Tom Bolton's self-denial, or, The faithful dog

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Material Information

Title:
Tom Bolton's self-denial, or, The faithful dog
Series Title:
"Star of hope" series
Cover title:
Faithful dog
Physical Description:
1 v. (unpaged) : ill. (some col.) ; 16 cm.
Language:
English
Creator:
Martineau, Mary Ellen
Frederick Warne and Co ( Publisher )
Dalziel Brothers ( Printer )
Camden Press ( Printer )
Publisher:
Frederick Warne and Co.
Place of Publication:
London
Manufacturer:
Dalziel Brothers ; Camden Press
Publication Date:

Subjects

Subjects / Keywords:
Children -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Poverty -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Self-denial -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Human-animal relationships -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Dogs -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Horses -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Parent and child -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Prize books (Provenance) -- 1881   ( rbprov )
Bldn -- 1881
Genre:
Prize books (Provenance)   ( rbprov )
novel   ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage:
England -- London

Notes

Statement of Responsibility:
Mary Ellen Martineau ; with coloured frontispiece.
General Note:
Date of publication from inscription.
General Note:
Frontispiece printed in colors.
Funding:
Preservation and Access for American and British Children's Literature, 1870-1889 (NEH PA-50860-00).

Record Information

Source Institution:
University of Florida
Holding Location:
Baldwin Library of Historical Children's Literature in the Department of Special Collections and Area Studies, George A. Smathers Libraries, University of Florida
Rights Management:
All rights reserved, Board of Trustees of the University of Florida.
Resource Identifier:
aleph - 002233892
notis - ALH4308
oclc - 62120070
System ID:
UF00048479:00001

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TOM BOLTON'S SELF-DENIAL;
OR,

THE FAITHFUL DOG.



BY
MARY ELLEN MARTINEAU.



WITH COLOURED FRONTISPIECE.











LONDON:
FREDERICK WARNE AND CO.,
BEDFORD STREET, STRAND.






































DALZIEL BROTHERS CAMDEN PRESS, LONDON, N.W
















TOM BOLTON'S SELF-DENIAL.
OR.

THE FAITHFUL DOG.



"9OW, Mary Jane, thou canna see by
that light," said James Bolton to
"his wife, who was sitting by the
window, trying to mend her children's socks by
the light of the lamp in the court outside, there
being no candle in the room. "Thou'lt just
spoil thy eyes, woman,-let's look at them."
And as the lamplight fell on her face as she
looked up, her husband saw that her eyes were
full of tears, and her face looked so pale and
1-2







Tom Bolton's Self-denial; or,

careworn that he started, though he had watched
her day by day, and had seen with bitter pain,
though he tried to hide it from himself, how thin
and pale her face was growing, and how her
strength was fading away. "Now, just put that
down, and get thee to bed, Mary Jane. How
cold thou art! and 't isn't much warmer in bed,
now the blankets is all gone: wrap thy flannel
petticoat well about thee, do."
"Oh, Jem, it's gone to-day! Thou 'It say
it's madness, and I know it is, but where was
the porridge to come from ?"
"Oh, Lord groaned James; "but that
won't do: I'll pawn my Sunday suit rather
than that! To think of it! Thou'It have it
back directly. 'T is as much as thy life's worth,
and the baby's too." And in spite of all his
wife could say against it, he looked up from the
family chest his Sunday coat and waistcoat, and
took them to the pawn-shop at the corner of
the street, bringing back the thick warrr petti-







The Faithful Dof.

coat so necessary to his wife, and a little money
besides.
On his return he found his poor tired wife in
bed and asleep, spite of cold and discomfort. He
was too anxious to rest yet, and walked about
the dark, cold, cheerless room, thinking what
was to be done next, and murmuring to himself,
"Oh, Lord, it is hard To think the likes
o' me should have to come on the parish, or on
charity, if they wouldn't see wife and childer
clem before their eyes! and I, a strong man
and a sober 'un, as would do any kind of honest
work! My word, to see Mary Jane like that !
I'd sooner sweep the streets among them nasty
paupers! Never was such a time as this, in all
my days, for mill hands: here are we all living
on our Lizzie, and she on half-time. I never
thought to have touched her wages; but what
was a man to do ? Thank God Jem's away at
sea and knows nothing of all this. He'd better
not come home yet a bit, poor lad! he'd be







Tom Bolton's Self-denial; or,

like to break his heart. If Tom weren't such a
little weakly chap, I'd send him off too, but he's
not fit for a sailor. Well, I'll make a last trial
before I go to the parish: I 'll go to the railway
and the foundry and the canal, and see if there's
no chance left for me-though I'm weary of
trying it for no good. Lord help us all "
James Bolton said part of this half aloud as
he walked about the dreary room, not thinking
there was any listening ear for it to fall upon;
but he was mistaken, for his boy Tom was awake,
though he lay quite still, curled up at the foot of
his parents' bed, covered over with his own Sun-
day clothes, to keep a little warmth in him; and
close beside him nestled his little dog Wag, a
rough grey terrier, very knowing, the playmate
and pet of all the family, and of Tom in par-
ticular. Tom listened with eagerness to his
father's sad words, and thought over and over
for the hundredth time what he, Tom, could
possibly do to get some money,-till a thought







The Faithful Dog

struck him. "Shall I sell Wag ?-No!" he
answered, quite angry with himself, at the same
time giving Wag a good hug; "how could I ?
I'd clem first! But then he remembered that
Wag would clem too, and he thought of his
poor parents, and the three little ones younger
than he, and how they were all to live; and he
wondered how much money he could get for
Wag, and whether he could buy him back again
soon if he got work to do. By degrees he got
used to the thought, and made up his mind that
he would sell Wag, and would ask fifteen shil-
lings for him: his friend Ben Langley had got
fifteen shillings for a little dog something like
Wag, and Tom was sure Wag was worth quite
as much. But he would tell nobody; he was
sure he should not dare to do it if anybody
knew; so he lay awake thinking and planning
about it till at last he fell asleep. He never
woke till his mother called him, later than usual,
for she had dressed all the little ones first; Lizzie







