hurt a fly, and
yet which made me tremble more than if it had been the grip of a giant
animal, forced me again to turn. It _was_ Fida; as beautiful and as fresh
as ever, who gave me a sweet smile of recognition and encouragement as
she passed with her companion, and left me standing there as stupid and
uncomfortable as if I had been caught doing something wrong.

[Illustration: A CANINE BUTCHER]

You will say that it was very ridiculous in me to feel so ashamed and
disconcerted at being seen by her or any other dog or doggess in my
common dress, and following an honest occupation. I do not deny it. And
in telling you these things I have no wish to spare myself, I have no
excuse to offer, but only to relate events and describe feelings
precisely as they were.




THE INUNDATION.


That evening it seemed as if Nip and I had changed characters. It was he
who did all the talking, while I sat in a corner, full of thought, and
answered yes or no to everything he said, and sometimes in the wrong
place, I am sure; for once or twice he looked at me very attentively, and
winked in a way which proved that he was puzzled by my manner.

The reason of his talkativeness was the success I had attained in my
first morning's walk, for I had sold nearly all the meat, and brought
home a pocket full of small money. The cause of my silence was the
unexpected meeting with Fida, and the annoyance I felt at having been
seen by her in such a position. This was the first time I had set eyes on
her for several days. When we left our pretty country lodging, I wrote
her a letter, which Nip carried as usual to her house, but he was told
that she had gone on a visit to some friends at a distance, but that the
letter should be given to her on her return. I had not, therefore, been
able to inform her of what we had been compelled to do, as I would have
wished; but thus, without preparation, quite unexpectedly, I had been met
by her in the public street, acting the poor dogs' butcher, with the
implements of my business before me, and a dirty cur growling and gnawing
his dinner at my feet. What made the matter more serious, for serious it
seemed to me, though I can but smile _now_ to think why such a thing
should have made me uncomfortable, was, that the whole scene had taken
place in so open a part, with so many grand and gay dogs all round, to be
witnesses of my confusion. I did not reflect that, of all the puppies who
were strutting past, there was probably not one who could have remembered
so common an event as the passing of a butcher's barrow; and if they
looked at me at all, it was, doubtless, for no other reason than to avoid
running against my greasy coat and spoiling their fine clothes. These
confessions will prove to you that I was very far from being a wise dog
or even a sensible one; all the books I had read had, as yet, served no
other purpose than that of feeding my vanity and making me believe I was
a very superior animal; and you may learn from this incident, that those
who wish to make a proper figure in the world, and play the part they are
called on to perform in a decent manner, must study their lesson in the
world itself, by mingling with their fellows, for books alone can no more
teach such knowledge than it can teach a dog to swim without his going
into the water.

Nip and I had our dinner; and when it was over, my old friend went out to
procure a supply of meat for the next day's business. I sat at the window
with my nose resting on the ledge, at times watching some heavy clouds
which were rolling up the sky, as if to attend a great meeting overhead;
at another moment, looking at the curs in the streets, who were playing
all sorts of games, which generally turned into a fight, and often
staring at the house opposite without seeing a single stone in the wall,
but in their place, Fidas, and puppies with stiff collars, and barrows
with piles of meat, ready cut and skewered. I was awoke from this
day-dream by the voice of an old, but very clean doggess, inquiring if my
name was Mr. Job? I answered that I was so called, when she drew from her
pocket and gave me a pink-coloured note, which smelt like a nice garden,
and even brought one to my view as plainly as if it had suddenly danced
before me, and saying there was no reply, returned by the way she had
come.

I did not require to be told by whom it was sent. I knew the writing too
well. The neat folding, the small but clean address assured me that a
lady's paw had done it all, and every word of the direction--

  +---------------------------------------+
  |     MASTER JOB,                       |
  |                                       |
  |       In the Little Dogs' Street,     |
  |                                       |
  |  F.             LOWER CANEVILLE.      |
  +---------------------------------------+

spoke to me of Fida, and did not even need the F. in the corner to
convince me of the fact. With her permission, I here give you the
contents:--

    "MY DEAR JOB,


    "I am sorry I was away from home when your letter arrived, and
    would have told you I was going, but that I thought the news
    might cause you pain, as I, by some mischance, had got my
    tail jammed in a door, and was forced to leave home in order
    to visit a famous doctor, who lives at some distance. He
    fortunately cured me after a few days' illness, and the tail
    wags now as freely as ever, although it was very annoying, as
    well as ridiculous, to see me walking up and down the room
    with that wounded member so wrapped up that it was as thick as
    my whole body, and was quite a load to drag about.

    "But, dear Job, I do not write this to talk about myself,
    though I am forced to give you this explanation of my silence:
    what I wish is to say something about _you_. And to begin, as
    you have always been a good, kind dog, and listened to me
    patiently when I have praised, you must now be just as kind
    and good, and even more patient, because I am going to scold.

    "Dear Job, when I met you this morning in your new dress and
    occupation, I had not then read your letter. I had but just
    returned, and was taking a walk with my brother, who had
    arrived from abroad during my absence. I knew you at once, in
    spite of your change of costume, and though I did not
    particularly like the business you had chosen, I felt certain
    you had good reasons for having selected it. But when I looked
    in your face, instead of the smile of welcome which I expected
    from you, I could read nothing but shame, confusion, and
    annoyance. Why? dear Job, why? If you were _ashamed_ of your
    occupation, why had you chosen it? I suppose when you took it
    up, you resolved to do your duty in it properly; then why feel
    _shame_ because _your friend_ sees you, as you must have
    thought she would one day see you, since the nature of your
    new business carries you into different parts of the city?

    "But, dear Job, I feel certain, and I would like you to be
    equally sure, that there is no need of _shame_ in following
    any busines which is _honest_, and which can be carried on
    without doing injury to others. It is not the business,
    believe me, dear Job, which lowers a dog; _he himself_ is
    alone capable of _lowering_ himself, and one dog may be truly
    good and noble, though he drive a meat-barrow about the
    streets, while another may be a miserable, mean animal, though
    living in a palace and never soiling his paws.

