TELL us a story, father, before we go to bed,” said a little boy, who spoke for two brothers as well as for himself.
“What shall it be about?” asked Mr. Melville, their father.
“Oh, about a dog. I love to hear stories about dogs.”
“Oh yes! let it be about a dog.”
“Yes, papa, let it be about a dog,” ran through the circle of children.
“Wouldn’t you rather hear a story about the innocent lamb; the pure, snow-white lamb that sports in the green meadows?” said the father. “Dogs are evil animals.”
“Oh no, father! dogs are not evil animals. You don’t call our Carlo an evil animal? He’s a good, kind, generous dog. Didn’t he save the life of Mr. Graham’s little Harry, when he fell into the river? And doesn’t he love us, and go with us everywhere? And didn’t he jump on Mr. Parker’s Nero and beat him, when he flew out at us as we were passing, and was going to bite us? I am sure Carlo is a good dog. He watches our house at night, and keeps all the robbers away.”
“Carlo is one of the better class of dogs,” said Mr. Melville. “Many of these animals have generous qualities, and can be taught by man to perform many good acts; but I hardly think the dog can be called a good animal, like the noble horse or the useful cow and sheep. These serve man in a great variety of ways, and do not, even in their wild state, prey upon other animals, or attack and injure man as the dog will. The only use of the dog is for a protection against evil; and he is able to do this from something in him that is cruel and destructive. But I own that in some dogs there are to be found many noble and generous qualities; but these they derive from long association with man, and from being employed by him from one generation to another in doing useful things. The dogs of St. Bernard, of which you have so often read, are noble specimens of this improved race. So are the Newfoundland dogs. But still they are not good and innocent,—like sheep, for instance, or cows, or like the gentle dove. Those are truly innocent animals, and correspond in nature to certain good affections in our minds.”
But the children still thought that Carlo must be a good animal, and insisted that it was so, and upon having a story about a dog instead of a lamb.
“Very well,” said Mr. Melville: “I will tell you a story about a dog, and a very interesting one it is too. I heard it or read about it somewhere recently, but I cannot now tell where.”
“Tell it, father, do tell it,” urged the children.
Mr. Melville then told the following story:—
“There was a boy,—we will call his name Thomas,—whose father bought him a fine horse, upon which he used to ride out almost every day, accompanied by a large Newfoundland dog named Bruno. One day Thomas had his horse brought out for a ride, and after he had mounted the animal, he whistled for Bruno, who was lying on a mat in front of the house. But Bruno only wagged his tail. He did not even lift his head from between his fore paws, although his dark bright eyes were fixed upon his young master. ‘Come, Bruno, come!’ called Thomas. But the dog only wagged his tail more quickly. ‘You are a lazy fellow, Bruno,’ said Thomas, in a half-chiding, disappointed tone. ‘I shan’t half enjoy my ride unless you come.’ And he whistled loud for Bruno, as he gave his horse the rein and trotted off. Although he looked back and called for Bruno many times, as he rode away, the dog evinced no disposition to follow him.
“It was near sunset, and the father and mother of Thomas were sitting in front of their door, enjoying the cool refreshing air. Bruno still lay upon the mat, and seemed to be sleeping.
“‘I wonder why that dog didn’t go with Thomas?’ said the father, looking at Bruno.
“‘He’s lazy to-day,’ replied the mother. ‘Thomas called him, and tried his best to get him off with him, as usual, but Bruno never stirred.’
“On hearing his name, the dog rose up, and came and rubbed himself against his master, who patted him kindly upon the head. While standing thus by his master’s side, Bruno all at once pricked up his ears and rose, and seemed all attention. Almost at the same instant the father of Thomas heard the distant clattering of a horse’s hoofs, which drew nearer every moment. He arose quickly; as he did so, Bruno gave a short, uneasy bark, and went a few steps towards the road, holding his head very high, and looking first in one direction and then in another. This suspense did not continue long. In less than a minute from the time the first distant sound was heard, they saw the horse of Thomas come dashing down the road at a fearful speed, with his little rider clinging to his neck. The house stood nearly a hundred yards from the road, and the horse approaching at such a rapid rate, that, although the father sprang forward to catch him, if possible, at the moment of passing, yet he was instantly conscious that before he could possibly reach the road the frightened animal would be beyond his reach. Just as his mind felt this painful certainty, Bruno went past him like an arrow, cleared the fence at a bound, and at the moment the horse was passing the gate caught him by the bridle. To this he held on, checking the animal’s speed so much that his master found it easy to come up with and stop him.”
“Oh, what a noble dog!” cried the children. “How Thomas must have loved him!”
“But how,” said one, “did Bruno know that the horse was going to run away?”
“He did not know it,” said Mr. Melville.
“Then why didn’t he go with Thomas? He must have known it, father.”
“Oh no; that doesn’t follow, my son, at all. But the Lord, in his omnipotence and providence, knew what would take place, and provided just the means that were needed to save Thomas from being killed.”
“Then he made Bruno stay at home that he might be ready to save his young master’s life?” said one of the children.
“The Lord’s protecting Spirit is everywhere,” replied Mr. Melville, “and governs in all circumstances by which we are preserved from harm. Without doubt, it was an influence from Heaven that produced in the dog an indisposition to go with Thomas.”
“How good the Lord is!” said the child who had last spoken, in a thoughtful tone.
“Yes, my dear,” returned Mr. Melville; “the Lord is good to all, and kind even to the unthankful. He maketh his sun to shine upon the evil and the good, and sendeth his rain upon the just and the unjust.”
