Front Cover
 Front Matter
 Half Title
 Title Page
 Table of Contents
 True friendship
 Warriors and their animal...
 Great writers and animals
 Workers on behalf of animals
 Back Matter
 Back Cover

Group Title: Animal life readers
Title: Friendship of animals
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00085055/00001
 Material Information
Title: Friendship of animals
Series Title: Animal life readers
Physical Description: 180 p. : ill. ; 18 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Carrington, Edith
Weir, Harrison, 1824-1906 ( Illustrator )
George Bell & Sons ( Publisher )
C. Whittingham and Co ( Printer )
Chiswick Press ( Printer )
Publisher: George Bell and Sons
Place of Publication: London
Manufacturer: Chiswick Press ; Charles Whittingham and Co.
Publication Date: 1896
Subject: Children -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Animals -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Human-animal relationships -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Children's stories   ( lcsh )
Children's stories -- 1896   ( lcsh )
Readers -- 1896   ( rbgenr )
Prize books (Provenance) -- 1896   ( rbprov )
Hand-colored illustrations -- 1896   ( local )
Bldn -- 1896
Genre: Children's stories
Readers   ( rbgenr )
Prize books (Provenance)   ( rbprov )
Hand-colored illustrations   ( local )
novel   ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage: England -- London
Statement of Responsibility: by Edith Carrington ; illustrated by Harrison Weir.
General Note: Animal life readers edited by Edith Carrington and Ernest Bell, with pictures by Harrison Weir and others.
General Note: Baldwin Library copy: some illustrations are hand-colored and hand drawn; probably by young owner.
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00085055
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved by the source institution and holding location.
Resource Identifier: aleph - 002223430
notis - ALG3679
oclc - 233648357

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover 1
        Front Cover 2
    Front Matter
        Front Matter
        Advertising 1
        Advertising 2
    Half Title
        Page i
        Page ii
    Title Page
        Page iii
        Page iv
        Page v
    Table of Contents
        Page vi
    True friendship
        Page 1
        Page 2
        Page 3
        Page 4
        Page 5
        Page 6
        Page 7
        Page 8
        Page 9
        Page 10
        Page 11
        Page 12
        Page 13
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        Page 15
        Page 16
        Page 17
        Page 18
        Page 19
        Page 20
        Page 21
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        Page 23
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        Page 25
        Page 26
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        Page 50
        Page 51
        Page 52
        Page 53
        Page 54
        Page 55
        Page 56
    Warriors and their animal friends
        Page 57
        Page 58
        Page 59
        Page 60
        Page 61
        Page 62
        Page 63
        Page 64
        Page 65
        Page 66
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        Page 76
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        Page 82
        Page 83
        Page 84
        Page 85
        Page 86
        Page 87
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        Page 93
        Page 94
        Page 95
        Page 96
        Page 97
        Page 98
        Page 99
        Page 100
    Great writers and animals
        Page 101
        Page 102
        Page 103
        Page 104
        Page 105
        Page 106
        Page 107
        Page 108
        Page 109
        Page 110
        Page 111
        Page 112
        Page 113
        Page 114
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        Page 116
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        Page 118
        Page 119
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        Page 121
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        Page 123
        Page 124
        Page 125
        Page 126
        Page 127
        Page 128
        Page 129
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        Page 131
        Page 132
        Page 133
        Page 134
        Page 135
        Page 136
        Page 137
        Page 138
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        Page 140
        Page 141
        Page 142
        Page 143
        Page 144
        Page 145
        Page 146
        Page 147
        Page 148
        Page 149
        Page 150
        Page 151
        Page 152
        Page 153
        Page 154
    Workers on behalf of animals
        Page 155
        Page 156
        Page 157
        Page 158
        Page 159
        Page 160
        Page 161
        Page 162
        Page 163
        Page 164
        Page 165
        Page 166
        Page 167
        Page 168
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        Page 174
        Page 175
        Page 176
        Page 177
        Page 178
        Page 179
        Page 180
    Back Matter
        Back Matter
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
Full Text

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I. Our Old Friends.
TON. Illus. by HAR-

II. Tame and Wild.
TON. Illus. by HAR-

II. From ManyLands.
TON. Illus. by HAR-

IV. Man's Helpers. By
Illus. by HARRISON
WEIR. 1s.

V. Nature's Wonders.
TON. Illus. by HAR-

VI. The Friendship of
Animals. By EDITH

VII. Ages Ago. By EDITH

Rover and his Friends,
and other Tales.

Dick and his Cat, and
other Tales. Illus. by
F. M. COOPER. 10d.

History of the Robins.

The Animals on Strike,
and other Tales. Illus.
by F. M. COOPER. Is.

Featherland. By MAN-
VILLE FENN. Illus. by F.
W. KEYL and A. C. GOULD.

Tuppy, the Life of a
Donkey. Illus. by HAR-

Poor Blossom, the
Story of a Horse.
Illus. Is. [Immediately.



Friendship of Animals





Published by Messrs. Bell for the Humanitarian League.


THE object of this little volume is to show to what a
great extent animals are capable of possessing, and
calling forth in others, the many noble qualities implied
in the word friendship."
The habit we fall into of measuring different beings
by different standards is surely an unfortunate one for
o animals. Unselfish devotion, ready sympathy, patient
endurance, unquestioning trust and lasting affection,
are valued amongst the highest virtues when found in
man, but in the animals we are to'-apt to take them
for granted, and to overlook their deep significance
and value.
Numerous beautiful instances of the friendship be-
tween men and animals are recorded, and those given
in this book must be taken only as types. In presence
of the wonderful power shown by those animals who
come into friendly relation with man, in adopting and
even surpassing the attributes of their human asso-
ciates, it can only be regarded as a serious indictment
against him that almost every species of wild animal
flees at his approach, and sees in him only its most
implacable enemy.
The volume concludes with a brief mention of some


of the most prominent workers for the more just and
sympathetic treatment of animals.
The best thanks of the editors are due to Mrs.
Suckling for her kindness in supplying valuable in-
formation, and to Mr. Colam, of the R.S.P.C.A., for his
ready permission to allow both literary extracts and
illustrations to be taken from the pages of The
Animal World."
E. B.






1 55

/ 7



IT is not easy to define what the word friend means,
for it is a very elastic word, and means very different
things for different people. Yet those who have a true
friend understand its meaning well enough. Some
folks have a habit of calling their acquaintances, their
comrades or their connections friends." This is quite
a mistake, because among them all there may not be
one who would be found faithful through poverty and
riches, in sickness and health alike, and whose devotion
would bear any trial. Others there are who think
those their friends from whom they have received
worldly benefit, or at whose hands they hope to gain
But the essence of true friendship is that it should be
disinterested ; we love: our friend not for what he gives
us, but for what he is. A true friend is one who desires
our highest good, is not afraid to rebuke us when we
do wrong, is proud and glad when we do right, sees


that we are capable of lofty things, and grieves when
we do ourselves injustice.
Such a friend as this understands our nature, his
dislike for our faults does not shake his love for our-
selves. Happy is the man, woman, boy or girl who has
friends like these! They are a rare gift, and life has
nothing better to give. Speaking of this noble and
sacred human friendship, Emerson says, "I awoke
this morning with devout thanksgiving for my friends,
the old and the new. Shall I not call God the Beauti-
ful, Who daily showeth Himself so to me in His Gifts ?
-My friends have come to me unsought, The great
God gave them to me." But though it is not everyone
who is blessed with a perfect human friendship, there
are certain humble friends-equally the gift of God-
whose sincere affection we all may have.
The dog's passionate devotion, strong as death, has
been the blessing of many a lonely life. He almost
seems to have been created to fill a great blank in this
world,-to become the friend of the friendless, the
consoler of those on whom men turn their backs.
The cat is not far behind him, if at all, in powers of
brightening human life, though her sphere and qualifi-
cations are different from his. Both these animals,
dear and beautiful, delight to make our dwellings their
own, while outside a host of gentle, docile and intelligent
creatures labour for us and contribute to our comfort.
Horses, sheep, cattle, poultry, all tend to make life
in the country less solitary as well as less laborious
and hard. Besides these, a multitude of lovely free
creatures, swift-winged birds, innocent and harmless

wild animals, brilliant, gay or industrious insects give
a charm to out-door life.
Each and all of these are our friends, if we will deign
to treat them as such. But if we would have real
friends among these wondrous creatures we must learn
to understand them, and to make a careful study of
their requirements. We cannot hope to make and to
keep a human friend without knowledge of his
character, his wants, his nature; neither can we make
and keep animal friends unless we learn much of their
needs, their dispositions, their joys and pains. There-
fore he is a false and not a true friend of animals who
keeps them wrongly, feeds them badly, treats them in
any way unfairly. Many people profess to be "very
fond of" birds, or fishes, or of squirrels and dormice,
or other free wild animals, and then when you go into
their rooms you see these unfortunate little beings
boxed up in cages or dying slowly in an aquarium.
This is an odd way of showing fondness! What
should we say of a friend who shut us up in prison?
We should call him a jailer, a treacherous enemy. No,
self-denial is the foundation of all friendship and love,
nobody is truly fond of creatures who makes them
prisoners, however much he may wish to have them
near him.