    "I have a great deal more to say, my dear Job, upon this
    subject, but I must leave the rest till I see you. I have
    already crossed and recrossed my note, and may be most
    difficult to understand where I most want to be clear. Here is
    a nice open space, however, in the corner, which I seize on
    with pleasure to write myself most distinctly,


    "Your friend,

    "FIDA."

A variety of feelings passed through my mind as I read these lines. But
they were all lost in my wonder at Fida's cleverness in being able to
read my face, as if it had been a book. I was grateful to her for the
good advice she gave me, and now felt ashamed for having been ashamed
before. The best way I thought to prove my thankfulness would be to act
openly and naturally as Fida had pointed out, for I could not help
confessing, as my eyes looked again and again over her note, that she was
quite right, and that I had acted like a very silly animal.

I was interrupted during my reflections by the bursting of rain upon the
house-roofs, and the stream which rose from the streets as the large
drops came faster and faster down. I went to the door to look for my old
friend, but not a dog was to be seen. I was surprised at the sight of the
sky where I had observed the clouds rising a little while before, for now
those same clouds looked like big rocks piled one above another, with
patches of light shining through great caverns.

As I stared eagerly down the street, torrents of water poured from above,
which, instead of diminishing, seemed to be growing more terrible every
moment. I had never seen so fearful a storm. It did not appear like mere
rain which was falling; the water came down in broad sheets, and changed
the road into a river. I got more and more anxious about old Nip. It was
getting dark, and I knew he was not strong. My hope was that he had
taken shelter somewhere; but I could not rest, for I was sure he would
try and get home, if only to quiet me. While running in and out in my
anxiety--the water having meanwhile risen above the sill of the door, and
poured into our little house, where it was already above my paws--I spied
a dark figure crawling along the street, and with great difficulty making
way against the beating of the storm. I at once rushed out, and swimming
rather than running towards the object, I found my poor friend almost
spent with fatigue, and scarcely able to move, having a heavy load to
carry besides his own old limbs, which were not fit to battle with such a
tempest. I caught up his package; and assisting him as well as I was
able, we at length got to our cottage, though we were forced to get upon
the bench that stood by the wall to keep our legs out of the water. The
rain had now become a perfect deluge. A stream of water went hissing down
the street, and rushed in and out of the houses as if they had been
baths.

When Nip recovered breath, he told me that terrible things were happening
in the parts of the city by the waterside. The river had swollen so much,
that some kennels had been carried away by the current, and it was
impossible to learn how many poor dogs had been drowned. This news made
me jump again from the bench where I had been sitting.

"What is it?" said Nip.

"I am going out, Nip," replied I. "I must not be idle here, when I can,
perhaps, be of use somewhere else."

"That is true," said Nip; "but, Job, strong as you are, the storm is
stronger."

"Yes, Nip," answered I; "but there are dogs weaker than myself who may
require such assistance as I can give them, and it is not a time for a
dog to sit with his tail curled round him, when there are
fellow-creatures who may want a helping paw. So good-bye, old friend; try
and go to sleep; you have done your duty as long as your strength let
you, it is now for me to do mine." Without waiting for a reply, I rushed
out at the door.

It did not need much exertion to get through our street or the next, or
the next after that, for as they all sloped downwards, the water more
than once took me off my legs, and carried me along. Sad as Nip's news
had been, I was not prepared for the terrible scene which met my eyes
when I got near the river. The houses at the lower part of the street I
had reached had been swept away by the torrent, and a crowd of shivering
dogs stood looking at the groaning river as it rolled past in great waves
as white as milk, in which black objects, either portions of some kennel
or articles of furniture, were floating. Every now and then, a howl would
break from a doggess in the crowd, as a dead body was seen tossed about
by the angry water; and the same dolorous cries might be heard from
different quarters, mixed up with the roar of the river.

While standing with a group of three or four, staring with astonishment
at the frightful scene, uncertain what to do, a howl was heard from
another direction, so piercing that it made many of us run to learn the
cause. The pale light showed us that the torrent had snapped the supports
of a house at some distance from the river's bank, but which the swollen
stream had now reached, and carried away at least half the building. By
some curious chance, the broken timbers had become fixed for the moment
in the boiling water, which, angry at the obstruction, was rushing round
or flying completely over them; and it was easy to see that in a very
short time the mass would be swept away. Upon the timbers thus exposed
were three little pups scarce two months old, yelping most dismally as
they crouched together, or crawled to the edge of their raft; while on
the floor of the ruin from which this side had been torn away, was their
poor mother, whose fearful howl had attracted us thither, and who was
running from side to side of the shattered hut as if she was frantic.

Great as the danger was, I could not bear to think the wretched mother
should see her little ones swallowed up by the stormy water, before her
very eyes, without a single attempt being made to save them. Although I
could scarcely hope even to reach them in safety, and in no case could
bring more than one of them to land at once, if I even got so far, I
resolved to make the trial. Better save one, I thought, than let all die.

Holding my breath, I launched into the current in the direction of the
raft, and soon found that I had not been wrong in calculating the
difficulties and dangers of the undertaking. It was not the water alone
which made the peril so great, though the eddies seemed at every moment
to be pulling me to the bottom, but there were so many things rushing
along with the stream as to threaten to crush me as they flew by; and had
they struck me, there is no doubt there would have been an end of my
adventures. Avoiding them all, though I know not how, I was getting near
the spot where the little pups were crying for their mother, when I felt
myself caught in an eddy and dragged beneath the water. Without losing
courage, but not allowing myself to breathe, I made a strong effort, and
at last, got my head above the surface again; but where was the raft?
Where were the helpless puppies? All had gone--not a trace was left to
tell where they had been--the river foamed over the spot that had held
them for a time, and was now rushing along as if boasting of its
strength.

