Bruno - Jacob Abbott

Jacob Abbott

Bruno / or, lessons of fidelity, patience, and self-denial taught by a dog

PREFACE

The present volume is the first of a proposed monthly series of story books for the young.

The publishers of the series, in view of the great improvements which have been made within a few years past in the means and appliances of the typographical art, and of the accumulation of their own facilities and resources, not only for the manufacture of such books in an attractive form, and the embellishment of them with every variety of illustration, but also for the circulation of them in the widest manner throughout the land, find that they are in a condition to make a monthly communication of this kind to a very large number of families, and under auspices far more favorable than would have been possible at any former period. They have accordingly resolved on undertaking the work, and they have intrusted to the writer of this notice the charge of preparing the volumes.

The books, though called story books, are not intended to be works of amusement merely to those who may receive them, but of substantial instruction. The successive volumes will comprise a great variety, both in respect to the subjects which they treat, and to the form and manner in which the subjects will be presented; but the end and aim of all will be to impart useful knowledge, to develop the thinking and reasoning powers, to teach a correct and discriminating use of language, to present models of good conduct for imitation, and bad examples to be shunned, to explain and enforce the highest principles of moral duty, and, above all, to awaken and cherish the spirit of humble and unobtrusive, but heartfelt piety. The writer is aware of the great responsibility which devolves upon him, in being thus admitted into many thousands of families with monthly messages of counsel and instruction to the children, which he has the opportunity, through the artistic and mechanical resources placed at his disposal, to clothe in a form that will be calculated to open to him a very easy access to their attention, their confidence, and their hearts. He can only say that he will make every exertion in his power faithfully to fulfill his trust.

THE COMBAT WITH THE WOLF

The hunter alarmed.

In the night, a hunter, who lived in a cottage among the Alps, heard a howling.

Hark! said he, I heard a howling.

His wife raised her head from the pillow to listen, and one of the two children, who were lying in a little bed in the corner of the room, listened too. The other child was asleep.

It is a wolf, said the hunter.

In the morning, said the hunter, I will take my spear, and my sheath-knife, and Bruno, and go and see if I can not kill him.

Bruno was the hunters dog.

The hunter and his wife, and the child that was awake, listened a little longer to the howling of the wolf, and then, when at length the sounds died away, they all went to sleep.

Prepares for a hunt.

In the morning the hunter took his spear, and his sheath-knife, and his hunting-horn besides, and then, calling Bruno to follow him, went off among the rocks and mountains to find the wolf.

Discovers the animal.

While he was climbing up the mountains by a steep and narrow path, he thought he saw something black moving among the rocks at a great distance across the valley. He stopped to look at it. He looked at it very intently.

At first he thought it was the wolf. But it was not the wolf.

The hunter blows his horn.

Then he thought it was a man. So he blew a loud and long blast with his horn. He thought that if the moving thing which he saw were another man, he would answer by blowing his horn, and that then, perhaps, he would come and help the hunter hunt the wolf. He listened, but he heard no reply. He heard nothing but echoes.

By-and-by he came to a stream of water. It was a torrent, flowing wildly among the rocks and bushes.

Bruno, said the hunter, how shall we get across this torrent?

Bruno stood upon a rock, looking at the torrent very earnestly, but he did not speak.

Bruno, said the hunter again, how shall we get across this torrent?

Bruno barked.

The rude bridge.

The hunter then walked along for some distance on the margin of the stream, and presently came to a place where there was a log lying across it. So he and Bruno went over on the log. Bruno ran over at once. The hunter was at first a little afraid to go, but at last he ventured. He got across in safety. Here the hunter stopped a few minutes to rest.

The wolf discovered.

He then went on up the mountain. At last Bruno began to bark and to run on forward, looking excited and wild. He saw the wolf. The hunter hastened forward after him, brandishing his spear. The wolf was in a solitary place, high up among the rocks. He was gnawing some bones. He was gaunt and hungry. Bruno attacked him, but the wolf was larger and stronger than he, and threw him back with great violence against the ground. The dog howled with pain and terror.

Brunos courage. The wolf is killed.