ANIMALS are capable of feeling friendship, and very
disinterested friendship too, not only for ourselves but
for each other. They sorely need a friend, and it is a
great, though a very common cruelty to isolate any


creature and keep him'quite alone, without sympathy
either of men or his fellow beasts.
Either we should ourselves be the friend of any
animal we keep, and allow him some of our company,
or he should have an animal comrade. Dogs, horses,
and other domestic creatures, though they must of
course depend on us for food, daily show that they
love us for what we are, not for what we give them.
And by the odd friendships which they form among
themselves, animals show that they enjoy each other's
society as well as that of man, quite apart from any
solid advantage which they reap from it. Mr. Angell,
of America, than whom no truer friend of animals ever
breathed, tells a funny little story of how he picked up
a friend or two in the course of a solitary walk.
He says I was walking once when I met a fine-
looking dog. I talked to him pleasantly for a minute
or two, as I usually do, and he seemed to conclude
that I was a friend, and followed me. Presently we
passed a house, and another dog came out, and, after
comparing notes with the first dog, he also followed me.
After walking some distance, I looked around and
found that a good-sized pig had joined the dogs. I
kept on considerably further, and they all followed. I
then turned back to the house where the last dog came
from and asked the man if he could explain the matter.
He said that his dog was the friend of the dog that
first followed me, and that his dog and his pig were such
fast friends that it was impossible to keep them apart.
Unless the pen was very high, the pig would jump over
to be with the dog." Here was a chain of friendships !

I/ r



41 ''1


The first dog followed Mr. Angell for love of him,
the second dog followed for love of the first, and the pig
brought up the rear out of sincere affection for dog
number two. When loving kindness can weave a bond
so quickly and well, what a pity to use any other chain !
As a rule, animals living together learn to love each
other, no latter how different their natures are, and
they contrive to talk in some mysterious way. Pro-
fessor Romanes tells of a cat who rushed upstairs to
fetch the cook, mewing and trying to drag her down
into the kitchen. Puss was evidently in a terrible state
of mind, so the servant made haste to follow her. On
reaching the kitchen she found a parrot, with whom
Puss was on very friendly terms, accidentally fixed by
the feet in a big bowl of dough which she had set
before the fire to rise.
Poor Poll was struggling and screaming violently, it
was as bad for her as it would have been for a man
stuck in a bog. She was already up to her knees, and
had she not been rescued by her faithful and shrewd
friend Pussy, she would soon have been smothered.


DOGS have been known to form strong friendships
with other dogs, horses, or geese, and cats with small
birds, rabbits and rats. A fine dog belonging to the
famous Mr. De la Rue, of London, afforded protection
in his kennel to a hen. It appears that foxes, who
were allowed to prowl at will about the estate, in
order that cruel sportsmen might hunt them to death,


had made sad havoc at the farm where this dog
One hen determined to secure her property against
the robbers, so she marched boldly into the dog's
kennel and laid an egg in one corner, advertising the
useful deed by the usual cackling noise. The dog
was not at all offended at the liberty taken with his
house, but on the contrary seemed quite proud of the
confidence placed in him.
Day after day the hen continued to lay her eggs
there, and the dog as regularly brought them out,
carrying them most carefully so as not to break the
shells. He deposited them as near the farm house as
he could, and the housekeeper always rewarded him
for his honesty and cleverness.
A pretty little Skye terrier named Duckie," once
made herself the champion of a hen and her family,
who were placed under a coop upon the lawn. Her
mistress said jokingly, "You must take care of the
little chickens, Duckie," and from that moment Duckie
mounted guard over them.
Nothing would induce her to leave the coop; she
remained by it all day long, pursuing the chickens
when they strayed, and hunting them back to their
mother. Evidently she had counted them, for she
always knew when one was absent. One dark evening
a chick escaped into a thicket of laurels, and in her
zeal to bring the truant safely home, Duckie squeezed
her too tightly between her pretty, white teeth.
The chicken died. After this Duckie's penitence
and grief were most touching. She was terribly


ashamed of herself and felt in sad disgrace. The next
morning when she came in to prayers, as her habit
was, some one said "Oh! Duckie, where is the poor
little chicken ?"
This reproach was too much for Duckie's feelings.
Down went her tail between her legs, and she walked
out of the room. Tender-hearted little doggie She
never hurt a chicken again, but was their careful
protector till they were able to take care of themselves.
I was once at a farm house where a sick hen was
placed near the fire in a basket. At once a little
terrier dog took her under his care, though he was a
fierce little fellow, and a terror to strangers. He licked
her feathery face, growled at every person or animal
who offered to touch her, and allowed her to take his
own food, though he made it a point of honour never
to touch anything given to her. My own collie dog
at the same time struck up a friendship with a young
lamb, who was being brought up by hand in the
kitchen. She looked on with a benevolent sort of in-
terest, while the lamb was sucking milk out of a teapot,
and the pairwould then lie down together on the hearth-
rug, the snowy wool of the lamb making a fine contrast
with her dog-friend's coat of black satin and gold.
When a pair of horses who have long worked
together are parted by death, the survivor often pines
after his lost friend. More than one horse has been
known to refuse food and die from sorrow in this way.
These facts show us that we must include friendship
under the needs of an animal, if we wish to make him
truly happy.


Much ill-temper, vice, sullenness, and stupidity in
animals comes from being misunderstood and denied
companionship. Men and women grow stupid and
morose under solitary confinement,-how much more
then must animals do so, whom Nature framed for
free intercourse with each other, and who have no
resources against melancholy?
Let us seek, then, to know the animals with whom
we hold fellowship, that we may be true and not false
friends to them. They will like us better than other
friends, but when we have not time or opportunity to
associate with them, we must give them friends of
their own kind.


WE are accustomed to talk about a cat and dog life,"
meaning one of perpetual squabbles or even worse
disagreements. But this saying, like many others of
the same class, is based on error. No better friends
can there be that cats and dogs who have been
brought up together.
Even when a cat and dog, strange to one another,
find that they must reside under the same roof, they
will soon become first-rate friends. They have enough
common sense to see that it is for their mutual comfort
to dwell together in harmony, and will very soon learn
to agree.
The fact is that human interference often makes
animals unfriendly to each other. Most puppy dogs
seem to feel no hostility by nature towards cats,


though the cat, from the very earliest age, will show
fight on the approach of any dog. Before a kitten can
see, she will make a ridiculous and puny attempt to
arch her back and hiss in a whisper if she smells a
dog, though he may be big enough to swallow her like
a pill. At this her good-tempered shaggy, smooth, or
curly enemy merely wags his tail, and appears to
smile. These hostile demonstrations on pussy's part
proceed from pure fright; the kittens leave them off
directly they have learnt by experience that the dog
does them no harm.
A little stray kitten which I found in the road and
brought home, would always creep into the kennel of
a big collie dog and sleep curled up on his back.
Nothing would induce the two to part.
All our dogs had been brought up to be friendly
with cats, but I did not expect so much courage on
the kitten's side. In the morning, Lassie, the collie,
would give a lazy yawn and stretch, taking care not to
disturb the little kitten, instead of bounding out of the
kennel directly she heard my step.
She would seem to say I can't get up She is on
my back,-a poor little baby of whom I must be very
careful." It takes some time to establish a friendship
between a full-grown cat and a dog, but it can be done
with patience. As a rule the dog is glad enough to
make overtures to puss, and seems quite apologetic
when she rejects them, going away with a sort of look
which means "There! never mind, she will come
round in time. I can't expect her to take all at once
to a clumsy fellow like me." He will not revenge


himself when scratched and clawed by her, because his
noble heart bids him respect one less strong than
himself, even though she should be more spiteful.