Tom Bolton's Self-denial; or,

had been gone to her work two hours, for she
had to be at the mill at six o'clock, so she had
to leave all the children to her mother.
But before going on with my story, I must ex.
plain to my readers how the Boltons came to be
so poor at the time I speak of. They lived in
the town of A- in North Lancashire, a town
of cotton-mills, with their tall smoky chimneys
rising up among the green hills and valleys of
that pleasant country. There were rows on
rows of small decent cottages, such as the Bol-
tons lived in, the homes of the mill hands, as
they call the work-people; and there were good
shops, and churches, chapels and schools-every-
thing telling of plenty of people and plenty of
work and activity of every kind. But at the time
of my story, November, 1862, a sad change had
taken place in this town as in all the cotton-
spinning towns of Lancashire. In A- the tall
chimneys had almost all ceased to smoke, and
the clatter of machinery had ceased in almost all







The Faithful Dog.

those great ugly mills, so that hundreds, and even
thousands, of industrious people-men and wo-
men, boys and girls-were thrown out of work.
Among these was James Bolton, an engineer in
one of the mills; a clever, steady man, who had
always earned good wages and been respected by
all who knew him. He had been a careful man
too, and had saved a good deal of money, having
laid by all he could during many years; but now
his savings had all been spent. His wife was an
excellent woman and a capital manager. Before
her marriage she had been housemaid first and
then cook in a gentleman's family, and had
learned much that helped her afterwards to make
her husband a nice comfortable home; indeed,
had it not been for her skill in making much out
of little, the family would have starved or gone
on the parish long before now, for James Bolton
had had no regular work for a year or so, owing
to the stopping of the mills. His daughter
Lizzie, of seventeen, was working half-time in







Tom; Bolton's Self-denial; or,

one of the few mills that still kept going at all,
and her five shillings a week were all that the
family had left to depend on. Till lately Lizzie's
wages had been all her own; it was her father's
pride to take them for her regularly to the savings-
bank, all but what she wanted for herself: she
kept herself in clothes, and did it well too. How
handsome she looked on Sundays So, at least,
thought her father, when he walked with her to
the Sunday-school where they both taught every
Sunday. There they still went, Sunday after
Sunday, through this sad time; and hitherto
they had managed to keep their Sunday clothes,
whatever else they had to part with; so it was
a bitter thing to James Bolton now to take his
own best clothes, for the first time in his life, to
the pawn-shop.
There! he thought, "'it's out now-I can't
hide it no longer; I must wear my old working
clothes next Sunday, or stop at home; and what
will Lizzie say? Well, she's a good wench,







The Faithful Dog.

bless her! I 'm not afeard of what she 'll say;
but I canna bide to see her growing so thin and
worried-looking, my bonny Lizzie!"
It was James Bolton's pride that he had never
asked and never accepted charity in any form;
so even now nothing short of actual starvation
Would drive him to apply either to the parish or
the relief committee, and the decent appearance
that he and all his family still kept up had hitherto
caused them to escape visits and inquiries; his
character as a saving and well-to-do man was
such that none yet suspected his poverty. Even
now he could not bear to ask for help, though he
felt it must soon come to that.
As for Tom, he had never thought of such a
possibility, having never heard his father speak
of such a thing, till he let fall the words "parish,"
and "charity" in his misery that night; and sell-
ing Wag was the only thing Tom could think
of that he could do, for Wag was his own, and
the only thing he had to sell. It did seem to







Tom Bolton's Self-denial; or,

him downright wicked towards Wag; but, then,
if it saved all their lives, Wag's as well as the rest,
surely it could not be wicked. When Tom said
his prayer that morning, he asked God to take
care of Wag, and give him a good master, who
would love him and feed him well; but Tom
could not help crying a little to think that no
one could love Wag as well as he did, and that
perhaps he should never see him again. But he
must not let anybody see his tears, so he brushed
them away, and played with his little sisters while
his mother stirred the porridge for breakfast.
They always had porridge for breakfast now, as
it was the cheapest thing, and they had very
little milk with it this morning, instead of each
child having a good basin-full, as they used to
have in better times.,
Tom ate his porridge quickly, in silence, and
then tucked Wag under his arm, and went out
without a word. He ran out of the court into
the street, and down the street into another court,







T/e Faithful Dog.

where he put Wag under the pump, and washed
him well; he had taken care to bring a bit of
soap with him for the purpose. It was well for
Tom, and for Wag too, that it was a thaw that
morning; the roofs were still all over snow, but
the ice was fast melting off the ground, and the
pumps were free. The water did not feel quite
so icy cold as it had been of late, nor was the
air so bitter; still, it was shivery work for Tom
in his shirt-sleeves and thin old trousers, and for
Wag too; he was not used to such a cold wash-
ing, for Tom washed him every Saturday night
in warm water, and he did not understand this
pump-washing at all, and struggled almost out
of Tom's arms. Tom coaxed and petted him,
and slapped him, and then made up for it by ten
times more hugging and petting, till at last the
business was got through somehow. But now,
how was Wag to be dried ? Tom had never
thought of that: there was nothing for it but to
let him sit by the fire at home and dry himself:







Tom Bolton's Self-denial; or,

and then Tom's mother would wonder what
made him so wet, and Tom too, for Tom was
almost as wet as Wag.
"Never mind," thought Tom, "I can't help it,
for I must go home to put on my Sunday clothes
before I can take Wag through the town." So
he ran off home with Wag under his arm.
His mother was making the beds, and happily
did not see how wet boy and dog were, and asked
Tom no questions till she saw him putting on
his best clothes; then she said,
"Why, Tom, d'ye think it's Sunday?"
"No, mother," said he, "but I'm going out
to-day; I'11 not spoil them, you'll see."
"It's like to be long before you get any
more," said his mother, "so you'd better take
care of these. But what's my lad after to-day,
I wonder?"
Tom could not answer, and his mother did
not press him, for he was always a good lad to
her, and she was sure she might trust him.







The Faithful Dog.

When Tom was dressed, there was still one
thing more to be done before Wag was ready:
there he was, sitting shivering on the hearth be-
fore the little tiny bit of fire, looking all wet, and
his hair quite stringy. Tom stooped down while
his mother was busy in the other room, and gave
Wag a good brushing and combing all over,
which the poor dog seemed to enjoy immensely,
as it helped to dry him and make him comfort-
able. Then, quite afraid of being stopped by
anything else, Tom snatched his hat, and was
just darting off with Wag, when his mother
called out to him,
Stay, Tom! have you fetched the water and
filled the kettle ?"
Tom did this every morning after breakfast
for his mother, but this morning he had forgot-
ten it. He felt vexed, and said, "Bother! but
a look of gentle reproach from his mother made
him blush with shame; he took the pail and
kettle directly to the pump in the court, fetched







ToIL Bolton's Self-denlial; o,

in the water, and then asked his mother if she
wanted him to do anything else for her. He
was right glad to hear her answer, "No, thank
you, Tom," and darted off at once with Wag
under his arm.
He hugged his little pet, and kissed him over
and over, as he ran down the court. He thought
Wag had never looked so pretty in his life, with
all his long grey hair so soft and silky-looking,
so beautifully clean, down to his little toes; and
Wag seemed particularly proud of himself, for
he set his ears up in the most knowing, con-
ceited way at every dog he saw, and would have
jumped out of Tom's arms many times if Tom
had not held him very tight. Tom told him
over and over again what was going to happen
to him, and why, and tried to comfort him about
it; for Wag's great brown eyes looked sadly at
Tom as he talked to him, and Tom almost
thought he understood all about it, he looked so
very wise.







