Happy Days for Boys and Girls - Various 7 стр.

Sir Thomas Dick Lander, who for many years resided at Grange House, Edinburgh, had a fine dog of the St. Bernard breed presented to him. Its bark was so loud that it could be distinguished at the distance of a mile. Its bark once led to its recovery, when stolen by some carters. Bass, as the dog was named, had been missing for some time, when it was brought back to Grange House by a letter-carrier, who said that in going along a certain street, he heard a barking inside a yard, and at once recognized the voice of Bass. He knocked at the gate, writes Sir Thomas, and immediately said to the owner of the premises,

You have got Sir Thomas Landers big dog.

The man denied it.

But I know you have, continued the letter-carrier. I am certain that I heard the bark of Sir Thomass big dog; for there is no other dog in or about all Edinburgh that has such a bark.

The man then admitted that he had a large dog, which he had bought for a trifle from a couple of coal carters; and at last, with great reluctance, he gave up the dog to the letter-carrier, who brought him home here.

Sir Thomas, after describing many of Basss characteristics, then proceeds:

He took a particular fancy for one of the postmen who delivers letters here, though he was not the man whom I have already had occasion to mention. It was the duty of this postman I now allude to, besides delivering letters, to carry a letter-bag from one receiving house to another, and this big bag he used to give Bass to carry. Bass always followed that man through all the villas in the neighborhood where he had deliveries to make, and he invariably parted with him opposite to the gate of the Convent of St. Margarets, and returned home.

When our gate was shut, to prevent his following the postman, the dog always leaped a high wall to get after him. One day, when the postman was ill, or detained by some accidental circumstance, he sent a man in his place. Bass went up to the man, curiously scanning his face, whilst the man retired from the dog, by no means liking his appearance, and very anxious to decline all acquaintance with him. But as the man left the place, Bass followed him, showing strong symptoms that he was determined to have the post-bag. The man did all he could to keep the possession of it. But at length Bass, seeing that he had no chance of getting possession of the bag by civil entreaty, raised himself on his hind legs, and putting a great fore paw on each of the mans shoulders, he laid him flat on his back in the road, and quietly picking up the bag, he proceeded peaceably on his wonted way. The man, much dismayed, arose and followed the dog, making, every now and then, an ineffectual attempt to coax him to give it up.

At the first house he came to he told his fears and the dilemma he was in; but the people comforted him by telling him that the dog always carried the bag. Bass walked with the man to all the houses at which he delivered letters, and along the road till he came to the gate of St. Margarets, where he dropped the bag; and making his bow to the man, he returned home.

THE FLIGHT OF THE BIRDS

FOR THE CHILDREN

REASON AND INSTINCT

ARE dogs endowed with reason? As you grow up, you will spend many happy hours in the contemplation of this interesting question. It does sometimes seem as if there could be no possible doubt that dogs, as well as horses, elephants, and some other of the higher animals, are gifted with the dawn of reason, so extraordinary are some of their acts.

It is but a few days since a dog in Vermont saved a house from burning, and possibly the inmates. The dog discovered the fire in the kitchen, flew to his masters apartment, leaped upon his bed, and so aroused the people to a sense of their danger.

As I was walking out one frosty morning with a large Newfoundland dog, says the Rev. J. C. Atkinson, I observed the animals repeated disappointment on putting his head down to drink at sundry ice-covered pools. After one of these disappointments, I broke the ice with my foot for my thirsty companion. The next time Tiger was thirsty, he did not wait for me to break the ice, but with his foot, or, if too strong, by jumping upon it, he obtained water for himself.

Here seems to be the manifestation of a desire to learn from observation.

After the battle of Fredericksburg, it fell to my duty to search a given district for any dead or wounded soldiers there might be left, and to bring relief. Near an old brick dwelling I discovered a soldier in gray who seemed to be dead. Lying by his side was a noble dog, with his head flat upon his masters neck. As I approached, the dog raised his eyes to me good-naturedly, and began wagging his tail; but he did not change his position. The fact that the animal did not growl, that he did not move, but, more than all, the intelligent, joyful expression of his face, convinced me that the man was only wounded, which proved to be the case. A bullet had pierced his throat, and faint from the loss of blood, he had fallen down where he lay. His dog had actually stopped the bleeding from the wound by laying his head across it. Whether this was casual or not, I cannot say. But the shaggy coat of the faithful creature was completely matted with his masters blood.

Strange as these facts may appear, we should not confound INSTINCT with intelligence which comes from REASON. There is a wide difference between them. Before long I propose to discuss this matter to some extent, in an article which I have already begun.

TOUCH NOT

CHILDREN

CHILDREN

THE WHITE BUTTERFLY

VERY slowly and wearily over road and hedge flew a white butterfly one calm May evening; its wings had been torn and battered in its flight from eager pursuers, who little cared that their pleasure was anothers pain. On, on, went the fugitive, until it came to a little garden so sweet and quiet that it rested from its flight and said, Here, at least, I shall find peace; these gentle flowers will give me shelter. Then, with eager swiftness, it flew to a stately peony. Oh, give me shelter, thou beautiful flower! it murmured as it rested for a second upon its crimson head a second only, for, with a jerk and an exclamation of disgust, the peony cast the butterfly to the ground. With a low sigh it turned to the pansy near. Well, the pansy wished to be kind, but the butterfly was really very tattered and dirty; and then velvet soils so easily that she must beg to be excused. The wall-flower, naturally frank and good-natured, had been so tormented all day by those troublesome bees that she solemnly vowed she would do nothing more for anybody.