The cat and
named Wenzel,


dog belonging to a clever German
who wrote a book on the language



of animals, were strongly attached to one another.
Whenever the dog had anything nice given to him he
shared it with the cat. One day the master wished to
see whether puss would be equally mindful of her
absent dog comrade.
So he gave the cat a share of his own dinner while
the dog was out. Puss greatly enjoyed the feast, and
finished it, apparently without a thought of the dog.
When he had himself done, M. Wenzel put away
some meat which was left into the cupboard, without
locking the door, and then went away leaving the cat
in the passage.
But puss, who had noticed where the remains of
the meal had been put, was not so forgetful of her
four-legged companion as she had seemed. Going in
search of him, she mewed very loud in a peculiar way
which meant Come along! See what I have got for
you." She conducted him to the door of the room in
which the meat was, where they both waited till
somebody chanced to open it.
Then the cat led the dog to the cupboard, contrived
to open the doors, and pushing the meat off the plate
towards him, offered it as a compensation for his loss.
The wife of M. Wenzel, who watched this scene, re-
ported it to her husband on his return.

THE education of our friend the horse ought to be in
some respects like that of a child. His lessonsmust be
made pleasant to him, and then he will learn easily


and remember long. Few creatures have better me-
mories than the horse, both for people and places.
He never forgets the way to any place to which he
has once been, and he bears in mind both injuries and
Anyone who has been in the habit of driving a
horse must have noticed how well he recollects houses
before which he has once waited? and thinks he ought
to stop there again. I once saw a village carrier, who
was very good to his old horse, struggling angrily with
him at the corner of the road.
"What is this ?" I said to the man, Why, John, I
never saw you quarrelling with your horse before!"
" Please, Ma'am," said the carrier, He will go round
the village before he goes home, and I have no parcels
to deliver to-night." The horse thought that the man
was neglecting his duty, and was determined at any
rate to do his own.
A French doctor was in the habit of visiting his
patients in the morning, upon horseback, after which
his son mounted the same horse in order to take round
the medicines prescribed. This sensible horse needed
no guidance, but always stopped of his own accord
before every door at which his master had called in
the morning.
At another time a soldier on his way from one place
to another lost himself in the open country. The
night was drawing in, snow lay on the ground, and it
was too dark for the traveller to read the words upon
the sign post which stood where two ways met.
The man felt sure that one road was the right


turning, but his horse was equally certain that the
other was the proper way. The animal was so certain
of knowing best, that his rider tried in vain for a
quarter of an hour before he could make him take the
other. This was the more strange because the horse
was deliberately turning his back upon his own stable
by choosing the track he persisted in.
Even after fairly starting the horse seemed ill at
ease the whole way, and kept looking behind him.
He trotted slower and slower the farther they went.
At last the pair came to a village where the master
was able to ask the way. Sure enough the horse's
memory was better than his rider's. The man had
put the animal on a false track.
Sometimes this good memory on the part of the
horse tells tales of his master's habits. Many a horse
obstinately refuses to pass a public house where his
master is a frequent visitor, and should he become a
teetotaler, will reproach him with his old bad habits,
by lingering around the old haunts. A horse named
Jack, whose master was rather too fond of his glass,
once grew tired of waiting outside while the man
wasted his time within the bar.
Thrusting his head in at the open door, Jack took
his master's collar between his teeth, and in a very
gentle manner drew him out and obliged him to
resume his work.
On the other hand should the horse possess a
virtuous master, the same truth holds good. A horse
belonging to the good and illustrious Polish patriot,
*Kosciusco, bore silent testimony to his master's be-


nevolent nature. Wishing to do a kindness to an
invalid and at the same time to escape his thanks,


Kosciusco sent a young man on the errand upon his
own horse.
On returning to give an account of himself, the


messenger smilingly said Next time you lend me
your horse I wish you would lend me your purse
"Why, then ?" asked Kosciusco.
"Because, directly he sees a poor man, no matter
whether he is galloping or not, he stops short, and
nothing will make him go on again till the needy
individual has received something. Only judge of my
embarrassment! I had not a penny iii my pocket.
There was nothing for it but to make a pretence of
giving money. All the way along the road I was
continually making charitable gestures!"


THOSE who are in the habit of ill-treating their horses
cannot keep their cruelty a secret, the horse will betray
them. If he is in good condition, willing and good-
tempered, he speaks well for his master, but if he looks
wretched, and is sullen and vicious, he speaks ill of
The first point to be remembered in dealing with a
horse is never to lose your temper with him. This is
a wise rule for all who have control of other living
creatures, whether children, servants, animals, or under-
lings of any kind whatever,-for if you cannot govern
yourself how can you hope to govern others ?
Remember that your voice has a great power over
animals. Harsh angry tones, coarse shouts and bad
language terrify a horse and make him morose and
stupid. He will need no other guide but your voice


if you use it well and do not spoil his temper and
intelligence by blows and cruel jerkings at the rein.
The stable in which a horse is kept should be light,
well-ventilated and drained. To be kept in total
darkness and then suddenly brought out into a blaze
of light often makes horses blind. And a damp, ill-
ventilated stable causes rheumatism, colds, coughs,
glanders, and other diseases.
If possible, you should have the stall at least six
feet wide and nine feet long, so that the horse can turn
round or lie down comfortably. Have the floor level,
as standing on a slope will strain his legs. In loading,
consider well the distance to be travelled. Also the
nature of the ground.
A load which a horse can draw easily on level
ground becomes too heavy for him up a hill. Terrible
cruelty to horses arises because they are loaded by
persons who do not know the hilly nature of the road
which they must travel. Great injury is done not only
to the horse, but to the owner's pocket thereby. Wise
owners of horses will never overload them. It is better
to divide the load and go twice.
If your load is heavy let the horse stop often,
especially when pulling up hill. The shafts should be
propped up and a stone put behind the wheel unless
the cart can be drawn across the road. It is of no use
to stop, unless proper time is allowed for the horse to
get his breath. Otherwise the stop with the effort to
start again too soon does more harm than good.
Should your horse meet with an accident or fall ill,
consult a proper horse doctor at once, and do not allow


anybody to give him drugs. Never allow anybody to
tease or tickle your horse, as vicious habits are thus
easily induced. Keep the harness soft and clean,
especially the inside of the collar and saddle. If the
perspiration is allowed to dry in, it will cause irritation
and produce galls. Many a horse is punished for
"jibbing," or refusing to draw his load, when in reality
he is no rebel,
but is merely
suffering from a
tight collar,
S Pressing on his
w indpipe, it half
suffocates him
as he pulls.
STJhe collar
t e:e. S/ should fit close-
ly, with suffi-
". '. cient space at
the bottom to
admit your
hand. A collar
obstructs breathing if too small, while one too large
will cramp the shoulders, draw them into an un-
natural position, and prevent the blood from cir-
culating. Do not buckle the girth too tight, and
never permit the farrier to weaken a horse's foot
by cutting away the wall of the hoof, the frog, or
the sole. Shoes should be removed or changed
every three or four weeks. No horse must ever be
allowed to stand in dirty stables, as the gases


arising from manure will taint his food and irritate
his lungs as well as his eyes.
Many diseases of the feet are brought on by unclean
stables. The breath of the animal makes his hay
unwholesome, it should not be kept above the stall.
The horse should be cleaned outside the stable if
possible; when done inside, the dust fouls the crib and
makes him loathe his food.
Horses feed naturally on the ground, and a hay-
rack over his head is not recommended. But a nose-
bag, out of which he can eat without tossing it into
the air or groping in vain for the oats is good. Such a
one has been invented, it is tied to his neck by the
bottom, instead of hanging its uncomfortable weight
from his head. It is called Langford's patent nose-
bag," and is a great boon.

he would say, Please, my good master, don't forget
to give me a nice grooming when I come home tired
out; you cannot think how much better I shall work
next day if you will rub my legs well with your hand,
and bandage them up. And just look closely at my
hoofs to see if any stone or nail is fixed there, which
I cannot get out myself. My hoofs want cleaning
too, with a brush, or they are sure to get sore and
make me lame. I want a clean bed as well as you do,
though straw will do well enough for me. If it is
very cold, cover me with a rug, or perhaps I shall
wake with a cough and bad pains.