The man thrust the spear at the wolfs mouth, but the ferocious beast evaded the blow, and seized the shaft of the spear between his teeth. Then the great combat came on. Very soon the dog sprang up and seized the wolf by the throat, and held him down, and finally the man killed him with his spear.

Then he took his horn from his belt, and blew a long and loud blast in token of victory.

What became of the skin of the wolf.

He took the skin of the wolf, and carried it home. The fur was long, and gray in color. The hunter tanned and dressed the skin, and made it soft like leather. He spread it down upon the floor before the fire in his cottage, and his children played upon it. Bruno was accustomed to lie upon it in the evening. He would lie quietly there for a long time, looking into the fire, and thinking of the combat he had with the savage monster that originally wore the skin, at the time when he fought him on the mountains, and helped the hunter kill him.

The hunter and the hunters children liked Bruno very much before, but they liked him more than ever after his combat with the wolf.

COMBAT WITH A BOAR

Some wild animals are so ferocious and strong that it requires several dogs to attack and conquer them. Such animals are found generally in remote and uninhabited districts, among forests and mountains, or in countries inhabited by savages.

Habits of the boar.

The wild boar is one of the most terrible of these animals. He has long tusks projecting from his jaws. These serve him as weapons in attacking his enemies, whether dogs or men. He roams in a solitary manner among the mountains, and though he is very fierce and savage in his disposition, he will seldom molest any one who does not molest him. If, when he is passing along through the forests, he sees a man, he pays no regard to him, but goes on in his own way. If, however, when he is attacked by dogs, and is running through the forest to make his escape, he meets a man in his way, he thinks the man is the hunter that has set the dogs upon him, or at least that he is his enemy. So he rushes upon him with terrible fury, and kills him sometimes with a single blow and then, trampling over the dead body, goes on bounding through the thickets to escape from the dogs.

The tusks.

Wild boars often have dreadful combats with each other. In this engraving we have a representation of such a fight. The weapons with which they fight are sharp tusks growing out of the under jaw. With these tusks they can inflict dreadful wounds.

Savages, when they attack the wild boar, arm themselves with spears, and station themselves at different places in the forest, where they think the boar will pass. Sometimes they hide themselves in thickets, so as to be ready to come out suddenly and attack the boar when the dogs have seized him.

The dogs and the boar. The spears.

Here is a picture of such a combat. The dogs have pursued the boar through the woods until he begins to be exhausted with fatigue and terror. Still, he fights them very desperately. One he has thrown down. He has wounded him with his tusks. The dog is crying out with pain and fright. There are three other dogs besides the one who is wounded. They are endeavoring to seize and hold the boar, while one of the hunters is thrusting the iron point of his spear into him. Two other hunters are coming out of a thicket near by to join in the attack. One of them looks as if he were afraid of the boar. He has good reason to be afraid.

Savages dress themselves in skins.

These hunters are savages. They are nearly naked. One of them is clothed with a skin. I suppose, by the claws, that it is a lions skin. He hunted and killed the lion, perhaps, in the same way that he is now hunting and killing the boar.

Savages use the skins of beasts for clothing because they do not know how to spin and weave.

But we must now go back to Bruno, the Alpine hunters dog that killed the wolf, and who used afterward to sleep before the fire in the hunters cottage on the skin.

JOOLY

The Alps.

Brunos master lived among the Alps. The Alps are very lofty mountains in Switzerland and Savoy.

Chamois hunting.

The upper portions of these mountains are very rocky and wild. There are crags, and precipices, and immense chasms among them, where it is very dangerous for any one to go. The hunters, however, climb up among these rocks and precipices to hunt the chamois, which is a small animal, much like a goat in form and character. He has small black horns, the tips of which turn back.

The chamois climbs up among the highest rocks and precipices to feed upon the grass which grows there in the little nooks and corners. The chamois hunters climb up these after him. They take guns with them, in order to shoot the chamois when they see one. But sometimes it is difficult for them to get the game when they have killed it, as we see in this engraving. The hunters were on one side of a chasm and the chamois on the other, and though he has fallen dead upon the rocks, they can not easily reach him. One of the hunters is leaning across the chasm, and is attempting to get hold of the carcass with his right hand. With his left hand he grasps the rock to keep himself from falling. If his hand should slip, he would go headlong down into an awful abyss.