The tulips were asleep; and the other flowers, trying to emulate fair Lady Rose, held their heads so very high that they, of course, did not hear the low, soft cry, Oh, will no one give me shelter? At last there came an answer, I will, gladly, in a shy and trembling tone, as though fearing to be presumptuous, from a thick thorny bush which helped to protect the more dainty beauties from the rough blasts of a sometimes too boisterous wind; in consideration of which service the flowers considered the briar as a good, useful sort of thing, respectable enough in its common way, but not as an equal or associate, you understand. With gratitude the forlorn butterfly rested all night in the bosom of one of its simple white blossoms.

When night had gone and the bright sun came gliding up from the east, calling on Nature to awake, the flowers raised their heads in all the pride of renewed beauty and saluted one another. Where was the forlorn butterfly? Ah! where? They saw it no more; but over the white blossom where it had rested there hovered a tiny fairy in shining, changing sheen, her wand sparkling with dewdrops. She looked down on the flowers with gentle, reproachful eye, while they bent low in wonder and admiration.

Who is it? they asked. How beautiful! how lovely!

The fairy heard them with a smile, and said, Fair flowers, I was a shabby butterfly; what I am, you see. I came to you poor and weary; and because I was poor and weary you shut me out from your hearts.

The pansy and the wall-flower bent their heads in sorrow, and Lady Rose blushed with shame.

If I had only known! muttered the peony; but who would have thought it?

Who indeed? laughed the fairy; but learn, proud peony, that he who thinks always of self loses much of lifes sweetness far more than he ever suspects; for goodness is as the dew of the heart, and yieldeth refreshment and happiness, even if it win no other recompense. But it is meet that it should be rewarded. Behold, all of you! and the fairy touched with her wand the white blossom on which she had rested, saying, For thy sweetness be thou loved for ever! At these words a thrill of happiness stirred the sap of the rough, neglected briar, and a soft, lovely blush suffused the petals of its flowers, and from its green leaves came forth an exquisite odor, perfuming the whole garden and eclipsing the other flowers in their pride.

Then the fairy rose in the air, and hovering over her resting-place for a moment ere she vanished said, Such is the reward of goodness. Fare thee well, sweet briar!

WORKING IS BETTER THAN WISHING

NOW then, Tom, lad, whats up? in trouble again? asked a good-natured sailor of his messmate, one snowy day on the wide Atlantic.

The boy was leaning moodily against the bulwarks of the vessel a pleasant, ruddy young fellow of fourteen, but with a cloud on his face which looked very like discontent.

Snow was falling heavily, but he did not heed it; he looked up, however, at the approach of his friend, and answered,

Im all right, Pearson; it isnt that. I was only wishing and wondering why I cant get what I want; it seems a shame, it does! and Tom paused abruptly, half choked by a sob.

What is it, Tom? asked Pearson; have the other lads been plaguing? Such a big, hearty fellow as you ought not to fret for that.

I dont, said Tom, sharply; its not that; but theyve found out that my little brother is in the workhouse at home, and they throw it at me. Id do anything to get him out, too, for he oughtnt to be there: we come of a better sort, Pearson, he said, proudly; but father and mother dying of that fever put us all wrong. Uncle got me to sea, and then, I suppose, he thought hed done enough; so there was only the workhouse left for Willy. Hes the jolliest little chap, Pearson, you ever saw, and Id work day and night to get him out, if I could; but wheres the use? A poor boy like me can do nothing; so I just get in a rage, or dont care about anything, and fight the other lads; or Im had up for neglect of duty, or something.

And so you lose all chance of getting on, and being able in time to help your little brother, said Pearson, as if musing; but whats that you have in your hand, Tom a picture?

Its Willy, said the boy; yes, you may look, Pearson. Mother had it taken just before she fell ill; hes only four, but hes the prettiest little chap, with yellow hair all in curls. I dare say theyve cut them off, though, he added, bitterly. Theres a bit of a sickly child on board, belonging to the tall lady in black, that reminds me a little of him, only he isnt near as pretty as Willy.

Yes, he is a pretty little lad, said Pearson, returning the photograph; and now, Tom, mind my word: I am an old fellow compared to you, and Ill give you a bit of advice. The little lad is safe, at any rate, in the workhouse; hes got food and clothes, and you couldnt give him that; so be content, and try to do your own duty. If you get a good character, instead of being always had up for sulking or fighting, thats the best chance for you, and, after you, for Willy. As for the lads teasing, why, be a bit hard of hearing, and before many years, I warrant, youll be having Willy aboard ship as boy, when youre an able-bodied seaman.

Tom laughed. Thank you, Pearson. Well, Ill try; but I do get wishing and bothering of nights.

Ah, that wishings a poor trick, said Pearson; give it up, Tom, and work instead.

People dont often take advice, but this time it was followed. A great deal of rough weather came on; every one had as much as he could do, and Tom worked with the best of them, and to his great joy was noticed by the ships officers as a willing lad.