"When you use the curry-comb do not scrape me
hard-some of us with fine skins cannot bear to be
combed at all, we like a good hard brush better, it
will make our coats glossy as silk. Why do you put
things called blinkers close to our eyes ? They bother
us a good deal.


"A horse I once met told me that these horrid
blinkers were put for the first time on a horse which
was wall-eyed, by a nobleman who was his master, so
that folks should not see the ugly-looking defect. After
that, other people stuck blinkers on their horses too,
whether they were blind of one eye or not, just that
they might be like the nobleman. They thought the


blinkers a good place for painting the ornaments they
call' coats-of-arms upon.
It makes us frightened to have our eyes covered up,
and often the blinkers tease us by rubbing our eye-
lashes and flapping about. But there is a worse thing
than blinkers, a strap which you put round our necks


called the bearing rein. I only wish you could feel
it yourself, that's all, then I am sure you would never
put it on a horse again.
Sometimes I see men pulling little trucks up a hill,
and I notice that they push their heads out in front of
them as they go. I wonder how they would manage
if a tight leather strap tied their heads back? Oh,


the pain and misery are dreadful to bear! Besides
this, it makes one look ugly.
Another word-please recollect that though we are
big creatures our stomachs are small in proportion to
our size. We get hungry faster than a dog or cat
does, and we ought to have a little feed often. You
see when we are out in the fields we eat all day, yet
never get too much.
If you take us to work for you, pray let us have
food enough, or we shall get ill, weak, and worn out
before our time. Horses want more nourishing food
when they are working. Grass or hay does very well
at other times, but we like oats best after a hard day's
toil, or, better still, a nice warm mash.
"We want a little water and food about every two
hours when on our tedious journeys up and down hill,
or along the dreary roads drawing loads for men. I
often wonder what you can want with so many things !
A horse wants only a few. Please try and give us the
little we ask.
I think that men and boys do not know how easily
frightened we are. If they did they would speak
gently and never beat us. Nearly all the faults we
have come from fear-it is fear that makes us shy,
fear that makes us jib, fear that now and then
makes us ill-tempered, though, as a rule, we are so
If you would tell us kindly when we ought to stop
and when we ought to go on, we would do it, but how
can we tell what you want if you whip us for every-
thing? If I am hit for standing still, and then hit


for going on, how can I possibly tell what I am to
do? I am not stupid. Speak to me, and I shall learn
without your tugging at my bridle or flogging me."


THE wonderful horse tamer, Mr. Rarey, used neither
whip, stick, nor any other means of punishment to
bring refractory horses into submission. The most
remarkable case of subduing a savage horse by the
power of kindness was shown when the celebrated
"Cruiser," belonging to Lord Colchester, was rendered
docile as a lamb by Mr. Rarey.
This horse was so vicious, and showed such a
terrible temper, that the care of him was too dangerous
an office for any man to undertake. For days no
one dared approach his stall. He was fed through a
long funnel. On one occasion he seized an iron bar
and tore it in two with his teeth!
There was, no doubt, some hidden reason for the
ferocity of Cruiser. The fury of an animal generally
proceeds from some unsatisfied want, and this is
especially the case where they are kept in confinement.
Mr. Rarey knew all about the horse, yet felt so sure
of taming him that he undertook to pay one hundred
pounds if not successful.
The grooms and stable men smiled at each other
when they heard of this. "Cruiser is more than a
match for him," they all said. However, the trial of
strength came on between the horse and the man. It
was a dangerous moment for Mr. Rarey. Twice the


horse flew at him like a tiger, with a savage cry, and
it was as much as Mr. Rarey could do to keep out of
reach of his teeth.
After many attempts, Cruiser's head was fastened
to the rack. And then for twenty minutes he raged
like a mad creature. So fearful was the frenzy of the
animal that Lord Colchester called out to the horse
tamer, Don't peril your life, Mr. Rarey, never mind
the hundred pounds "
But Mr. Rarey had a firm will, one of the great
secrets of managing animals; he also possessed great
patience, another necessity if creatures are to be well
ruled. He persevered, and Lord Colchester states,
"in three hours Mr. Rarey and myself mounted him,
though he had not been ridden for nearly three
years !"
Another gentleman who witnessed this almost
magical effectof power combined with gentlenesswrote,
" A few days ago Cruiser was a frantic savage; now
he is without a bridle, following Mr. Rarey like a dog;
stopping or trotting just as he is told. Every trace of
savage life has left his eye, and he enjoys being
fondled." It is by studying the nature of the horse in
his wild state that we find some clue to this mystery.
Elephants, horses, swine, and many other creatures
live in herds while roaming at liberty, under the
charge of a leader of their own species. If by any
chance one animal becomes separated from the rest,
he becomes gloomy, morose, and at last savage and
A solitary elephant is fierce, and pursues men, so is


a solitary wild boar. The horse partakes of the nature
of other wild animals who live in tribes. When he is
taken from the prairies and forced to work, man be-
comes his leader; and the horse submits, because he
acknowledges his chieftain in man. Cruiser, and others
like him, high-spirited and sensitive, need a master or
captain both gentle and strong. When once they find
such an one they obey him like a dog, but the man must
first prove himself worthy, or the horse will not obey.
By brute force, blows, kicks, and bad words no man
will ever master the horse. He is far stronger than
the mightiest man who ever lived, and can give harder
blows and more fearful kicks, though he cannot use
bad language. If it comes to a battle between a
spirited horse and a man, the horse will conquer,
unless the man proves his superiority in some better
way than violence.
Until this fierce animal met Mr. Rarey he had
found no chieftain, and was terrified and enraged at
being shut up and left to himself. It is most likely
that all his faults had been made worse instead of
better by this, though from a colt he had been hard
to manage.
Had Mr. Rarey attempted to treat Cruiser as the
horse wished at first to treat him, he would have been
a dead man in five minutes. He showed instead that
he was in some ways stronger than a horse, because
wiser, more patient, more long-suffering, more merciful,
and with power that did not depend on muscles.
Animals are quick to see this greatness in the race
above them. Though they cannot understand it, they


know that somehow man's mind will conquer their
bodies, though his muscles are weaker than theirs.
It is seldom that a horse so fierce as Cruiser is
found, but the same rule applies to all horses. Kind-
ness, with firm, persevering patience and gentleness,
will do anything with them: brutality will do nothing.
Cruelty to horses is folly, because it is not only useless
but harmful. It harms the body of the horse and
wears him out more than any amount of hard work,
but it hurts the soul of the man, who shows it far