Seeing my intentions thus defeated, I turned my head towards the shore,
resolving to swim to land. To my surprise, I found that I made no
progress. I put out all my strength--I fought with the water--I threw
myself forward--it was in vain--I could not move a paw's breadth against
the current. I turned to another point--I again used every exertion--all
was useless--I felt my tired limbs sink under me--I felt the stream
sweeping me away--my head turned round in the agony of that moment, and I
moaned aloud.

My strength was now gone--I could scarce move a paw to keep my head down
the river. A dark object came near--it was a large piece of timber,
probably a portion of some ruined building. Seizing it as well as my
weakness would permit me, I laid my paws over the floating wood, and,
dragging my body a little more out of the water, got some rest from my
terrible labours.

[Illustration: AFLOAT]

Where was I hurrying to? I knew not. Every familiar object must have been
long passed, but it was too obscure to make out anything except the angry
torrent. On, on I went, in darkness and in fear--yes, great fear, not of
death, but a fear caused by the strangeness of my position, and the
uncertainty before me; on, on, till the black shores seemed to fly from
each other, and the river to grow and grow until all land had
disappeared, and nothing but the water met my aching eyes. I closed them
to shut out the scene, and tried to forget my misery.

Had I slept? And what was the loud noise which startled me so that I had
nearly let go my hold? I roused myself--I looked around--I was tossing up
and down with a regular motion, but could see nothing clearly, I was no
longer carried forward so swiftly as before, but the dim light prevented
me making out the place I was now in.

Suddenly, a flash broke from the black clouds, and for a single moment
shed a blue light over everything. What a spectacle! All around, for
miles and miles and miles, was nothing but dancing water, like shining
hills with milky tops, but not a living creature beside myself to keep me
company, or say a kind word, or listen to me when I spoke, or pity me
when I moaned! Oh! who could tell what I then felt, what I feared, and
what I suffered! Alone! alone!

When I think, as I often do now, of that terrible scene, and figure to
myself my drenched body clinging to that piece of timber, I seem to feel
a strange pity for the miserable dog thus left, as it seemed, to die,
away from all his fellows, without a friendly howl raised, to show there
was a single being to regret his loss--and I cannot help at such times
murmuring to myself, as if it were some other animal, "Poor Job! poor
dog!"

I remember a dimness coming over my eyes after I had beheld that world of
water--I have a faint recollection of thinking of Fida--of poor Nip--of
the drowning puppies I had tried in vain, to save--of my passing through
the streets of Caneville with my meat-barrow, and wondering how I could
have been so foolish as to feel ashamed of doing so--and then--and
then--I remember nothing more.




PAINS AND PLEASURES.


When I again opened my eyes after the deep sleep which had fallen upon
me, morning was just breaking, and a grey light was in the sky and on the
clouds which dotted it all over.

As I looked round, you may well think, with hope and anxiety, still
nothing met my view but the great world of water, broken up into a
multitude of little hills. I now understood that I was on the sea, where
I had been borne by the rushing river; that sea of which I had often
read, but which I could form no idea about till this moment.

The sad thought struck me that I must stop there, tossed about by the
wind and beaten by the waves, until I should die of hunger, or that,
spent with fatigue, my limbs would refuse to sustain me longer, and I
should be devoured by some of the monsters of the deep, who are always on
the watch for prey.

Such reflections did not help to make my position more comfortable, and
it was painful enough in itself without them. It was certain, however,
that complaint or sorrow could be of no service, and might be just the
contrary, as the indulging in either would, probably, prevent my doing
what was necessary to try and save myself should an opportunity offer.

The grey light, in the meantime, had become warmer and warmer in its
tone, until the face of every cloud towards the east was tinged with
gold. While I was admiring the beautiful sight, for it was so beautiful
that it made me forget for a time my sad position, my eyes were caught
by the shining arch of the rising sun, as it sprang all of a sudden above
the surface of the sea. Oh! never shall I forget the view! Between me and
the brilliant orb lay a pathway of gold, which rose, and fell, and
glittered, and got at last so broad and dazzling, that my eyes could look
at it no longer. I knew it was but the sun's light upon the water, but it
looked so firm, that I could almost fancy I should be able to spring upon
it, and run on and on until I reached some friendly country. But alas!
there seemed little chance of such a thing happening as my ever reaching
land again.

As the sun got high up, and poured his rays on to the sea, I began to
feel a craving for food, and, though surrounded with water, yet the want
of some to drink. When the thirst came upon me, I at first lapped up a
few drops of the sea-water with avidity, but I soon found that it was not
fit to drink, and that the little I had taken only made my thirst the
greater. In the midst of my suffering, a poor bird came fluttering
heavily along, as if his wings were scarce able to support his weight.
Every little object was interesting to me just then, and as I sat upon my
piece of timber I looked up at the trembling creature, and began
comparing his fate with my own. "Ah, Job," I said, half-aloud, "you
thought, perhaps, that you were the only unhappy being in the world. Look
at that poor fowl; there he is, far away from land, from his home, from
his friends, perhaps his little ones (for many birds have large
families), with tired wings, and not a piece of ground as broad as his
own tail for him to rest upon. He must go on, fatigued though he may be,
for if he fall, nothing can prevent his death; the water will pour among
his feathers, clog his wings, and not only prevent him ever rising more
into the air, but pull him down until his life is gone. So, Job, badly
off as you are just now, there is another, as you see, whose fate is
worse; and who shall say that in other places, where your eye cannot
reach, there are not others yet so very, very miserable, that they would
willingly, oh! how willingly! change places with you, or with that poor
fluttering bird?"