The Faithful Dog.

Tom carried him to the pavement in front of
the town hall, in the market-place, where he had
often seen men stand with dogs to sell, so he sup-
posed it was the proper place. There were two
men there now with dogs, and Tom looked
anxiously at them, but satisfied himself that
theirs were very common ugly dogs compared
with Wag. He waited a long time, walking up
and down, and showing Wag to all the gentle-
men and ladies who passed; but though some
looked as if they could not help admiring him,
Tom thought, still no one offered to buy him for
three whole hours. Tom got very cold and tired
and hungry, and felt it more and more hard to
part with Wag. At last came two tall young
men, walking so fast that Tom was afraid to offer
Wag to them, thinking they wouldn't stop for
anything, when suddenly one of them turned
round and said,
"I say, that's a nice dog!"
Tom took the hint, and ran up to them, and
2







7orn Bolton's Self-denial; or,

showed off Wag, and told them how clever he
was and what wonderful tricks he could do.
What is he worth, Thompson? said the
younger of the two to his companion.
"Oh, not much, he's only a half-breed; the
lad will be glad to get twelve shillings for him,
no doubt."
"No," said Tom proudly; "I know he's
worth at least fifteen shillings, and I '11 not take
less for him."
"Well, you shall have it, my lad," said the
young gentleman, and put into Tom's hand a
half-sovereign and two half-crowns; such a sum
as Tom had never had for his own before; and
in the joy of having so much money, he forgot
for a moment the pain of losing his pet Wag:
it was not till he had given him up, and the
young men were out of sight, that he remem-
bered his loss; then it was too much for him,
He could not go home straight without Wag,
so te ran on, past their own street, till he came






The Faithful Dog.

to a place where there were some new houses
building, or rather waiting to be built, for there
was no building going on now, and these houses
had stood for months in just the same state.
There, out of the way of passers-by, Tom sat
down upon a step; tied up his money in a corner
of his pocket-handkerchief-one of his smart
Sunday handkerchiefs, with the Duke of Wel-
lington" line-of-battle ship very large in the
middle of it.
And now he was all alone, his grief at losing
Wag was more than he could bear, and he gave
waytoa passion of tears. Perhaps he should never
see Wag again, and then what should he do ?
and how could he go home now and tell them
all what he had done ? So poor Tom cried till
he fairly cried himself to sleep on the steps there,
I suppose; for the next thing he knew was that
some one was tugging at his handkerchief: at
first he thought it was Wag, but when he roused
himself to look up he saw a dirty ill-looking boy,
2-2







Tom Bolton's Self-denial; or,

much bigger than himself, who had got tight
hold of the handkerchief. Tom was instantly
on his feet, clutching the precious handkerchief
with both hands, and crying out,
Let go, I say! I '11 call the police!"
"Will you ? said the lad, laughing; "take
that first! giving Tom a heavy kick with his
clogged foot.
Then followed a fight with clogs. Tom kicked
furiously, all the time clutching the handker-
chief with hands and teeth, and calling out
"Police and getting terribly kicked by the
other lad: but in this out-of-the-way place no
one was within hearing just then, and after a
brave struggle poor Tom was kicked down by
the big lad, and though he still kept his hold of
the handkerchief, it gave way, and tore in two,
leaving a piece in Tom's hand, while the boy
ran off with the piece that contained the money.
Tom darted after him as soon as he could pick
himself up, and followed him at a mad pace,







T/e Faithful Dog.

down street after street, too breathless to call
out any more for help, and never lost sight of
him till in an unlucky moment Tom's foot
slipped over something he did not see in his
haste, and down he fell with his head against
some railings.
He hardly knew even this much about his fall,
and knew no more of what happened to him
till he found himself in a clean comfortable bed
in a large room with many other beds, and
found a strange woman sitting by him, and a
wet cloth tied round his head. Some time must
have passed, for it was now quite dark except
for the fire-light, which showed him the room,
and the nurse sitting by his bed.
Who brought me here ?" asked Tom, "and
whose house is this ?"
It's the Children's Hospital," said the nurse,
"and I don't know who brought you here-the
police, I dare say."
"How long have I been here?"







Tom Bolton's Self-denial; or,

"Oh, bless you! not long; you've come to
very quick: only an hour or two since you were
put to bed."
"Where are my clothes?" cried Tom, starting
up; "I must get up and go home to mother
directly."
"Now, don't you fuss about mother, but lie
down again like a good lad, and go to sleep:
you'll not walk yet a bit."
And indeed Tom had to obey, for besides a
very bad headache that came on when he started
up, he felt one foot give way when he tried for
a moment to stand, and it gave him violent pain.
"What's the matter with me?" asked he;
"I forget how I got hurt."
Oh, don't fret about it, lad : you'll get well
nicely here, and have all you want."
"But I wish some one could go and tell
father and mother I'm here,-they 'll think I'm
lost, killed, or something, I know they will,"
said Tom.







The Faithful Dog.