THE more we treat donkeys like horses, the more like
horses they will be. Their race is one with that of
the horse; in size, the ass, when well treated, approaches
him, for in Spain donkeys reach a height of fourteen
hands, or even more.
That the donkey will exist without comforts, which
are necessary to the horse, is no reason why he should
have none. He wants grooming, proper food, a clean,
dry bed, and change of food like his fine, big cousin.
It is because he gets none of these things that Neddy
droops his long ears, hangs his head, turns morose, a
little bit sulky sometimes, and will do no more work
than he can help.
But will any living creature work under such miser-
able conditions? The best and wisest man or boy
who ever lived would turn sullen if he had to bear half
what a donkey does. The ass shows his sense in






declining to be cheerful and energetic when he is
starved, overloaded, badly housed or not sheltered at
all, and never cleaned.
Those who treat donkeys well find a great advantage
in it. A good meal before starting to work in the
morning, a little corn at least once in the day, and a
second feed at night of roots, hay, or oats are the
smallest allowance on which a donkey can be expected
to earn his master's living.
Water must be clean, or the ass turns up his nose
at it. He is among the cleanest of creatures, never
has any fleas on him, and detests mud and dirt of any
sort. He enjoys grooming as much as a horse does,
and needs it as much. If used well, the donkey will
be a good servant for thirty, forty, or even fifty years,
but he seldom lives for a quarter of that time in this
country. Though he is the poor man's friend, being
cheaper to keep than the horse, and costing less to
buy, the donkey meets with such disgraceful return
for his helpfulness that his life is over or he is worn
out at about the age of twelve, in nine cases out of ten.
One great cause.of the ill-usage of the ass in this
country is the silly habit of turning him into a joke.
People must be hard up for something to laugh at
when they can find a jest in any animal's sufferings.
Far from being an object of contempt, the ass is a
clever animal, more so than the horse, and more so
sometimes than the fools who jeer at him.
An amusing sight was till lately to be seen on
a great bridge in the heart of Bristol, where a man
stood every night selling hot potatoes from a little


cart drawn by a donkey. All day long the busy
throng pass and repass this bridge, and the trade is
Not till midnight, when the crowds melted away, did
the man and his patient little Neddy think it time for
going home to seek their own supper. One night I
happened to be coming home late after a concert, and
was waiting for a tramcar on the bridge. The little
cart stood close to me, but the man was talking to a
policeman on the other side of the road.
Presently the big bell from a church clock near began
to toll twelve, and all at once I noticed a change in the
donkey's ears. He took no particular notice at the
first toll of the bell, nor at the second, but when seven
or eight strokes had fallen, his ears began slowly
to rise.
Nine! ten! "-the ears pricked themselves eagerly;
"Eleven "-they stood bolt upright-" Twelve! "
Before the sound had finished vibrating, off rattled the
little cart as hard as it could pelt, and I saw Neddy
no more. .The man ran laughing after it.
Neddy could hear ten o'clock strike, or eleven,
without moving a muscle, but twelve meant stable and
carrots, and he was off like a shot. He had learnt to
count without going to school. Certainly the folk
who treat so sensible a creature as this like some
stupid wooden doll or a sack of flour, and try to govern
him by blows, are far more senseless than he is.



LORD SHAFTESBURY, one of the best men who ever
lived, and one who did more to promote the proper
treatment of animals than any nobleman before him,
was proud to be called "the donkey's friend." When
his attention had once been called to the sad condition
of costermongers' donkeys in the east end of London,
the earl never rested till he had done something to
ameliorate their lot.
He rightly thought that the best way to make the
men take a pride in the donkeys, instead of beating
and ill-using them, or keeping the poor creatures on
short commons, was to interest the costermongers in
the animals they drove. He held meetings, gave
addresses, and offered rewards for the best groomed,
finest, strongest, and most comfortable looking donkeys.
The measure proved a complete success: the men
had, in many cases, been thoughtless rather than
brutal, and had fallen into an error which many people
commit, namely, that of fancying animals to be so
different from themselves as to be beyond the reach
of sympathy and the rule of love.
The working men highly appreciated Lord Shaftes-
bury's efforts on behalf of themselves and their donkeys,
for they felt that in becoming less a brutal tyrant a
man becomes more worthy of being human. As a
tribute of gratitude and good-fellowship, the coster-
mongers of London presented the good earl with a
living token of their regard. This was nothing less




%.- |\-^^~t


im ililfa..


than a moke," a very handsome fellow indeed, and
also a barrow for him to draw. There can, we know,
be no greater compliment paid us by any body of
men than a desire on their part that we should be
their comrades. Lord Shaftesbury was delighted that
the costermongers should wish to treat him as one of
In the justice room at his residence of St. Giles; the
barrow was always kept, and he would never part with
it. From the favourite "moke" he was forced to part,
for after a peaceful life spent in drawing the lawn-
mower of his noble owner, this lucky animal passed
away to the land of happy creatures.
As if to show his pleasure in being surnamed the
"friend of that humble race, this good-hearted peer
conferred upon the costermonger's gift his own title.
Though the moke had always gone by the name of
" Coster Jack he was re-named "Shaftesbury." And
when he died the earl caused him to be buried in his
own estate with the following epitaph :

"Friend of the poor !-no higher name is thine,
Shaftesbury, thou noblest of an ancient line.
Friend of the poor Lie buried in this grave,
Thou humble beast his brother 'costers' gave
For Christ, who in His hour of triumph sate
On a young ass, thy form hath consecrate,
And bid us ponder how God's work may join
Both man and beast to God in sympathy Divine!"



FOREMOST among our animal friends comes the dog,
who loves us for our own sakes, no matter whether we
are rich or poor, old. or young, ugly or handsome, good


or bad. If we wish to be true and not false friends to
him in return, we must find out what he needs and
make sure that he has it.
There are three great-wants that the dog feels, when


kept by us, and as he cannot ask in our words, we
must attend to them without waiting for him to plead
for himself. The first great want is proper food, the
second is proper housing, and the third is exercise.
Every dog ought to have as much as he can eat of
wholesome food once a day, though for some dogs it
is better to give food twice. The dinner or supper
should consist of a mixture of meat, vegetables, and
meal of some kind. He ought not to have raw meat,
and bones should be given sparingly.
When meat is bought for a dog the coarsest parts
are best, but no horse flesh should ever be offered him.
Lumps of cold potato or green stuff are not food for
a dog, but if carefully cut up and mixed with a little
gravy and dripping, with a few shreds of meat, he
will think them a feast.
Dog biscuit is not good for an entire diet; it is no
better for a dog than dry ship biscuit would be for a
man, all the year round. The bits of dry meat in
these biscuits do him no good, and are often of a very
bad kind. It is far better to give oatmeal or any fresh
food, though dog biscuit may be better than nothing.
It is a capital plan to keep a pot for the dog, into
which may be thrown any waste bits from the kitchen.
When boiled together he will relish pieces which he
would disdain otherwise, and he likes a flavour of
meat in his supper. We must not forget that naturally
he is a flesh-eating animal, and cannot be comfortable
without any flesh at all. Sheep's paunch, ox cheek,
or any odd bits bought cheap will do well if nicely
cooked and mixed up with vegetables and meal.


Liver is good now and then, about once a week.
Fresh water should always be kept within reach of
every dog, at all times. As to his house, he ought
never to be put into a damp kennel. Four bricks
should be placed so as to keep it above the ground,
and a few pieces of board nailed together to make a
wooden platform ought to be placed outside for him
to lie on when the weather is close.
The kennel ought to be well washed and painted
inside with turps once a fortnight at least, the ground
or paved yard round it should be well washed, and if
a little carbolic acid be mixed with the water, it is all
the better for his health and that of the household
near which he lives. If dogs sleep indoors, a mat, or
straw bed, must be given them.
In his kennel the dog ought to have a clean thick
bed of straw or pine shavings, changed as often as
possible. The door of it should be turned away from
the wind in winter, and in summer it should be shaded
from the heat. For this reason it is best to make a
dog's house movable.
In very cold weather a flap or curtain must be
nailed over the opening in such a way as to let down
when wanted. Dogs suffer much from rheumatism
and cold, and need protection. Bathing is not good
for dogs except in very hot weather, and it is always
bad unless the dog can be perfectly dried before lying
down again. It is better for him to go without his
bath than to get ill from damp. As he does not
perspire through his skin, but through his tongue only,
he does not need washing as much as some people

think. A good combing and brushing each day will
keep his coat in better order than soap and water,
which only roughens it and makes it dirtier in the
Lastly, exercise is life to a dog. It is cruel to the
last degree to keep him chained up all day; those who
do it show great ignorance, or else barbarous neglect.
It is seldom necessary to chain a dog at all, he is so
obedient, docile, and willing to please. But if he
must now and then be tied up, it should be for as
short a time as possible.
Too much exercise is bad for a dog, and it is a very
cruel fashion to make him run after the master he
loves, when the man is mounted on a bicycle, or is
driving. On his own legs a man cannot go too far
for a dog, but on wheels he overtaxes his four-footed
companion. It is sad indeed to see a dog tied under
a cart, or panting along behind a carriage or bicycle,
dead beat, yet not daring to stop for fear of being
dragged along or left hopelessly behind.
The muzzle is a cruel torment to this noble creature,
and it is to be hoped that before long the law will
forbid its use instead of compelling it. Our friend the
dog wants these few simple things to keep him in
health, and besides his bodily wants he has others.
Underneath his coat, whether rough or smooth, the
dog has a heart which is full of affection, and he is
most unhappy unless he finds someone to love. The
want of a human friend is one of the deepest feelings
which he knows, and it is the greatest possible mis-
take to treat him as if he cared for nothing but eating


and drinking. When he learns to do so it is because
he has found nothing better to care for.
He is more like a very little child than anything
else, though he surpasses any child in unselfishness,
devotion, and power to serve those whom he loves.
We must think of his short life of about twelve years
as that of a person, who, though not able to think as
wisely as we do, or to talk our language, can love more
truly, and can speak well enough in his own way.