The other hunter is coming up the rock to help his comrade. He has his gun across his shoulder. Both the hunters have ornamented their hats with flowers.

The chamois lies upon the rock where he has fallen. We can see his black horns, with the tips turned backward.

The lower slopes of the mountains.

In the summer season, the valleys among these Alpine mountains are very delightful. The lower slopes of them are adorned with forests of fir and pine, which alternate with smooth, green pasturages, where ramble and feed great numbers of sheep and cows. Below are rich and beautiful valleys, with fields full of flowers, and cottages, and pretty little gardens, and every thing else that can make a country pleasant to see and to play in. There are no noxious or hurtful animals in these valleys, so that there is no danger in rambling about any where in them, either in the fields or in the groves. They must take care of the wet places, and of the thorns that hide among the roses, but beyond these dangers there is nothing to fear. In these valleys, therefore, the youngest children can go into the thickets to play or to gather flowers without any danger or fear; for there are no wild beasts, or noxious animals, or poisonous plants there, or any thing else that can injure them.

Winter in the Alps.

Thus the country of the Alps is very pleasant in summer, but in winter it is cold and stormy, and all the roads and fields, especially in the higher portions of the country, are buried up in snow. Still, the people who live there must go out in winter, and sometimes they are overtaken by storms, and perish in the cold.

Scene in the hunters cottage.

Once Bruno saved his masters life when he was thus overtaken in a storm. The baby was sick, and the hunter thought he would go down in the valley to get some medicine for him. The baby was in a cradle. His grandmother took care of him and rocked him. His mother was at work about the room, feeling very anxious and unhappy. The hunter himself, who had come in tired from his work a short time before, was sitting in a comfortable easy-chair which stood in the corner by the fire. The head of the cradle was near the chair where the hunter was sitting.1

George, said the hunters wife, I wish you would look at the baby.

George leaned forward over the head of the cradle, and looked down upon the baby.

Poor little thing! said he.

What shall we do? said his wife. As she said this she came to the cradle, and, bending down over it, she moved the babys head a little, so as to place it in a more comfortable position. The baby was very pale, and his eyes were shut. As soon as he felt his mothers hand upon his cheek, he opened his eyes, but immediately shut them again. He was too sick to look very long even at his mother.

Consultation between the hunter and his wife.

Poor little thing! said George again. He is very sick. I must go to the village and get some medicine from the doctor.

Oh no! said his wife. You can not go to the village to-night. It is a dreadful storm.

Yes, said the hunter, I know it is.

The snow is very deep, and it is drifting more and more, said his wife. It will be entirely dark before you get home, and you will lose your way, and perish in the snow.

The hunter did not say any thing. He knew very well that there would be great danger in going out on such a night.

You will get lost in the snow, and die, continued his wife, if you attempt to go.

A hard alternative.

And baby will die, perhaps, if I stay at home, said the hunter.

The hunters wife was in a state of great perplexity and distress. It was hard to decide between the life of her husband and that of her child. While the parents were hesitating and looking into the cradle, the babe opened its eyes, and, seeing its father and mother there, tried to put out its little hands to them as if for help, but finding itself too weak to hold them up, it let them drop again, and began to cry.

Poor little thing! said the hunter. Ill go Ill go.

The mother made no more objection. She could not resist the mute appeal of the poor helpless babe. So she brought her husband his coat and cap, and forced her reluctant mind to consent to his going.

It was strange, was it not, that she should be willing to risk the life of her husband, who was all the world to her, whose labor was her life, whose strength was her protection, whose companionship was her solace and support, for the sake of that helpless and useless baby?

It was strange, too, was it not, that the hunter himself, who was already almost exhausted by the cold and exposure that he had suffered during the day, should be willing to go forth again into the storm, for a child that had never done any thing for him, and was utterly unable to do any thing for him now? Besides, by saving the childs life, he was only compelling himself to work the harder, to procure food and clothing for him while he was growing up to be a man.