"Well, where do they live ?" asked the nurse.
Tom told her, and she promised to go and
tell them herself, on her way home that evening,
for she was a day-nurse, and went home for the
night.
So Tom was satisfied, and went to sleep again
till his supper was brought in, and then found
he was very hungry, and no wonder, for he
had had no dinner at all, and a most exciting
day.
By degrees he remembered all the events of
the day, as far as the loss of his money, his chase
after the thief, and his fall; he knew nothing
after that. Looking round him, he saw there
were other boys in some of the other beds in the
large room: one of them had a broken leg, the
nurse said, and others other injuries; but they
were all doing well, and some of them were
chatting and joking together very merrily, though
the nurse did not let them move about much or
make much noise. Tom did not know any of







S Tom Bolton's Self-denial; or,

them, and did not feel inclined to join in their
chat and play: it amused him for a little while,
but soon he got very tired of hearing it, wished
they would be quiet, and at last went to sleep
in spite of it.
It was a long, queer night to Tom, full of
troubled dreams about Wag and about thieves;
and Tom thought he must have talked in his
sleep, because when he woke, the nurse almost
always spoke to him, telling him not to trouble
himself, or something of that kind, though he
did not know he had spoken. However, morn-
ing came at last, and Tom woke up from a real
deep sleep, feeling much refreshed and ready for
his breakfast. Soon it came, and how good it
was! Tom had been but poorly fed for a long
time past, and the hospital food seemed to him
wonderfully good. He felt very comfortable,
and only wished he could see his mother and tell
her all about it. Just as he was wishing so, in
she came. with the baby in her arms! Tom







The Faithful Dog.

nearly jumped out of bed in his joyful surprise;
but his bad ankle gave him such pain that he
had to lie still again. His mother was quite
pleased to see him so comfortable, and getting
better so nicely, for she had been quite frightened
to hear about his accident. And now Tom had
to tell her all about Wag, and about the boy
stealing his money: it was some comfort to him
to tell his mother all about it, though he could
not tell it without crying. His mother did not
let him talk much about it just then, and she
soothed and comforted him till he felt quite
happy, and fell asleep with his head on her lap;
she then gently laid him down on his pillow again
and kissed him, and went away much comforted
about her poor boy.
Tom lay some weeks in the hospital, for though
the bruise on his head soon healed, the ankle took
a long time, being badly sprained; he was not
allowed to leave his bed for a fortnight, and then
he might only walk about the room on crutches







Tom Bolton's Self-denial; or,

for some time after that. On certain days, when
visitors were allowed, his father or his mother
same to see him. Tom reckoned eagerly on their
coming, and was always quite proud to show
them how much better he was than the last time.
Then they told him how they were all going on
at home; and though his father seemed hardly
willing to tell him, it gladdened Tom's heart to
hear that a district visitor from the relief com-
mittee had found them out at last, and given
them some help in money and clothes. Tom
clapped his hands for joy, and thought with less
bitterness of his lost fifteen shillings.
Aren't you glad, father ?" asked he, seeing
that his father hardly seemed to share in his burst
of joy.
"Why, yes, lad, I hope I'm not ungrateful.
I thank 'em from my heart, God knows, for
they've maybe saved your poor mother's life,
and baby's; and if a man won't be thankful for
that, he won't for nothing in this world."







The Faithful Dog.

"Then why do you speak as if it was some-
thing dreadful ?" said Tom.
"Why, lad, you see, it's charity, that's what
it is, and we've never been on charity in our
lives till now."
Tom thought a moment, and then bnrst out,
"Never mind, father! 't isn't your fault-no one
can say it is; and if people as have plenty give
us a bit when we're just clemming, why mayn't
we take it? Isn't it summat like the good
Samaritan? The poor man didn't send him
away and say, I '11 have no charity, I'd rather
die! '"
Well, lad, I 've been thinking of that myself.
I think you're right, Tom, and we shouldn't be
ashamed of it, but thank God for it. And now
I must go home, and I hope you'll soon be well
enough to come back to us."
One day, soon after this, Tom had another
visitor, very unexpectedly. He was lying down
on his bed after his dinner, to rest his lame leg,







Tom Bolton's Self-denial; or,

as he was ordered to do every day at present,
when he heard a little patter of feet, then one
sharp bark, and in an instant Wag was on his
bed, twirling round, rolling over upon him, lick-
his face and hands, shaking and quivering all
over with excitement, and wagging hisdtail as if
it could never stop! Tom, overcome with joy
and surprise, hugged and kissed his little friend,
and laughed till he almost cried, and then
showered on Wag all his most petting names,
and endless questions as to where he had been
all this time. The other boys in the room looked
on amazed, and asked Tom many questions, but
he did not answer-he hardly heard them, he
was so taken up with Wag. But it was not
many minutes before a young man came in and
asked if his dog was there, and called, "Wag,
Wag !" Still Wag did not move, but sat trem-
bling, nestled close to Tom, while Tom kept his
arm round him, hugging him as if he could never
let him go again. But when Tom looked up at







The Faithful Dog.

the young man, he remembered him, and all his
joy was gone: he was the same young man who
had bought Wag, so Tom had no right to keep
Wag from him.
Here he is, sir," said Tom with a great
effort. "He's yours; take him."
"Yes, he's mine," said the young man; "I
lost him out of the lecture-room, and have been
looking all over the house for him. But you
don't seem willing to let him go."
"Don't you know me, sir ?" asked Tom.
"Oh, ah, I see, you're the lad that sold him
to me. Then he was yours, was he ? I thought
to be sure you'd picked him up-lost or stolen
-such a well-bred little chap he is."
No, sir," said Tom with an angry blush over
his whole face; "he was mine!"
And how came you here, my lad ? and what
have,you done with your fifteen shillings ?"
So Tom had to tell his story, and the young
man was quite interested, and asked to look at







S Tom Bolton's Self-denial; or,

his ankle, saying, I 'm a doctor-that is, I shall
be in a year or so-so I've a right to look. Oh,
ah-a bad sprain; but you'll do now, you'll be
turned out within a week. And so you'd like to
have Wag back, would you ? and it's rather hard
you shouldn't, now you've lost dog and money
both; but-well, you shall have him, you shall
have him."
"Oh, sir!" said Tom, "d'ye think I could
take him back from you? I lost the money,
not you; but if I get it back anyhow, or get
fifteen shillings of my own some time, may I
buy him back again? for it was so hard to sell
him I wouldn't have done it if I could have got
money anyhow else, that I wouldn't."
"Very well, my lad, you shall have him as
soon as you can pay for him. Here's my card
with my name and address; and now good bye;
I '11 come and see you again on Wednesday."
When he was gone, Tom examined the card,
and read, Mr. Richard Lawrence. 16 Blackburn







The Faithful Dog.