This talk with myself quieted me for a time, and I felt a certain joy
when I saw the bird slowly descend, and having spied my uncomfortable
boat, perch heavily on the other end of it. He did not do so until he had
looked at me with evident alarm; and, worn out as he was, and his heart
beating as though it would burst through his yellow coat, he still kept
his eyes fixed upon me, ready to take wing and resume his journey,
wherever he might be going, at the least motion I should make.

Some time passed over in this way; myself in the middle, and Dicky at the
end of the beam. We did not say a word to each other; for, as I spoke no
other language but my own, and he seemed about as clever as myself, we
merely talked with our eyes.

A thought now came into my head. My thirst returned, and I felt very
hungry. What if I should suddenly dart on little Dicky, and make a meal
of him? I did not consider at the instant that, by so doing, I should be
acting a very base part, for Dicky had placed confidence in me; and
killing him for trusting to my honour, and eating him because he was poor
and unfortunate, would be neither a good return nor a kind action.
Luckily for Dicky, and even for myself, although he was not able to speak
foreign languages, he could read my meaning in my eyes; for when I turned
them slowly towards him, just to see my distance, he took alarm, and rose
into the air with a swiftness which I envied. I am sorry to say my only
thought at first was the having lost my dinner: but as I watched him
through the air, flying on and on, until he diminished to a misty speck,
and then disappeared, my better feelings came back to me and said, "Oh,
Job! I would not have believed this of you!" "But," replied my empty
stomach, "I am so hungry; without food, I shall fall in, and Job will
die." "Let Job die," said my better self again, in a cold, firm tone;
"let Job rather die, than do what he would live to feel ashamed of."

As the day wore on, I began to think that death only could relieve me;
and the thought was very, very painful. Nothing before and around but the
salt waves--nothing above but the blue sky and hot sun--not even a cloud
on which to rest my aching eyes. The want of water which I could drink
was now becoming terrible. When I thought of it, my head began to turn;
my brain seemed to be on fire; and the public basins of Caneville, where
only the lowest curs used to quench their thirst, danced before me to add
to my torture; for I thought, though I despised them once, how I could
give treasures of gold for one good draught at the worst of them just
then.

There is not a misfortune happens to us from which we may not derive good
if our hearts are not quite hardened, and our minds not totally
impenetrable. Great as my sufferings were during this incident of my
life, I learnt from it much that has been useful to me in after years.
But even if it had taught me no other truth than that we should despise
nothing which is good and wholesome, merely because it is ordinary, I
should not have passed through those sad hours in vain. We dogs are so
apt, when in prosperity, to pamper our appetites, and, commonly speaking,
to turn up our noses at simple food, that we require, from time to time,
to be reminded on how little canine life can be preserved. All have not
had the advantage of the lesson which I was blessed with; for it _was_ a
blessing; one that has so impressed itself on my memory, that sometimes
when I fancy I cannot eat anything that is put before me, because it is
too much done, or not done enough, or has some other real or supposed
defect, I say to myself, "Job, Job, what would you have given for a tiny
bit of the worst part of it when you were at sea?" And then I take it at
once, and find it excellent.

As the sun got lower, clouds, the same in shape that had welcomed him in
the morning, rose up from the sea as if to show their pleasure at his
return. He sunk into the midst of them and disappeared; and then the
clouds came up and covered all the sky. I suffered less in the cool
evening air, and found with pleasure that it was growing into a breeze.
My pleasure soon got greater still, for, with the wind, I felt some drops
of rain! The first fell upon my burning nose; but the idea of fresh water
was such a piece of good fortune, that I dared not give loose to my joy
until the drops began to fall thickly on and around me, and there was a
heavy shower. I could scarcely give my rough coat time to get thoroughly
wet before I began sucking at it. It was not nice at first, being mixed
with the salt spray by which I had been so often covered; but as the rain
still came down, the taste was fresher every moment, and soon got most
delicious. I seemed to recover strength as I licked my dripping breast
and shoulders; and though evening changed to dark night, and the rain was
followed by a strong wind, which got more and more fierce, and appeared
to drive me and my friendly log over the waves as if we had been bits of
straw, I felt no fear, but clung to the timber, and actually gave way to
hope.

I must have slept again, for daylight was once more in the sky when I
unclosed my eyes. Where was I now? My sight was dim, and though I could
see there was no longer darkness, I could make out nothing else. Was I
still on the rolling water? Surely not; for I felt no motion. I passed my
paw quickly across my eyes to brush away the mist which covered them. I
roused myself. The beam of wood was still beneath me, but my legs surely
touched the ground! My sight came back to me, and showed me, true, the
sea stretching on, on, on, in the distance, but showed me also that
_I_--oh, joy!--_I_ had reached the shore!

When my mind was able to believe the truth, I sprang on to the solid land
with a cry which rings in my ears even now. What though my weakness was
so great that I tumbled over on to the beach and filled my mouth with
sand? I could have licked every blade of grass, every stone, in my
ecstacy; and when forced to lie down from inability to stand upon my
legs, I drove my paws into the earth, and held up portions to my face, to
convince myself that I was indeed on shore. I did not trouble myself much
with questions as to how I got there. I did not puzzle my brain to
inquire whether the wind which had risen the evening before, and which I
felt driving me on so freely, had at length chased me to the land. All I
seemed to value was the fact that I was indeed _there_; and all I could
persuade myself to say or think was the single, blessed word, SAVED!

I must have lain some time upon the sand before I tried again to move,
for when I scrambled on to my legs the sun was high and hot--so hot, that
it had completely dried my coat, and made me wish for shelter. Dragging
myself with some trouble to a mound of earth, green and sparkling with
grass and flowers, I managed to get on top of it; and when I had
recovered from the effort, for I was very weak, looked about me with
curiosity to observe the place where I had been thrown.

The ground was level close to where I stood, but at a little distance it
rose into gentle grassy hills, with short bushes here and there; and just
peeping over them, were the tops of trees still farther off, with
mountains beyond, of curious forms and rich blue colour.

