The Adventures of a Dog, and a Good Dog Too
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Alfred Elwes >> The Adventures of a Dog, and a Good Dog Too
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.
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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.