Street." Then he fell into deep thought about
how he could possibly earn money, a great deal
of money, and lay by a little at a time, till he
had saved fifteen shillings; and then he fancied
himself going to Mr. Richard Lawrence and buy-
ing Wag back again. Oh, joyful thought! Tom
could hardly help shouting and clapping his
hands at the thought; but he remembered the
other boys in the room, and stopped himself;
then he recollected that it was all fancy-he had
no idea how he could really earn so much money,
still less how he could save it, while they were
all nearly starving at home, and his father had
no prospect of any work. Still, Tom did not let
his bright dream fade quite away. He thought
over all the ways for a boy like him to earn
money: he could be an errand-boy in a shop, if
only his ankle would get well and strong; or he
could take newspapers out, all about the town,
for a news-agent-that was as likely as anything;
or he might learn shoemaking, but that would







Tom Bolton's Self-denial; or,

be very tiresome, for he could not hope to earn
anything for a long time, and besides, he did not
know any shoemaker who would take him for
nothing. He thought of another thing: he could
go to clean boots and knives every morning for
some gentleman's family, and run errands; but
he did not know how to get such a place. Then
another thought struck him: could not he be a
pupil-teacher? But, alas! he was too young-
he was only eleven, and he could not be made a
pupil-teacher under thirteen. How Tom wished
he were two years older for he was fond of his
school, was a clever boy, and thought he would
rather be a schoolmaster than a workman or a
mill hand. But all Tom's plans only came to
this, that he determined, as soon as he was strong
enough, to go about to all the shops till he found,
if possible, one that would take him as an errand-
boy. And then he grew impatient to get out of
the hospital, and he walked about the room with-
out his crutches to try his ankle, thinking at first







The Faithful Dog.

it felt almost well, but soon finding it grow so
weak and painful that he had to sit down a-a;i!l.
A few days after this, Mr. Richard Lawrence
came again to see Tom. This time he did not
bring Wag, as Tom had hoped he would; per-
haps he thought it would be no kindness to Tom
to bring his little pet, only to take him away
again.
"Well, Tom," said he, "you look much better;
you can walk pretty well now, I see, and I hear
you are to go out to-morrow."
"Yes," said Tom, ['m very glad; and do
you think I shall be able to work next week ? "
"What sort of work do you do? asked Mr.
Lawrence.
"Well," said Tom, "I can't say, for I've
never done any yet; but I want to begin directly,
if I can get something to do. Father wanted to
keep me at school two years more at least; but
things are so bad now, I must work if I can get
work; I wish I knew how! "







Tom Bolton's Self-denial; or,

Mr. Lawrence thought a little, and then said,
"I 'm sure your ankle won't be strong enough
for two or three weeks yet; but I '1 see if I
can hear of an errand-boy's place for you by
that time. I have an uncle who has a druggist's
shop in Market Street, and he sometimes wants
a boy; I '11 ask him if he has a place, and let you
know. In the meantime you must not walk
much, but get on bit by bit; and perhaps this
will help you;" and he slipped half a crown
into Tom's hand, and with a cheerful "good
bye" was gone before Tom could say a word.
Tom felt half ashamed to pocket the half-
crown; he was not used to receive money pre-
sents, and he blushed to think that he had made
Mr. Lawrence give it him, by talking about
wanting money so much; for Tom was almost
as proud as his father, and could not bear any-
thing like begging. However, he had not begged,
and Mr. Lawrence had given him the money of
his own accord, so he thought he might enjoy







The Faithful Dog.

it; he pocketed it safely, and began to think
what he should buy with it. How many things
he thought of! and yet he determined at last to
give it to his mother-she would make the best
use of it.
The next day Tom's father came to fetch him
home. Tom was right glad to go, though he
had been so comfortable in the hospital; and
he looked so much the better for the good and
plentiful food and the fresher air, that his father
said,
"Why, Tom, lad, it's worth while to sprain
an ankle, I declare! Let's feel your weight,"
and lifting the boy up, he declared Tom weighed
twice as much as before his accident.


Tom's return made that day a very happy one
in his home; poverty and distress seemed to be
all forgotten for the moment, all the family were
so glad to have their bright merry boy at home
again.
3-2







Tom Bolton's Self-denial; or,

Time passed on; Tom limped about, went to
school. and in his spare time made little boats and
other toys with his knife, out of bits of wood that
he was allowed to pick up in the joiner's shop
near the school; these toys he sold on market days
in the market-place, and thus earned a few pence.
Soon he limped less, and in about a fortnight he
thought his ankle quite well, and grew impatient
to go to work; but he had heard nothing yet from
Mr. Lawrence. He did not like to go to him,
as Mr. Lawrence had promised to let him know
the result of his inquiries; so he was very much
delighted to meet Mr. Lawrence one day in the
street, and to hear that there was a place for
him.
Mr. Lawrence's uncle had just dismissed an
errand-boy for idleness, and wanted another, so
he was willing to try Tom.
So Tom went to work the next week with
right good will, and proved himself an active,
useful boy,-finding little odd jobs to do in the







The Faithful Dog.

shop when he was not out on errands. His wages,
though very small at first, were a real help to his
poor parents. Tom felt quite proud as he took
his money home every Saturday, and gave it to
his mother; how pleased he was when she
smiled, and called him her good lad, and kissed
him!
Months passed on-months of struggle and
poverty, then spring came, and at last James
Bolton succeeded in getting work on the rail-
way. Now came better times for his family:
they got good food, and by degrees got clothes
to replace what they had pawned. And now
Tom's wages were all his own, for his father
would not touch them, and advised Tom to save
up. He did so, putting his money into the Sun-
day school savings-bank every week for a long
time, till one Sunday he rather surprised the
superintendent by saying, "Please, sir, I shall
take all my money out next Sunday."
"What? all!" asked he; "why, you have







Tom Bolton's Self-denial; or,

nearly fifteen shillings in. If I were you, I
wouldn't take it all out at once."
"But I want it, sir, particularly," said Tom.
"Do you? I'm sorry for that; but if you
really want it, of course you shall have it," an-
swered the superintendent.
Tom did not explain what he wanted it for,
but he looked so beaming and happy that the
superintendent thought there could not be any
great distress in his home, and supposed the lad
had some plan of his own about his money.
What a long week that seemed to Tom and
how he thought of Wag, and oz all he should
do with him when he got him back again! And
when Sunday came at last, how carefully he put
his fifteen shillings in the little purse Lizzie had
given him to hold his weekly wages! It had
never been so full before. What a sum to have
earned all himself! After school he ran straight
off to Mr. Richard Lawrence's, and asked to see
him. The servant asked him so many questions







The Faithful Dog.