While considering this prospect, I suddenly observed an animal on one of
the hills coming towards me, and I lay down at full length on the grass
to examine who he might be. As he drew nearer, I was surprised at his
form and look (I afterwards learnt that he was called an ape), and
thought I had never beheld so queer a being. He had a stick in his right
hand, and a bundle in his left, and kept his eyes fixed on the ground as
he walked along.

When he was quite close, I rose again, to ask him where I could procure
food and water, of which I felt great want. The motion startled him; and
stepping back, he took his stick in both hands as if to protect himself.
The next moment he put it down, and coming up to me, to my surprise
addressed me in my own language, by inquiring how I came there. My
astonishment was so great at first that I could not reply; and when I did
speak, it was to ask him how it happened that he used my language. To
this he answered, that he had been a great traveller in his day, and
among other places had visited my city, where he had studied and been
treated kindly for a long time; that he loved dogs, and should be only
too happy now to return some of the favours he had received. This speech
opened my heart; but before he would let me say more, he untied his
bundle, and spread what it contained before me. As there were several
savoury morsels, you may believe I devoured them with great
appetite--indeed, I hope Master Ximio's opinion of me was not formed from
the greediness with which I ate up his provisions.

After I had refreshed myself at a spring of water, we sat down, and I
told him my story. He heard me patiently to the end, when, after a pause,
he exclaimed--

"Come, Job, come with me. A few days' rest will restore your strength,
and you can return to your own city. It is not a long journey over land;
and with stout limbs like those, you will soon be able to get back and
lick old Nip again."

I need not dwell upon this part of my story, although I could fill many
pages with the narration of Master Ximio's dwelling, and above all of his
kindness; he kept me two or three days at his house, and would have
detained me much longer, but, besides that I was anxious to return to
Nip, I felt certain pains in my limbs, which made me wish to get back to
Caneville, as I did not like the idea of troubling my good friend with
the care of a sick dog. He was so kind-hearted, however, and showed me
such attention, that I was afraid to say anything about my aches, lest he
should insist on keeping me. He seemed to think it was quite natural I
should desire to get home; and when he saw my impatience to depart, he
assisted to get me ready.

Having supplied me with everything I could want on my journey, and
pressed upon me many gifts besides, he led me by a little path through
the wood, until we came to the sea. "Along this shore," he said, "your
road lies. Follow the winding of the coast until you reach the mouth of a
broad river, the waters of which empty themselves into the sea. That
river is the same which runs through your city. Keep along its banks and
you will shortly arrive at Caneville, where I hope you may find
everything you wish--for I am sure you wish nothing that is unreasonable.
If pleasure awaits you there, do not, in the midst of it, forget Ximio.
If, against my hopes, you should find yourself unhappy, remember there is
a home always open to you here, and a friend who will do his best to
make you forget sorrow. Farewell!"

I was greatly moved at his words and the memory of his kindness. We
licked each other tenderly--murmured something, which meant a good deal
more than it expressed--and then we parted. I turned my head often as I
went, and each time beheld Ximio waving his hand in the air; at last a
dip in the ground hid him from my sight, and I continued my journey
alone.

It was fortunate I had been well furnished with provisions by my good
friend, for as I proceeded, I found the pains in my limbs so great that I
could scarce drag one leg after the other, and should probably have died
of hunger, as I had no strength left to procure food, and did not meet
with any more Ximios to assist me had I stood in need. With long rests,
from which I rose each time with greater difficulty,--with increasing
anxiety as I drew near my home, to learn all that had taken place during
my absence,--and yet with legs which almost refused to carry me; after
many days that seemed to have grown into months,--they were so full of
care and suffering,--I toiled up a hill, which had, I thought, the power
of getting steeper as I ascended. At length I reached the top, and to my
joy discovered the well-known city of Caneville, lying in the plain
beneath me. The sight gave me strength again. I at once resumed my
journey, and trotted down the hill at a pace which surprised myself. As I
got warm with my exertions, the stiffness seemed by degrees to leave my
limbs; I ran, I bounded along, over grass and stone through broad patches
of mud which showed too plainly to what height the river had lately
risen, out of breath, yet with a spirit that would not let me flag, I
still flew on, nor slackened my speed until I had got to the first few
houses of the town. There I stopped indeed, and fell; for it then seemed
as if my bones were all breaking asunder. My eyes grew dim; strange
noises sounded in my ears; and though I fancied I could distinguish
voices which I knew, I could neither see nor speak; I thought it was my
dying hour.

From the mouths of Nip and others I learnt all which then occurred, and
all that had passed after my supposed loss on the night of the
inundation. How my noble conduct (for so they were kind enough to call
it, though I only tried to do my duty, and failed) had been made known to
the great dogs of Caneville, and how they had sought after me to thank me
for it;--how they had offered rewards to those who assisted in my
recovery;--how, when it was supposed that I was dead, they took Nip from
our modest home, and placed him in this present house, fitted with
everything that could make him comfortable for life;--how, when all hope
was gone, my unexpected appearance brought a crowd about me, each one
anxious to assist me in my distress, though some maliciously said, in
order to lay claim to the reward;--and how I was finally brought again to
my senses through the care of our clever canine doctors, and the kind
nursing of dear old Nip.

It was long, however, before I recovered my legs sufficiently to be able
to use them without support. My long exposure at sea, the want of food,
and the trouble I had gone through, during my involuntary voyage, had all
assisted to weaken me. But my anxiety to enjoy the fresh air again, took
me out into the streets directly it was thought safe for me to do so, and
with a pair of crutches beneath my arms, I managed to creep about.