ANYONE walking through the old Churchyard of Grey-
friars, Edinburgh, some five and twenty years ago,
would have seen a strange and pathetic sight. Many
a costly mass of carved stone or polished marble,
covered with words of eulogy, marked the places where
rich and great people slept; but upon the green grass
which covered the nameless resting-place of a poor
man there lay,-what ?
It looked like the effigy of a dog, cunningly wrought
in dusky stone, so as to look like life,-and yet it
breathed, it stirred, while now and then a piteous sigh
or half-smothered whine broke from it. This was a
living monument;-the sleeper's only friend, a true-
hearted little terrier who could not bear to be parted
from him.
And lying there, the small shaggy rough-coated
Scotch doggie spoke better things for his dead friend
lying below, than any pompous speeches cut on sense-
less blocks of stone. He gave silent witness to his


master's kindness; he told a tale of love which passes
beyond the grave into that land where pain and part-
ing are no more.
The heart of little Bobby was with the friend he
loved still. What memory! What self-denial What
devotion! The creature forgot all other wants, all
other woes, all other cares in the one all-absorbing
desire to stay where he had seen the beloved form
Who knows but that his dim brain nourished some
hope that his master would wake and come up to
him again some day? If any such notion passed
through his mind, and if little faithful Bobby looked
forward to meeting his friend once more, surely by
this time his longing is gratified, and the same strong
patient love which drew him to linger on his mas-
ter's grave has drawn the two together again now
An aged man, James Brown, whose duty, it was
to take charge of the cemetery, remembered well
the day when a humble artisan, named Grey, was
brought to lie there, and noticed that Bobby was
foremost among the mourners. Next morning James
found him lying on the grave, and as his orders were
that No dogs were to be admitted he drove him
But the next day Bobby was there again. What
did he care for printed notices about dogs, stuck outside
the gate? It was cold and wet,-and Bobby was seen
by James in a shivering and forlorn plight. The old
man took pity on him and fed him.


Poor Bobby, thus encouraged in his desire to keep
near the grave, now lay upon it in peace. For fourteen
long years he kept his solemn watch, never leaving

the sacred spot for long. A benevolent man, Sergeant
Scott, R.E., allowed Bobby his board for a length of
time, and for nine years he was fed by Mr. Trail, the
kindly keeper of a restaurant close by.


At this shop, Bobby appeared regularly for his
dinner, being guided by the midday gun from the
castle. But at last the same mysterious message
which had fetched his master so far away, and which
sooner or later must still the pulse of every heart,
whether of man or beast, came to Bobby too.
Bobby died, as his master had done before him;
and as men thought no shame to bury him in Christian
ground, consecrated to the dust of loftier though less
faithful beings, perhaps some unseen guide thought no
scorn of showing Bobby's little spirit the way his
master had gone. The Bible speaks of the spirit of
the beast" as having a future,-though its destiny is
Among the many visitors who had heard the fame
of Bobby's long watch, and came to see the mute
sentinel at his post, was the Baroness Burdett-Coutts,
an ardent lover of animals. She caused a beautiful
drinking fountain of granite to be erected in the
streets of Edinburgh, to the memory of Bobby.
Many a weary wayfarer, on two legs or four, passes
refreshed after quenching his thirst at its flowing
waters,-so Bobby has not lived in vain. At the top
of the ornamental column sits Bobby himself, cut
out of granite, looking much as he did in life, and
bidding all passers by, for his sake, to cherish his
Professor Blackie wrote a Greek inscription for
Bobby's memorial, which when translated runs thus
"This monument was erected by a noble lady, the
Baroness Burdett-Coutts, to the memory of Greyfriars


Bobby,a faithful and affectionate littledogwho followed
the remains of his beloved master to the Churchyard
in the year 1858 and became a constant visitor to the
grave, refusing to be separated from the spot until he
died in the year 1872."


IT is a remarkable feature in the character of the dog
that he will often attach himself to masses of men,
without picking out any particular individual as his
special master. When he is a regimental dog he
appears to know the regiment of his own corps, and to
respect the flag.
And he has sometimes been known to adopt the
policemen of a certain station, or a ship's crew, or a
fire brigade, in the same manner, as his own associates.
This shows no small degree of intelligent watchfulness
on his part, for he must have grasped in his own mind
the fact that these people, all dressed alike, act in
concert, and form one body.
Perhaps some lingering memory, handed down from
the time when his ancestors, the wolves, hunted to-
gether in packs under a leader, may assist him in
coming to this sage conclusion. Among the band of
noble heroes who have charge of fire-escapes, and who
are ever ready to peril their lives to save those of
others, was a man named Samuel Wood.
He saved nearly one hundred men, women and
children; much of Wood's success, however, was due


to his wonderful little dog "Bill," around whose neck
the parishioners of Whitechapel placed a silver collar,
with an inscription in his praise as a token that during
nine years he filled the important post of" Fire-escape
As Bill's master was forced to keep watch all night,
that being the time when fires most frequently break
out, he slept by day, and the dog slumbered close to
his bed. He never thought of leaving this place till it
was time for them both to go to the station. Bill was
sure not to let his master sleep too long. How he
knew the time was a mystery, but he did.
When the fire-escape was wheeled out of the White-
chapel churchyard at nine o'clock, Bill was promptly
at his post. Though very quiet at other times, he
began to bark furiously when he heard the alarm of
fire raised. Wood had no occasion to sound his rattle,
for all the policemen around knew the voice of Bill
and hurried up to help.
If the cry of Fire!" were raised when but few
people were at hand, Bill would rush to the coffee-
houses and taverns near, push open the doors, and
give his well-known bark, as if to say, "Come along!
Why don't you help?" After this no man among
them stayed behind at his ease; he would have been
ashamed to be less charitable than a dog.
In the dark nights a lantern was lighted, and Bill
at once seized hold of it and ran in front of his master
to show him the way. When the ladder was erected,
Bill was at the top before Wood could get half-way
up! He jumped into the rooms, and amid thick




smoke and rolling flames ran from room to room
helping his master to find and bring out the terrified
Once the fire burned so rapidly, and the smoke in
the room became so dense, that Wood and another
man were unable to find their way out. They feared
that death was certain. Bill at once seemed to com-
prehend the danger in which his kind friend was
placed, and the faithful creature began to bark.
Half suffocated, Wood and his comrade knew that
this was a signal meaning Follow me !" They at
once crawled after the dog as well as they were able,
and in a few moments reached a window, guided by
him. Their lives were saved! and all was Bill's
doing. What an amount of sense and affection, besides
presence of mind, such an act shows! A man could
not have behaved more prudently and well.
But Bill's benevolence did not end here. One night
a poor little kitten was found on the stairs of a house
which was on fire. He immediately drove Pussy
down from stair to stair until she reached the door,
where she was tenderly cared for by a very kind-
hearted policeman.
Many were the pains which this noble dog bore in
the execution of his duty: once he was injured by
falling into a tub of scalding water, thrice he was run
over in the hurly-burly, and finally he met his death
from being seriously hurt while at the post of honour
and of danger.
In spite of the most affectionate nursing, Bill was
lost to the fireman, his master, who doubtless made a


keepsake of his collar, with its halting verse written
by some humble poet who loved the wearer:

I am the fire-escape man's dog, my name is Bill,
When 'fire' is called, I am never still,
1 bark for my master, all danger I brave,
To bring the 'escape' human life to save."