that Tom was afraid she would never let him
come in, nor tell that he was there; but luckily
Wag heard his voice, and came rushing out to
him, and then there was such a petting and kiss-
ing and jumping as quite astonished the servant,
and made her go in to tell her young master how
his dog was behaving with the strange boy.
"Well, Tcm," said Mr. Lawrence, coming
out to him; "come in, my lad. I'm glad to
see you again. You're grown a head taller, I
think. Well, it's more than a year since I saw
you in the hospital. I've heard of you now and
then from my uncle, and he gives me a good
account of you. I suppose we shall see you flou-
rishing away some day with a big druggist's shop,
when I 'm a poor struggling little doctor, and I
shall tell everybody I had the making of you! "
Tom laughed, and felt rather bewildered. How
should he begin about Wag? Happily Wag
settled the question for Tom by jumping up
higher and higher till he got fairly into his






Tom Bolton's Self-denial; or,

arms, and nestled there as he always used to
do.
"VWell," said Mr. Lawrence, "Wag hasn't
forgotten his old master yet; he seems deter-
mined you shall carry him off."
Well, sir, that's what I 'm come for," said
Tom. I 've saved fifteen shillings for him, here
it is;" and he opened his purse, and laid the
money on the table. I wish to thank you, sir,
for finding me such a good place, and for saying
I should have Wag back as soon as I could pay
for him."
Tom's face turned very red as he made this
little speech, and he looked eagerly at Mr Law-
rence for an answer.
Well, Tom, I am surprised," said he; "I
didn't think you could have saved all that
money."
Then you didn't mean to part with Wag,
sir ? asked Tom timidly.
Oh, yes, of course," answered Mr. Law.






The Faithful Dog.

rence; "if you brought the money, why, I pro-
mised you that, you know; do you think I'm
going to swindle you? I don't like parting with
the dog, I own; he's ajolly little chap, and very
fond of me when you aren't here; but he's fairly
yours again now, and I wish you joy of him; and
remember, if ever you want to sell him again, I 'm
your man."
Thank you, sir," said Tom; I hope I shall
never sell him again; but if I did, I should like
to sell him to you. Good bye, sir, and I 'm very
much obliged to you; and Tom bowed and ran
off with Wag in his arms, hugging him tighter
than ever, and chattering merrily to him all the
way home.
Great was the surprise and delight of all the
family when Tom rushed in with Wag at his
heels; for Tom had kept his purpose a profound
secret, so as to give them a complete surprise.
How they all petted and played with Wag, and
how happy he was among them! He seemed







Tom Bolton's Self-denial; or,

to understand all about it as well as any of
them; and he was so handsome! fatter than he
used to be, and his hair so silky and soft and
beautiful!

A few months after this, Tom was busy one
morning polishing the brass name-plate on the
druggist's shop window, when he noticed a gen-
tleman pass with a corner of his fine silk hand-
kerchief hanging out of his coat-pocket; he
looked again a moment after, and it was gone,
and a big boy was rushing across the street as if
running away. In an instant Tom was after
him at full speed, crying out, "Thief, thief!"
Wag (who always would go with Tom to his
work) joined in the pursuit, and at last caught
the thief by the trousers; a man then seized
hold of him, then Tom came up, and they held
him till a policeman came. The handkerchief'
was found in the boy's pocket, and he was taken
off to the police-station. The next day Tom







The Faithful Dog.

was sent for to give his evidence in the police-
court. He knew very well who the thief was;
the moment he saw him running away he was
sure it was the same boy who had robbed him of
his fifteen shillings, nearly two years ago. When
they met in the court, the lad recognize Tom,
and scowled at him with a very defiant look;
but that was of no use now; he was in Tom's
power. Tom had to answer a great many ques-
tions, and in the course of the examination the
story of the robbery of his money came out. The
magistrate asked Tom if he would bring a charge
against Joshua Jenkins (that was the thief's name)
for stealing his money. Tom said he would, so
after Jenkins had been sentenced to a fine for
stealing the gentleman's handkerchief, he had to
answer to this more serious charge. The case took
some time, and had to come on again another
day, for many witnesses had to be called; among
"them Mr. Richard Lawrence, and the house-
surgeon of the hospital, and a policeman who







Tom Bolton's Self-denial; or,

had picked Tom up, and taken him to the
hospital.
This policeman had kept the torn piece of
handkerchief that had been left in Tom's hand,
and this helped to show the truth of Tom's story;
but, of course, the other piece, which had con-
tained the money, could not be produced, for
Jenkins had taken good care to burn it directly.
So, though it was proved that Tom had been
kicked and robbed, it was not proved that Jen-
kins was the thief; Tom was the only person
who recognized him; till at last, when it seemed
probable he would be acquitted, a woman came
in, and told one of the policemen she had some-
thing to say about the case as a witness. She
was called up, and made this statement:
"On Thursday, Nov. 2oth, 1862, about half-
past two in the afternoon, I was walking along
New Street, and as I crossed the road where the
new row of houses was, I saw two lads a little
way off, kicking and fighting; one fell down and







The Faithful Dog.

the other ran off: it was this chap here as ran
off," pointing to Jenkins; "I know him, for he
ran past me like to knock me down, and looked
as black as thunder at me for being in his road.
He had a rag like a handkerchief in his hand,
and then came the little lad tearing after him,
with one just like it in his hand, and I was sure
he couldn't catch him, though he ran like mad.
I never knew a bit of what it was about, so I
thought no more of it till I heard what was going
on in the court to-day, and when they told me
about the torn handkerchief, why, then, 'that's
it,' says I, 'that's what them lads were a-fighting
about, long ago, for they each had a piece in
their hands as they ran away.' "
The woman was then told to look round the
court among all the people for the boy who had
run after the thief. Tom was purposely kept
in the background, among a crowd of people
who had come in to hear the case: she looked
carefully round among the people, and then







Tom Bolton's Self-denial; or,

singled out Tom, saying, "I think that's the lad,
though he's grown much bigger, and looks a deal
stronger."
This woman's evidence, added to all the rest,
satisfied the magistrate, and Jenkins was found
guilty, and sentenced to go to prison with hard
labour for some months, and pay back the fifteen
shillings to Tom. He was known to the police
as a regular thief, and a very clever one, who
generally managed to escape them, so it was very
well he was caught this time. They found out
where he was living, and found plenty of money
hidden away among his clothes-all stolen
money, no doubt. So Tom got his fifteen shil-
lings back at last, and went home happy, except
that he could not quite forget the wicked boy's
face with its savage frown, nor help thinking how
different that and the court and the prison were
from his own happy home. Till then, he had
hardly thought what a home he had, and had
never thought of thanking God for that; but







The Faithful Dog.

now, when he said his prayer that night, he did
earnestly thank God for giving him such a good
happy home, such a dear good father and mother
and sisters and little brother, and such a dear,
faithful little dog as Wag.








r-Rl^
















THE JUDGE'S PETS;
OR,
DOGS AND HORSES.