Never shall I forget the first time this pleasure was allowed me. The
morning was so fresh and bright; the sun shone so gaily upon the houses;
the river, now reduced to its usual size, ran so cheerily along, that I
got into my old habit, and began to think they were all talking to me and
bidding me welcome after my long illness. Kind words were soon said to me
in right earnest, for before I had got half-way down the street, with old
Nip just behind me,--his hat still adorned with the band which he had
unwillingly put on when he thought me dead and gone, and which he had
forgotten to take off again,--the puppies ran from different quarters to
look up in my face and say, "How do you do, Job? I hope you are better,
Job." Many a polite dog took off his hat to bid me good morrow; and
praises more than I deserved, but which I heard with pleasure, came
softly to my ear, as I hobbled slowly along. Nip told me afterwards, that
there had been another in the crowd who kept a little back, and who,
though she said nothing, seemed to be more glad to see me than all the
rest. I had not seen her, nor did he mention her name, but that was not
necessary. My heart seemed to tell me that it could only have been Fida.

[Illustration: A WORTHY SUBJECT]




DUTY.


The idle life which I was compelled to spend gave me time for reflection,
and I believe my mind was more active during the few months my body was
on crutches than it had been for years previous. My thoughts received
little interruption from Nip, who, after having recounted the events
which had taken place during my absence, had little more to say. The
kindness of the great city dogs having removed all fear of want, or even
the necessity of labour, from our comfortable home, produced at first a
pleasing effect upon me; but as my strength returned, and I managed to
walk about the room without assistance, a desire for active employment
became quite necessary to my happiness.

"What have I done, Nip?" I would often say, as I took my usual exercise
in our modest parlour; "what have I done, Nip, that I should be clothed,
and fed, and housed, without labouring for such advantages, like the rest
of dog-kind? These paws, large and strong as they are, were never
intended for idleness; this back, broad as it is, was meant for some
other purpose than to show off a fine coat; this brain, which can reflect
and admire and resolve, had not such capabilities given to it in order
that they might be wasted in a life of ease. Work, Nip, work; such work
as a dog _can_ do should be sought after and done, for nothing can be
more shocking than to see an animal's powers, either of body or mind,
wasted away in idleness."

Nip replied but little, although he winked his eyes very vigorously. I
was used to his manner now, and could understand his meaning without the
necessity of words. Both his looks and gestures told me that he thought
as I did, and I only waited till I could use my own legs freely, to set
about a resolution I had been forming in my mind.

It was a happy day when I could again mix in the bustle of the streets,
and find my strength once more restored. The first use I made of it was
to go to the great house where the chief dogs of Caneville are accustomed
to sit during a certain time of the day to judge matters relating to the
city. When I arrived, they were almost alone, and I was therefore able to
present myself without delay, and explain my business.

I began by thanking them for what they had done for me and my old friend
Nip, in providing us with a house and with so many comforts. I told them,
although the goodness of Nip rendered him worthy of every attention, as
he had grown old in a useful and laborious life, I had no such claims. I
was still young--my strength had come back to me--I had no right to eat
the food of idleness where so many dogs, more deserving than I, were
often in want of a bone, but whose modesty prevented them making known
their necessities. I would still thankfully enjoy the home, which the
kindness of the great animals of Caneville had furnished me, but they
must permit me to work for it--they must permit me to do something which
might be useful to the city in return, for I should devour the fare
provided for me with a great deal more appetite, if I could say to myself
when I felt hungry, "Job, brother Job, eat your dinner, for you have
_earned_ it."

The assembly of dogs heard me with great attention to the end; not a bark
interrupted my little speech, not a movement disturbed my attention. I
was pleased to see that tails wagged with approbation when I had
concluded, and was charmed to hear the chief among them, who was white
with age, express himself _delighted_, yes, that was the word, delighted
with my spirit.

"We are pleased, Job," he said, at the end of his reply, "we are pleased
to observe that there are yet _true dogs_ in Caneville; there have been
animals calling themselves so, whose character was so base, and whose
manner was so cringing, that they have brought disrepute upon the name;
and we are sorry to say that in many countries the title of a _dog_ is
given to the vilest and most worthless creatures. All the finer qualities
of our race have been lost sight of, because a few among us have been
mean or wicked; and a whole nation has been pointed at with scorn,
because some of its members have acted badly. We are happy, Job, to find
in you a 'worthy subject,' and we shall be glad to give you all
assistance in choosing an occupation in which you may employ your time,
and be of use to your fellow-creatures."

I should not have repeated this to you, as it is not, perhaps, necessary
for my story, but that I wished to correct an error, which many have
made, concerning the character of this very dog. He has been described by
several as cold, and proud, and sometimes cruel; and yet to me he was
warm, and friendly, and most kind. Do not you think when we hear animals
grumbling against their fellows, it would be just as well to think who
the grumblers are, before we form our opinions? or, at least, hear the
opinions of many before we decide ourselves?

I need not tell you all that passed between us, and what was said by this
dog and by that, about the choice of my occupation. It was agreed at last
that I should be appointed chief of the Caneville police, as the place
had become vacant through the death of a fine old mastiff some days
previous. I wonder whether he was a relation of my own, for I have
already told you my mother belonged to that great family. He had received
some severe wounds when trying to capture a fierce beast of the name of
Lupo, the terror of the city, and he had died from the effects of them in
spite of all the care of the doctors. What made the matter worse, was the
fact that Lupo was yet at liberty, and many dogs were afraid to go out
at night for fear of meeting with this terrible animal.

To tell the truth, I was rather pleased than otherwise that Lupo had
still to be taken. It was agreeable to me to think that work, difficult
work, was to be done, and that _I_ was called upon to do it. I felt proud
at the idea that the animals of the great city of Caneville would look up
to me, _to me_, poor Job, as the dog chosen to releive them of their
fears, and restore security to their streets. "Job," I cried out to
myself, in a firm tone, "Job, here is a chance of being useful to your
country; let no danger, no fear, even of death, stop you in the good
work. Job, you are called upon to perform a duty, and let nothing, mind
_nothing_, turn you from it."