THE famous Chateaubriand said, when .an old man:
"I would willingly make myself the advocate of
certain works of God which are in disgrace with men.
In the first line would figure the ass and the cat."
Though poor puss is not made to slave for us, she is
certainly made to bear much needless suffering, and
she sorely needs a champion.
Because she can catch mice, it is supposed that she
needs no other food; and because she loves liberty
and it is her nature to roam abroad in the dark,
people deprive her of shelter through the bitter,
freezing nights; because she attaches herself to the
place in which she dwells, her owners conclude that
she wants nothing better than bare walls and a floor
to love.
Thus, being treated like a wild beast instead of a
tame creature, is it any wonder that she loses half the
intelligence, affection, and cleverness of which she is
capable ? Very different as her nature is from that of
the dog, these two chief animal comrades of ours are
alike in one point.


The better you treat them the more loving, faithful,
and sensible they will be. The cat requires regular
meals like the dog; why should she be able to live on
air, any more than he? She cannot always catch
mice, and if she does they are not good food for
her in a domestic state.
It is cruel to turn poor pussy out at night against
her will, but equally cruel to confine her should she
express an urgent wish to go out. If you train her
to come in at a fixed hour for her supper, she will
soon learn to be as punctual as any other member of
the family, in spite of the song that says, Cats don't
know when it's half-past eight !"
The best food for puss is a mixture of meat, meal,
and vegetables, and a highly civilized cat, rightly
brought up from kittenhood, will like nothing better
than a portion from his master's table. Warm meat,
however, should not be given. The lumps of offal
called cat's meat" are very bad for pussy, and if any
raw meat is given her it should be lean beef cut up
small and mixed with a little cooked vegetable.
Grass is medicine for cats, and they must have
access to it. No two cats have appetites alike; many
a cat will purr over a feast of boiled potatoes, another
will enjoy a helping of milk pudding. Many prefer
milk with soaked bread ; others will not touch this,
but like dry biscuit or bread, and the milk separate.
A few cats prefer water to milk at all times, and when
ill, most cats turn from milk. Fresh and clean water
then should be always within reach of every cat.
A puss of my acquaintance, who belongs to an old


blind woman, has pretty ways of coaxing her for any
special dainty which he knows to be in the house.
This tabby is perfectly aware that his mistress cannot
see, and so, when he wishes to talk to her, he wastes
no time on arching his back, rubbing against the legs
of her chair, or begging with the usual graceful wiles
of his race.
He always jumps at once oh to her lap, and gives
her a very gentle nip with his teeth. When there is a
plum-pudding in the cupboard, Tabby never gives
the old woman any peace till he has had his share.
He pulls her skirts, takes her dress into his mouth,
or goes on giving her hand little bites till she gives him
some. To the old dame's husband, who can see well,
this puss behaves quite differently. He never nibbles
his master, but treats him as an ordinary member
of society.


SOMETIMES silly people will speak sneeringly of cats
as old women's pets." This way of talking is doubly
foolish, because, neither cats nor aged women have
anything contemptible about them. We must all be
old women, or else old men, one day, unless we die
first, and, as a rule, old folk are wiser, better, kinder,
and more worthy of respect than youngsters.
We ought to mock neither at animals nor human
beings. Tennyson truly says that

" Alockery is the fume af little hearts."


But besides being silly, it is false to say that cats
are fit companions for elderly and feeble persons only.
Many brave and wise men, poets, heroes, and states-
men, have preferred cats to dogs as comrades. Cardinal
Wolsey, when Chancellor of England, always had his
favourite cat sitting on a chair beside him, while he
held his audiences. Tasso, the Italian poet, addressed
one of his most charming sonnets to his cat, and our
English poet Cowper often wrote of them.
The celebrated traveller, Sir Emerson Tennant, had
a Tom," who was almost like a child of the house.
Tom was a splendid silky fellow, jet black, with
magnificent whiskers and a finely shaped head, which
he carried in a fearless, upright manner. He had a
head upon his shoulders, figuratively as well as literally,
for he was far too wise a cat to make a fuss about
any such trifle as a railway journey.
It is the greatest possible mistake to fancy that
domestic cats like places better than people." They
do so only when they have had no particular notice
taken of them by any particular person, and thus
have formed no special attachment. We ourselves
should learn to grow fond of the rooms in which we
have always lived, if we had nothing better to love,
and, indeed, lonely people often do this.
Every summer as the time drew near for his master's
family to travel away for their seaside holiday, Tom
exhibited a remarkable uneasiness, restlessly straying
into empty rooms, examining boxes, running to the
front door at the servant's heels, and taking an interest
in all cabs. .


Once or twice he even had to be caught and brought
back from one of these vehicles, into which he had
jumped under the impression that his human belong-
ings were going away in it, while he would be left



behind. At last Tom's hamper was brought out, and
then his mind was set at rest.
He then knew that he was going to accompany the
party, and strutted gravely round and iound his
basket, while seriously consulting the standers-by with


his large intelligent eyes. Tom always behaved very
well in the train, but when once in the country he
became quite another cat from the quiet personage
that he was at home. "Why shouldn't I have a
change and some fun like the rest ?" he seems to have
thought, for Tom would disappear for many days at a
time, seldom putting in an appearance during his
whole stay, except when he brought a young leveret
in his mouth, as a present, let us say. Yet no sooner
did the time approach for going home than Tom
would again be on the look-out, and in due course
would return to London as he had come, where he
would again become a respectable and sober house-cat.
Tom's feelings were very easily hurt, and if any
slight were put upon him, he would look reproachfully
into the offender's face, and then retire downstairs to
his friends in the kitchen. No coaxing would appease
him till several hours had passed, when he would
forgive and forget.
Though his master was often urged to send Tom to
cat shows, and assured that he would win a first prize,
Sir Emerson would never consent. He would not
subject his favourite to so painful an ordeal for the
sake of money or fame. Although they may not be
subjected to actual ill-usage at these places, animals at
shows suffer much from fright, confinement, the absence
of familiar faces, and the presence-of staring crowds.
Tom never broke anything in his life, though he
was very inquisitive about new things, and would jump
upon the tables laden with costly crockery, glass, and
ornaments, picking his way carefully to smell at any


fresh article placed there. His mistress would smile
while Tom thus seemed to endanger her treasures, and
say, "we never frighten him, he does no harm."
There lies the grand secret of managing puss, of teach-
ing him, and making the best of his fine nature. We
must never frighten him. Those who make puss afraid,
make him timid, cautious, sly, and unloving. And
then they blame the cat, instead of blaming themselves.
In proportion as puss is treated well or ill, she
becomes either crafty or frank. She is a timid animal,
but timidity is not a vice, it merely shows a sensitive
temperament. To be sensitive is often the sign of a
high, not of a low nature ; and to treat timid creatures
roughly, is to make them cowardly and cringing, not
noble and trustworthy.
Tom was a regular attendant at the breakfast table,
and was usually the first to present himself there.
After the meal was over, he would adjourn to the sofa
and curl himself up to sleep. From his dusky hue,
he was then in danger of not being seen, and his kind
master would often put aside the letters he was
reading, rise from the table and place a white envelope
on Tom's glossy back.
This was to act as a sort of flag, showing that he
was there, lest somebody should sit down on Tom and
hurt him. Every day as the dinner hour approached,
Tom would be ready on the spot, looking as if he had
brushed and washed himself first. He would stand
patiently till everybody was seated, and then take his
accustomed chair beside his master to receive his
portion of fish.



