ONE OF THE TRIALS OF BEING THE ELDER BROTHER. LITTLE JIMMIE: "Say, Ned, mama says you can't go fishing with the boys unless you take me along." A TRUE STORY. BY KATHARINE CLARKE. How many of the readers of this story have almost never seen abroad without him. ever owned a Newfoundland dog? I know of no more faithful animal. My youngest brother and the dog who is the hero of my story were born on the same day. For this reason, the little puppy was presented to my brother when both were a year old. At that time my father lived in a very large, old-fashioned house in a small Canadian town. The place was originally settled by retired British officers who, having brought their families over from England, were living in and around the town, making a delightful social circle within so small a community. The surrounding country was mostly farm land, the farmers cultivating the soil principally for pasturage, each man owning many head of cattle and numbers of sheep. Constant complaints were being made by these farmers that the dogs of the town were worrying their cattle, but little attention was given to their complaints until, one day, a farmer whom my father held in high esteem came to tell him that our "Rover," who had now grown from a puppy to a very large, beautiful animal, had killed several of his sheep. Sorry as my father was to hear this, he did not for one moment believe that Rover was really the culprit. After some conversation with the farmer, the matter was settled by my father paying him the value of the sheep that had been killed, and promising to keep a strict watch over Rover's movements. My brother and I were very indignant when told of the accusation; for, loving our dog as we did, we felt him to be quite incapable of such a deed. The trouble was soon forgotten, however; and in our rambles through the woods the dog was always with us. Indeed, we were My father always had a feeling of safety when Rover went along, especially as the shore of the Otonabee River, which flowed by the lower part of our large garden, was our favorite playground. Rover was a splendid swimmer, and had any accident befallen either my brother or myself, he would have proved himself quite as useful as any human being. One of his peculiarities may be worth recording, although it has really nothing to do with my story. On every week-day, as soon as we appeared on the veranda, Rover was always in readiness to accompany us on whatever jaunt we had in mind for that day; but on Sunday he seemed to realize that our walk to church did not include him, and so he remained dozing throughout the entire morning. One day, as we were returning from one of our rambles, we saw our father coming toward us, looking very solemn; and to our great amazement we heard that Rover was again in disgrace. This time the farmer would not be reconciled with payment. He demanded that the dog should be killed or sent away. Our sorrow knew no bounds, for we realized that we and our pet must be parted. It was suggested that Rover should be sent away for the summer months only, and that as soon as the sheep were housed in their winter quarters he might return to us. The plan was to lend him to a lumberman, living about twenty miles from our home, who, having a large family, would be more than pleased to accept the dog as a household guardian while he was away cutting timber in the forest. We knew this lumberman would be a good master, and that Rover would be well taken care of, and that if we persisted in keeping him with us, he might eventually lose his life; for the law allowed that any animal doing an injury to property might be put to death. So one day two sorrowful children said good-by to their beloved companion. Rover was tied behind the stage that passed our house twice a week, and the stagedriver promised to be good to him and to leave him at the home of his new master the next morning. All that day and the two days following we wandered about, feeling very lonely. Everything seemed dreary without our companion. On the evening of the third day after Rover's departure we were just saying good-night when, suddenly, a bark and a scratch at the front door brought a loud exclamation from us both -for whose bark was that if not Rover's! Yes, there he was, our beautiful dog! Twenty miles he had traveled to reach his old home and friends. What a happy reunion it was! Such bones as we begged of the cook! No dog fared better than did our Rover that night. My father said nothing, although at the time. we did not notice his silence; and little we dreamed how short-lived our happiness was to be. Early next morning we were up and planning all sorts of fun. Rover, in spite of his long run of the day before, seemed ready for everything. I think it was late in the afternoon of the same day, as we were returning from the boathouse, where Rover, my brother, and I had been playing, that we heard my father calling the dog. Off Rover bounded in answer to the call; and as we neared the gate we saw a man, seated in a carriage, in deep conversation with my father. Then it dawned upon us what it all meant. Again Rover must go! VOL. XXXIII.-89. My father got into the carriage, and off he and the man started, Rover running under the wheels in obedience to my father's whistle. "AROUND THE DOG'S NECK WAS A STRONG IRON CHAIN, AND TO THAT CHAIN WAS ATTACHED THE HEAVY BLOCK TO WHICH HE HAD BEEN FASTENED. Oh, how we cried as we watched the carriage disappearing in the distance! We felt the world to be a sad place indeed. The days came and went, however, and gradually we grew reconciled to our loss-per There we found my brother kneeling on the ground, and beside him, licking his hand, was our Rover! Around the dog's neck was a strong iron chain, and to that chain was attached the heavy block to which he had been fastened. His coat was covered with burs which stuck to his long black hair, making him a pitiable object to behold. His poor back was cruelly scarred where the chain had rubbed away the hair, and his glossy black coat looked like a dusty covering. So tired and weak was the dog that all he could do was to lick our hands instead of giving the joyous bark with which he was wont to welcome us. It was nearly half an hour before we were able to remove the chain and heavy weight which he had dragged so far in his frantic efforts to reach his home and friends; and after giving him the food of which he was so sorely in need, and making him as comfortable as we could, we left him to rest. The burs had to be removed so gently that, knowing the poor dog had suffered so much already, we decided to wait until the following day before giving him further pain. The arrangement was that we were to try once more giving him his freedom, and if at any time he attacked the sheep, then he was to be chained at all hours when we were not able to be with him. Perhaps Rover knew the reason of his punishment, or had learned his lesson through suffering; for, from that day until his death at the age of fourteen years, we never heard another complaint about him. And no wonder! For, six months later, as my brother and I were playing in the garden one morning, we saw walking toward us the farmer whom we had come to look upon as a personal enemy. In one arm he carried a little lamb, and in his hand a queer-looking box, between the bars of which peered a pair of bright eyes. The box contained a rabbit- a present for my brother, and the pet lamb was for me. For a few moments my brother and I quite forgot our old-time resentment. The farmer had come to effect a reconciliation. In the first place, he wanted to tell us that at last the real culprit had been found; and, So in we went to talk over our dog's brave secondly, he wished to give us each a peaceoffering, and to ask us to forgive his suspicions of Rover. act with our parents. We found our good father, quite overcome by the dog's faithfulness, waiting to tell us that Rover should not be sent away again. The dear old dog, as he watched us, did not appear to be at all surprised. |