After I had become acquainted with all the dogs who were under my
command, I spent much time each day in exercising them, and in
endeavouring by kind words, and by my own example, to make them attend
strictly to their work. I was pleased to observe that I succeeded. Some,
who were pointed out to me as difficult to manage, became my most
faithful followers, and I had not been two months in my employment before
all were so devoted to me, that I believe they would have died to serve
me.

In all this time, nothing had been heard of the terrible Lupo, and all my
inquiries procured no information concerning where he was to be found. I
learned that he was not a native of Caneville, although his father once
belonged to the city. He was born in a country beyond the great wood, and
his mother came from a fierce tribe of wolves, who, although they a
little resemble dogs in appearance, and speak a very similar language,
are much more ferocious, and seem to look upon the whole canine family as
natural enemies.

The opinion began to spread in Caneville that Lupo had at length left the
city, and the inhabitants, by degrees, recovered their usual quiet; when,
suddenly, the alarm spread more widely than before; as, two nights in
succession, some rich dogs were robbed and ill-treated, and one of them
was lamed by the ferocity of the chief of the terrible band who had
attacked them, and whose description convinced me it was Lupo.

These accounts caused me much pain, as I had neither been able to prevent
the attacks, nor discover the animals who had made them. In my desire to
find out and capture the robbers, I could scarcely take food or rest. I
managed to sleep a little in the day-time, and at night, dressed in the
simplest manner, so as to excite no attention, I wandered quietly from
street to street, stopping to listen to the slightest noise, and going in
any direction that I heard a murmur. One or two of my dogs generally
followed at a distance, ready to assist me if I called for help.

It was a fine night. The moon and stars were brilliant in the sky, and
made the blue all the deeper from their own bright rays. I had been
already two hours crawling through the lower parts of the city, and was
mounting the hill which led to a fine building where my steps often
carried me--sometimes without my intending it--in order to watch over the
safety of those who slept within. It was the house of Fida--that Fida who
had been to me so kind, so tender; that Fida, who so patiently softened
down my rudeness, and had tried to teach me to know what was good by
letting me become her friend.

I had nearly reached the top of the hill, and paused an instant to
observe the bright light and dark shadows which the house displayed, as
the moon fell upon it, or some portion of the building interposed.
Profound sleep had fallen upon the city. The river might be seen from the
spot where I was standing, running swiftly along; and so deep was the
silence that you could even hear the gush of the water as it fretted
round some large stones in the centre of the stream.

Suddenly there rose into the air from the ground above me, the sharp,
clear howl of a female voice, and at the same instant the sound of a
rattle broke upon my ear as a signal of alarm. I sprang up the few feet
which were between me and the house with the speed of lightning, and
turning rapidly the corner of the building, reached the principal
entrance. One look told me everything: at an upper window, in a loose
dress, was Fida herself, springing the rattle which she held in her paw,
with a strength that fear alone could have given her; and below, where I
myself stood, were four or five dogs differently engaged, but evidently
trying to get into the house.

A kick from my right leg sent one of them to the ground, and, with my
clenched paw, I struck a blow at the second. Never do I remember feeling
such strength within me, such a resolution to attack twenty dogs if it
were necessary, although the next minute I might be torn in pieces. I
have sometimes asked myself whether the presence of Fida had anything to
do with it, or if a sense of duty only inspired me. I have never been
able to reply to the question in a satisfactory manner. I only know that
the fact was as I say, and that the blow I gave was surprising even to
myself; my paw caught the animal precisely under his chin, and sent him
flying backwards, with his nose in the air and his hat behind him; and as
the moon shone brilliantly upon his upturned face, I recognised the
features described to me as those of Lupo. He lay so still upon the
ground that I thought he must be killed; so, leaving him for a moment, I
pursued some others who were running off in the distance, but did not
succeed in catching them. I said a few cheering words to Fida at the
window, and returned to the spot of my encounter with Lupo; but instead
of that terrible beast, found some of my own followers, the father of
Fida, and one or two servants, who had been roused by the tumult, and had
come out to learn the cause. Lupo was nowhere to be seen. He had either
partly recovered from the blow, and had managed to crawl away, or had
been dragged off by some of his troop.

Nothing could have been more fortunate to me than this night's adventure.
The father of Fida, who had seen the attack from his window, was the head
of one of the best families of dogs in Caneville, and being, besides,
very rich, he enjoyed great power. He was so pleased with what I had
done, that he not only took a great liking to me himself, but he spoke
of my conduct in the highest terms to the great assembly. I received
public thanks; I was admitted to the honour which I now hold, that of
forming one of the second assembly of the city; I was loaded with rich
presents, and equally rich praise; and I may also date from that night,
the obtaining the richest gift of all, the gift which has made the
happiness of my best years; I mean the possession of my wife, the
beautiful Fida.

[Illustration: A SEVERE BLOW]

It is true that I did not procure that felicity at once. There were many
difficulties to be got over before the noble spaniel would think of
allowing his daughter to become the wife of plain Mr. Job. His son, also,
of whom I have spoken previously, could not bear, at first, the idea of
his sister not marrying some one as noble as herself, and thought, very
naturally, that she was far too good to have her fortunes united with
mine. Fida herself, however, was so firm, and yet so tender; so
straightforward, and yet so modest, that she finally broke down all
opposition. She persuaded her father that no title could be more noble
than the one I had acquired, that of "Honest Job;" she won over her
brother, by slily asking him, which among his grand companions could have
met a whole band of fierce dogs, with Lupo at their head, and,
single-pawed, could have conquered them all? By degrees, every objection
was cleared away, and Fida became mine.

The chief interest of my life terminates here; for although, in my
position as head of the police, I had many other adventures, they were
too much alike, and of too common an order, to be worth relating. Before
I close, however, I must mention a circumstance which occurred shortly
after my battle with the robbers, as it is curious in itself, and refers
to an animal of whom I have before spoken.