ERO was a splendid large Newfound-
land dog, with a white spot under
his neck, and white paws. He had
a beautiful head, and large brown eyes full of
tenderness and courage. He liked everybody,
and everybody liked him. He was intimate
with all the other animals on his master's,
Judge Weston's place, and especially fond of
a beautiful grey horse named Charlie, with
which he used to run races, and frolic in the
orchard. Pero would jump up, and pretend to







Dogs and Horses.

bite Charlie's nose; then Charlie would run
after him in turn, and make believe to trample
on him. They really almost laughed. His
other especial friend was a tiny white kitten,
that liked to sit on his back as he lay in the
sun or before the fire. It was very funny to
see her trying patiently to dry her huge friend
with her little bit of a tongue, when he came
in dripping wet from a bath in the river. His
only fault was a disposition to come into the
house in this state, and lie down wherever
he found a warm place, without respect for
parlour carpets or clean kitchen floors. In
summer he was often scrubbed in a large tub
in the barn, and his curly black hair combed
out, till he looked as nice as any dandy; but
if he could possibly escape after his bath, he
would roll over and over in the dirty street,
until he looked like a brown dog instead of a
black one.
Several times the door-bell rang, and no
4







The e udge's Pets; or,

one could be seen when the door was opened,
except Pero, standing gravely on the upper
step, and ready to come in. This was sup-
posed to be a trick of some boy, until George,
one of the children, undertook to watch for the
rogue, and caught Pero himself, pulling the
bell-handle with his teeth.
He had a very keen scent, and took great
pride in displaying his powers. Sometimes
the children would leave him in the parlour
while they hid a glove among the hay in the
barn; but he never failed to find it. If George
lost a mitten, he had only to show the mate
of it to Pero, who would bring it, though it
might have been dropped a mile from home.
He would come in with his tail wagging and
his eyes glistening with delight at his success;
and when he had been praised, as he knew he
deserved to be, would stretch himself on the
rug, with his head on the Judge's feet, and
"wake a good nap to rest himself.







Dogs and Horses.

His good-nature was unbounded, and his
friends could take any liberties with him. But
this was the good-nature of conscious strength.
" It is the gentle heart that makes the hero"
in dogs and men, and Pero was a faithful and
fierce watch-dog, and a tremendous fighter in
a good cause. At one time, when George was
from home, his rabbits escaped, and ran wild
around the garden. They were a great temp-
tation to the dogs that passed by, and would
soon have been eaten up, if Pero had not taken
them under his protection, and driven away
everybody who meddled with them. One day,
after chasing a dog a long distance, he came
quietly into the nursery, and gently dropped
in the mother's lap a little white rabbit, which
had lain entirely concealed in his great mouth.
He had saved its life, and brought it entirely
unhurt, though rather damp, to his mistress.
He was not in the least quarrelsome, and never
hurt a little dog under any provocation; but
4-2







The Judge's Pets; or,

he would not endure insults from dogs of his
own size, so sometimes he had hard fights.
One day he was attacked by a large, fierce
bull-dog, and a dreadful fight began. A crowd
gathered round, and all the women of the
family ran out, begging that some one would
separate the dogs. But the men explained
that it was very dangerous to interfere between
such ferocious animals; so the women cried,
and the men looked placidly on; and the dogs
fought, and might have torn each other in
pieces, if George had not appeared on the
scene. He came running at full speed, broke
through the ring of men, and seized the bull-
dog round the throat. Then the men were
ashamed not to help him, and George soon
emerged from the group, dragging Pero with
him.
Pero's eyes were red with rage, and he was
uttering frightful growls, but he still retained
sense enough not to hurt his best friend. Those







Dogs aid Horses.

who saw George do things like this in his
boyhood, did not wonder afterwards that one
regiment never broke its ranks, though all
around it fled, and it was more than once left
to face the foe alone.
Pero lived to be very old, and his loss at last
was a grief to all. George grew up a brave
and gentle man, beloved by everybody. Then
the war broke out between the Northern and
Southern States of America, and the young
man joined the Northern army. And now I
have a sad story to tell.
Seven years ago the Judge's eldest son-the
bravest, best, and dearest of his flock-fell on
a distant battle-field, with an enemy's bullet
through the heart that had beaten so warmly
with the love of all God's creatures. His own
officers loved him so well that they eagerly
offered up their liberty, and risked life itself,
to comfort his last moments. The enemy, who
had feared himin battle, but never feared injury







The Yuidge's Pets; or,

to their women and children fromhis command
received the body of their noble foe with tender
respect. The city which he had governed as
a conquered town, prepared to give him burial
in their own churchyard. But his friends
rescued his precious remains, and brought them
home. With thoughtful kindness, which will
never be forgotten, they brought also his horse
and dog,-the dog a beautiful English pointer,
and the horse lame with two'bullet-wounds,
and looking sopathetic that he seemed to every
one to be mourning for his master.
The name of the dog, given by his former
master, was Governor Wise, and his story was
as follows:-The command were one day in
Strasburg, when the Colonel saw him running
about the streets, and without thinking, said,
"I wish that dog was mine." They continued
their march, and when they were some miles
from the town, Wise was discovered among the
men. No one could tell how he came there,






Dogs and.Horses.

except one private, who would only say, in
answer to all questions, "I heerd the Colonel
say he wanted that dog, so there the dog is."
The Colonel inquired into his history; and
finding that he belonged to a little lame boy,
ordered him to be returned when they next
went through Strasburg. It was some weeks,
however, before they were in the place again;
and by that time the dog had grown so fond
of his new master that he would not leave him.
He became a great pet, and always slept in his
master's tent. An officer, who passed the night
before the Colonel's last battle with him, re-
members that the dog cried with cold, and the
Colonel got up, untied the rope which fastened
him to the tent-pole, and took him between
his own blankets.
Wise took kindly to his Northern home,
and unbounded care was lavished upon him
by his new friends. The mother seemed al-
most to adopt him as a child, and he lived a







The Judge's Pets; or,

life of constant petting. But when the cold
weather came, the poor Southern creature suf-
fered very much; and when the first snow fell,
he was seized with a lung fever, and died in a
few days.
The horse has been more fortunate. His
wounds were carefully dressed; and at last he
recovered, though not for months after the
bullet was taken out. He had been more than
three years in the war, and had received his
first wound at the battle of Bull Run. He
seems to enjoy the ways of peace, however,
and draws women and children through the
quiet country roads as sedately as if he had
never moved to the sound of a drum. His
experiences have made him a little suspicious,
and he starts at every cloud of dust, evidently
mistaking it for the smoke of cannon, and
shows so much fear of small dark objects by
the roadside, that his friends think he is always
looking out for shells about to explode. He






