You have been told of Baron Trenck’s spider. Men have had pet lionsand tigers. When I see a fine, gentle horse, or an intelligent,loving dog, I find myself repeating Miss Barrett’s beautiful words,–
“Be my benediction said With my hand upon thy head, Gentle fellow-creature.”
Now I have a funny story for you of a dog and a hen which a friendtold me that she knew to be true.
A small dog had a litter of puppies in a barn close by a hen who wassitting on her eggs, waiting patiently, as hens do, for the timewhen her chickens should pop their pretty heads out of their shellsinto this pleasant world.
The puppies, however, came first, and, as soon as they were born,she left her nest, and insisted upon brooding them.
The little dog, no doubt, thought her very impertinent, and barkedat her, and tried to drive her away; but she would not go. They had always been good friends, and the dog was unwilling to hurt her; and so Mrs. Dog, after showing, in every way, her desire to get rid of her troublesome acquaintance, and finding that Madame Hen would not budge one inch, let her alone.
From that time, the hen brooded the puppies. She let their mothersuckle them, but the rest of the time took charge of them. The poordog mother felt cheated, but she went off and amused herself as wellas she could.
The poor chickens never showed their heads outside of their littleoval prison, for they missed the gentle warmth of their unnaturalmother’s wings.”
“She was a real funny hen,” said Frank; “but she could not have hadmuch brains, not even so much as common hens, and that’s littleenough; but, as for the dog, she must be as lazy as Dick Doolittle,to be willing to have such a stupid nursery woman as a hen take careof her own puppies. Dick lets Tom Jones do all his sums for him, butthen he never hides it, so we only laugh at him. He says, What’s theuse of being named Doolittle and yet have to do much?
But, Mother, it is not bed time yet. Have you not some more storiesof animals”
“Yes, Frank; but Harry wants his story now. It is his turn tochoose.’
“I can wait till to-morrow evening,” said Harry; “and I like the dogand hen stories very much.”
“Harry shall have his turn, then, to-morrow,” said Mrs. Chilton;”and I will tell you some more stories of dogs, for I now remembersome more that are perfectly true.
You never know how intelligent an animal is till you treat it withkindness. All animals are easily frightened by human beings, andfear makes them stupid. Children naturally love animals, butsometimes a foolish boy loves to show his power over them, and solearns to be cruel.
A little boy of my acquaintance, when he was told that he might asksome friends to pass his birthday with him, and was asked who shouldbe invited, named over all the dogs in the neighborhood, and wasmuch grieved when his choice was greeted with laughter.
I have seen a little fellow of three years of age with his hand inthe mouth of a large, hungry dog, trying to get a piece of bread outof it, and the dog not resenting the liberty at all, but merelytrying to retain his share of the bread, and allowing the child totake a part.
We all know that dogs have chosen to die upon the graves of theirmasters, refusing food even when it was brought to them. We look atsuch animals as if we saw in them an angel in prison. We feel as ifsuch a nature could not die.
There is no doubt that dogs understand language. My friend, Mr. S.P. Miles, who was remarkable for his tender love for animals, aswell as for many other noble and lovely qualities, told me someremarkable facts which came under his own personal observation, andwhich I am, therefore, sure are true, showing that intelligent dogsunderstand language.
He said that in his father’s house was an old dog, to whom they weremuch attached, who however became liable to fits. The dog was veryfond of hunting, and the moment he saw any one take the gun, to gointo the woods, he would show his ecstasy by leaping about.
Mr. Miles’s mother one day, when caressing the dog and lamentingthat he was subject to these fits, told her son that he had bettershoot him the next time that he went out hunting with him. A fewdays after, Mr. Miles went hunting; but the moment he reached up forhis gun, which was laid up on hooks in the wall, the dog, instead ofshowing joy by jumping about, ran directly to the good lady who hadcondemned him to death, got under the table at which she wassitting, looked up in her face, and would not move from that place.Never after could the poor fellow be induced to go out with any onewho had a gun in his hand.
The same friend told me of a still more remarkable instance ofintelligence in a dog, though I confess it does not prove that thisdog had much conscience.
Mr. Miles said that he knew the man who owned the dog, and knew thetruth of the whole story. He said that a neighbor had an uncommonlyfine dog, well trained, and, as it seemed, perfect in all things.
One day, a man came and complained that the dog killed his sheep.The owner said he was sure that it was impossible. Hero was so welltrained, he was always in his kennel at the right hour, and he knewthat he must not kill sheep. After a while, the neighbor came againwith the accusation. The dog was then tied in the barn. The man cameagain with the same charge against the dog.
Hero’s master now told the accuser that the dog was tied in the barnon the very night when the sheep were killed. He now made much ofhis dumb favorite from the feeling that he was unjustly suspected.