I was quietly walking along a bye-street of Caneville, when a miserable,
thin, little puppy came behind me, and gently pulled my coat. On turning
round to ask him what he wanted, he begged me in the most imploring tone
to come and see his father, who was very ill.

"And who is your father, little pup?" I inquired.

"His name is Lupo," said the thin dog, in a trembling voice.

"Lupo!" I cried out in surprise. "But do you not know who I am, and that
I am forced to be your father's greatest enemy?"

"I know, I know," the pup replied; "but father told me to come and seek
_you_, for that you were good, and would not harm him, if you knew he was
so miserable." And here the little dog began howling in a way which moved
me.

"Go on," I said, after a moment; "go on; I will follow you."

As the little dog ran before, through some of the low and miserable parts
of the city, the idea once came into my head that perhaps this was a
scheme of Lupo's to get me into his power. But the puppy's grief had been
too real to allow me to believe, young as he was, that he could be acting
a part; so with a stout resolution I went forward.

We arrived at a low and dirty kennel, where only the greatest misery
could bear to live. We passed through a hole, for so it appeared, rather
than a doorway, and I found myself in a little room, lit by a break in
the wall. On the single poor bed lay a wretched object, gasping for
breath, while a ragged pup, somewhat older than my little guide, had
buried his face in the clothes at the bottom of the bed. Three other tiny
creatures, worn to the bone with poverty and want of food, came crowding
round me, in a way that was piteous to behold; and with their looks, not
words, for they said nothing, asked me to do something for their
miserable parent. I procured from a neighbouring tavern a bason of broth
with which I succeeded in reviving the once terrible Lupo; but it was
only a flash before life departed for ever. In broken words, he
recommended to my care the poor little objects round. Bad as he was, he
still had feeling for them, and it was easy to observe that at this sad
moment his thoughts were more of _them_ than of himself; for when I
promised to protect them, he pressed my paw with his remaining strength
to his hot lips, moaned faintly, and expired.

[Illustration: CONSOLATION]

My tale is over. Would that it had been more entertaining, more
instructive. But the incidents of my career have been few, and my path,
with the one or two exceptions I have described, has been a smooth one. I
have heard it said that no history of a life, however simple, is without
its lesson. If it be so, then perhaps some good may be derived from mine.
If it teach the way to avoid an error, or correct a fault; if any portion
of it win a smile from a sad heart, or awake a train of serious thought
in a gay one, my dog's tale will not have been unfolded in vain.

THE END.

London; Thomas Harrild, Printer, 13, Salisbury Square, Fleet Street.




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  12. CABIN BY THE WAYSIDE.                                CAMPBELL.
  13. MEMOIRS OF A DOLL.                                     BESSET.
  14. THE BLACK PRINCESS.                                    BESSET.
  15. EMIGRANT'S LOST SON.                               G. H. WALL.
  16. ROBINSON THE YOUNGER.                                    HICK.
  18. AMY CARLTON; OR, FIRST DAYS AT SCHOOL.          ANON.
  19. LAURA AND ELLEN.                                        ALLEN.
  20. ROBINSON CRUSOE.                                        DEFOE.
  23. LAURA TEMPLE.                                          BOWMAN.
  24. LITTLE FOUNDLING.                                 MRS. MYRTLE.
  25. SPIRIT OF THE HOLLY.                                MRS. OWEN.
  26. POETRY OF THE BEST AUTHORS.                            BOWMAN.
  27. HARRY AND HIS HOMES.                                     ANON.
  28. VIOLET.                                              M'INTOSH.
  29. THE LAMPLIGHTER.                                      CUMMINS.
  30. THE LOFTY AND LOWLY.                                 M'INTOSH.
  31. OUR NATIVE LAND.                                       WILSON.


ROUTLEDGE'S TWO-AND-SIXPENNY REWARD OR GIFT-BOOKS.

_Or, with gilt edges, price Three Shillings. Fcap. 8vo. Illustrated by
the best artists. Cloth extra, and gilt._

  1. ARBELL. By JANE W. HOOPER. Illustrated by GODWIN.
  2. EDA MORTON AND HER COUSINS. By M. BELL. Illustrated by BIRKET FOSTER.
  3. ALLEN'S LIFE OF NELSON. With Steel Portrait.
  4. MACFARLANE'S LIFE OF WELLINGTON. Illustrated by JOHN GILBERT.
  5. MACFARLANE'S LIFE OF MARLBOROUGH. Illustrated by JOHN GILBERT.
  6. OSLER'S LIFE OF LORD EXMOUTH. With Steel Portrait and Maps.
  7. GILBERT THE ADVENTURER. By PETER PARLEY. With Engravings.
  8. KALOOLAH: OR, AFRICAN ADVENTURES. With Coloured Plates.


ROUTLEDGE'S EIGHTEENPENNY JUVENILES.

_Square 16mo, cloth gilt. Illustrated by John Gilbert, Absolon, Foster,
etc._

  1. Peasant and the Prince, by Harriet Martineau.
  2. Crofton Boys, by Harriet Martineau.
  3. Feats on the Fiord, by Harriet Martineau.
  4. Settlers at Home, by Harriet Martineau.
  5. Holiday Ramblers, or the School Vacation, by Elizabeth Grant.
  6. Little Drummer, a Tale of the Russian War.
  7. Frank, by Maria Edgeworth.
  8. Rosamond, by Maria Edgeworth.
  9. Harry and Lucy, Little Dog Trusty, The Cherry Orchard, etc. by Maria
     Edgeworth.
  10. A Hero, or Philip's Book, by the author of Olive.

LONDON: GEORGE ROUTLEDGE AND CO., FARRINGDON STREET.


  Transcriber's notes:

  No changes to the original spelling were made.

  The following duplicated words were corrected.
  Page 16: who who corrected to who.
  Page 44: near near corrected to near.