Dogs and Horses.

insists upon walking most of the time, as he
was formerly accustomed either to marching
with the men, or to galloping at full speed.
He evidently considers that the pace at which
the regiment marched is the proper rate of
speed under all circumstances. He is of course
very affectionate, and shows the greatest de-
light when he sees a face or hears a voice of
which he is fond, and turns his head occasion-
ally, to try to get a glimpse of his friends in
the carriage behind him.
One Lieutenant relates the history of his
first ride on Charlie in this way:
"On the occasion of some especially grand
review, the Colonel, then in command of a
brigade, invited me to ride on his staff during
the day, and offered to lend me Charlie. Very
proud was I to appear for once in all the
glories of a mounted officer, and I presented
myself punctually at head-quarters, with a
pleasant consciousness that from the tips of







The Judge's Pets; or,

my spotless white gloves to the toes of my
varnished boots, my appearance was perfect
enough to satisfy even the critical eye of our
Colonel. As he mounted his brown horse, I
noticed the glance of approval which he cast
upon me, and turned to Charlie in a most
satisfied frame of mind, which prevented my
paying much attention to the cautions which
the Orderly was disposed to give me as to the
management of my tall steed. I had seen the
Colonel ride him often enough on similar oc-
casions, and had never noticed that there was
any difficulty in controlling him. We reached
the field where the rest of the division was
drawn up, looking very imposing. In a few
moments the Colonel turned to me and re-
quested that I would ride back and hasten
forward one of his regiments. I told Charlie
of my wish to go, but he stood stock-still. In
great wrath I pricked him sharply with my
spurs, and the next moment found myself







Dogs and Horses.

sprawling in the mud before his nose. Pain-
fully conscious of the suppressed amusement
of my brother officers, I picked myself up un-
hurt, but plastered from head to foot with dirt,
and too much crestfallen to have any desire
left except that of getting out of sight as soon
as possible."
The Colonel himself sometimes had very
hard battles with Charlie, and indeed I think
he was all the more fond of the horse for having
conquered him so often. Once when their com-
mander had been absent for some weeks, the
regiment went out to receive him in due form
on his return. Colonel George was riding
quietly along on Charlie, who had not been
on dress parade during his master's absence.
As he turned to pass through a certain white
gate he came suddenly in view of the regiment
drawn up in glittering ranks, with a bright sun
shining on every polished musket, and the band
playing gaily. The absurd old horse must







The Judges Pets; or,

needs pretend to be scared at the sight. He
swerved suddenly, and then reared, and be-
haved so badly that those looking on said any
one but the Colonel must have lost his seat.
He did lose his hat and sword, and you may
be sure he did not thank Charlie for thus
spoiling the effect of his grand reception. Nor
did the horse soon forget the scene and the
punishment he received. For long after he
returned to quiet life his friends wondered
why he would never pass a white gate without
jumping to the opposite side of the road, until
one of the officers explained his conduct, by
telling the story of the Colonel's reception.
When the horses were picketed at night
during a march, Charlie must always have the
first armful of forage. If he saw another horse
served first he pranced about in great indigna-
tion. So now when the groom goes into the
stable at feeding-time, Charlie stands stock-
still and listens. He hears the opening of the







Dogs and Horses.

grain-chest, and waits just long enough for
the man to reach his stall; but if there is a
moment's delay in the appearance of his oats,
and he suspects that some other horse is being
fed first, he makes his heels fly about in an
alarming way.
He knows the step of the Colonel's sister,
to whom he now belongs, and greets her with
a whinny as she enters the stable. Then he
presses close up to one side of his wide stall,
that she may have room to pass in and give
him the lump of white sugar which he always
expects from her hand. Every bright day he
is turned out into a vacant field, where he
prances and leaps about like a young colt,
rather than the venerable old horse he should
be at his years. Once he fairly jumped over
the rails, and was off down the street for a
race. After being ignominiously driven out
of several yards in the neighbourhood, where
he tried to make friendly calls, he trotted







The Judge's Pets; or,

quietly back, and thrust his nose into a
friendly hand for a mouthful of oats. While
he was enjoying his run in the field, six children
were mounted on the fence and feeding him
from their hands.
About once a year Charlie renews his youth
and goes off with another Colonel to play at
soldiering for two or three days. For days
beforehand his groom works at his coat to
make it as fine and silken as possible. His
long white tail is washed and combed until it
shines in the sun like spun grass, and when
the military saddle and bridle, bearing the
number of his old regiment, are put on, all his
friends assemble to see him start. He receives
a parting lump of sugar, and many injunctions
to be good, and at a touch of the spur is off
with the long lopping gallop which belongs to
his military training. He is followed by smiles
and tears as the group at the door think of
the gallant rider whom for three years he bore







Dogs and Horses.

through weary marches to many a hard-fought
battle-field.
He is whimsical as to his attendants, and
yields to kindness much more easily than to
force. When he was first brought to Boston
he was unfortunately placed in a stable on the
second floor, and it was very difficult to get
him down again, on account of his extreme
lameness. A friend of his master went to visit
nimand found several men trying to force him
down the stairs. Charlie (he had been named
in remembrance of the grey Charlie of the
Cplonel's boyhood) had planted all four feet
firmly, and would not move for pushes or
blows. The gentleman went up to him, patted
his head, and talked coaxingly to him for a
little while, and then gently took the bridle
Sand led him down, the horse following as if
he knew he had found his master's friend.
He is now as happy as a horse can be, with
kind friends, unlimited petting; and with very







The Yudge's Pets.

little work to do. May he live to a good old
age, and always be held in honour for the
scars which attest his long service in the good
cause.
Boys, if you would be like George when he
was a man, if you would be loved as he was
loved, and obeyed as he was obeyed, you must
try to be now what he was as a boy. No cruel
or cowardly boy ever made a noble man.
Begin now. Be kind to all little, dtmfb, de-
pendent creatures, and never be afraid to do
anything which it is plainly right to do. So
you shall be loved by your friends and feared
by your enemies, and respected byall. Whether
your battle for the right be fought amidst the
spiteful humming of rifle-balls or against foes
equally invisible that will meet you in the
quiet ways at home, you shall fight your fight
well, and your life shall be that of a hero.



























































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