DR. GOOD, author of an interesting work called "The
Book of Nature," gives a touching account of how his
favourite cat announced to him the death of her kitten.
Between this cat and her master a firm friendship had
existed, and puss had always been in the habit of
taking her seat quietly at his elbow on the writing
table, where she sat patiently hour after hour.
She became at length less constant in her attendance,
having a kitten to take care of. One morning pussy
came as usual, but instead of sitting down, she began
rubbing her furry sides against her master's hand and
pen as if to say, "You must please not write one
word more till you have listened to me!" What
she wished to communicate was a matter of grave
importance to pussy as her master might have. guessed
from the earnest way in which she repeated her speech
over and over again, in the only way possible to her.
With a sort of timid patience she persevered till her
friend stopped his writing in order to look at her
peculiar gestures.
As soon as she had made him attend, she leaped
down from the table and ran to the door with a look
of great uneasiness. When it was opened for her,
puss did not run out, but gazed earnestly up into her
friend's face as though she wished him -to follow, or
had something she would fain tell.
As her master did not understand, and was very
busy at the time, he shut the door, leaving puss


outside to go where she liked. In less than an hour,
however, she had again forced an entrance into the

^ !ij


room and drawn close to him. This time she did not
mount on the table, but began rubbing against his feet.
On moving them they struck against something,

and looking down the master saw with grief and
astonishment the dead body of her little kitten,
covered with cinder-dust, though he had supposed it
to be alive and well. He then guessed what the poor
mother had tried so long and earnestly to say. She
had suddenly lost the nurseling she doted on, and was
resolved to acquaint her master with this great sorrow.
Doubtless she wished him to share her trouble, and
perhaps imagined that he could bring life back to her
baby, or at least find out how it had all happened.
Finding him too dull to comprehend the expressive
signs by which she had asked him to follow her to the
cinder-heap, where her darling lay, she took the great
labour of fetching it to lay at his feet, from a
considerable distance, toiling up many stairs.
The kind master took the poor little dead kitten in
his hand, and followed by puss went downstairs to
enquire into the cause of its death, which was all that
he could do for her now. He found that the little
creature had been killed by an accident for which
nobody was much to blame.
The yearnings of the affectionate mother were.
soothed now that she had got her master to divide her
sorrow with her. She gradually took comfort and
resumed her former station at his side. This story is
enough to show how carefully we should deal with the
animals which we keep when they become mothers.
It is impossible that all the puppies and kittens
which are born should be permitted to grow up; happy
homes could not be found for all, nor sufficient food.
It is far kinder and wiser to kill them mercifully while


very young, than to let them grow up to be starving
But if one child can be left to the proud, loving
mother, and there is a prospect of a good home for it,
this will be far better for her health as well as her
happiness. Neither kittens nor puppies must be
taken from the mother directly they are born, they
must be left some hours till they have sucked her
milk away, or she will suffer much in body and perhaps
be very ill indeed.
Her teats will require to be gently rubbed when her
family is removed, with a little sweet oil or fresh butter,
and she must be kept warm, and fed well. A clean
bed, even if it is nothing better than paper, is
absolutely essential to cats and dogs, if they are to be
kept comfortable and in health,
Care must be taken when the little ones are drowned
that clean water is used; soapy stuff inflicts extra
pain. It is best to sew them into a strong bag with
a heavy stone inside to act as a weight and keep them
well under the surface.
Though the spark of life is easily extinguished in
creatures that are newly born, their death should
never be a lingering one. A painless death may be
contrived for these feeble beings by placing them
under a bell-glass, with a few pennyworth of chloro-
form on a sponge or tuft of cotton wool. The glass
may be made air-tight by pressing its rim into loose
sand or earth, rather than placing it on a smooth
When stupefied, they may be left under water for a


while to make sure that they do not revive. In
whatever way the death of her little ones is arranged
all should be done out of the mother's sight, and
without her knowledge. It is a pitiful sight to see her
forlornly seeking to restore life to the dead bodies of
her dear little ones, as she will often try to do if she
can find them. As the feelings of animals are much
like our own, we should not trifle with what seems
sacred,-the love of a mother,--even when that mother
cannot tell her grief in words.
Some boys once took from a cat her only kitten,
and, after playing with the little creature for a long
time, were so cruel as to fling it into a mill dam. But
the poor mother, who had watched her little one
anxiously from afar, plunged into the water, bravely
struck out and swam to it, and safely brought it
ashore. Her motherly love was stronger than her
dread of water, or fear of death. Do you not think
that the cowardly lads must have slunk home feeling
very much ashamed of themselves? The cat had
shown herself to be nobler than they were.



UNTIL the world grows wise enough to settle its
quarrels in some more sensible and less cruel way, war
will remain a necessity, for the protection of rights,
and for the defence of the weak against the strong.
For no other reasons can it be excused. And so long
as war is needful, warriors must exist.
It is, however, a pleasant thing to know that even the
horrible trade of war cannot stamp out from the brave
soldier's heart that tenderness and compassion for the
helpless, which is the test of true manhood. The
difference between a truly brave soldier and a coward,
is that the former, after victory, will do all that he can
to help his foe, while the latter will enjoy the needless
infliction of pain.
We shall find that all really great warriors have been
gentle to women, to children, and to animals; in short,
they have delighted to fight for the weak, but have
never taken pleasure in oppressing them. General
Garibaldi, the famous Italian hero, once showed his


feeling that poor animals in distress had a claim on
his kindness as well as human beings.
One dark night he met a shepherd wandering among
the Alps, in great trouble. He had lost one of his
sheep among the hills, not far from the camp of the
General. Garibaldi bade the man be of good cheer,
for he would send a party of soldiers out to search for
the sheep, lest she should perish amid the ice and snow.
This was accordingly done, and four or five men
started on the errand. Next morning when the soldiers
came to their General's tent to tell him that they could
not find the sheep, they saw her lying comfortably in
a corner, covered up with his cloak He had himself
gone out among the snow-drifts instead of going to
bed, had found the sheep, and brought her home.
One day, General Grant, that brave American soldier
who was admired and loved by all, was strolling beside
a wharf. He saw there a man who was beating a mule
in a very cruel manner, as it was dragging a heavy load
of stores for the army.
Walking up to the driver, he said, My man, you
stop beating that mule."
The driver, who did not know that the grave, quiet-
looking little man, dressed in a plain blouse, was the
General, answered roughly, Are you driving this mule
or am I ?"
And again he struck the poor creature so hard, that
he winced. The wretched animal's sides were heaving,
his legs trembled, and his tongue was hanging from
his mouth. "Well," said the General, I think that I
have power to stop your cruelty to that creature."


Then, turning to an officer who was near, the General
ordered him to take the driver into custody at once,
and to shut him up for twenty-four hours.
The news of the man's punishment spread through
the whole American army, and when it became known
that the General cared for the welfare of his beasts as
well as for that of the men, they all treated their
animals better than they had ever done before.


ENGLISH boys will never tire of hearing about the
Duke of Wellington, who saved Europe from the
tyranny of Napoleon. He was not only one of the
finest soldiers who ever lived, but he was wise in
counsel as well as brave in action.
One day the Duke, as he was going for a walk, found
a little boy weeping bitterly over a toad, beside the
hedge. The grand old hero was kind and tender, he
could not pass a child in grief, without trying to soothe
his sorrow. So he stopped to ask what was the matter.
While he did so, the toad sat quite still, and looked
hard at the Duke, out of his beautiful bright eyes,
without moving a muscle of his warty, wrinkled back.
He would no doubt have liked to tell the Duke his
own story, but as he could not, the lad spoke for both.
He said that he was going away to school next day, and
would be obliged to leave the toad behind, for it would
not be happy shut up in a box and carried away to
live indoors. It was his pet, and he had come out into
the field every day to feed and play with it. The two


were great friends, and the toad would dart out his
long sticky tongue to eat the insects and slugs which
the boy found for him.
Now the lad was sobbing because he feared that
some wicked boys might stone his toad, or that some
other harm would happen to him, after his protector
was gone. The Duke comforted the boy, and told
him not to mind, for that he himself would take care
of the poor toad when his young comrade was gone.
And he did not forget his promise. A short time
afterwards a letter reached the school where the boy
was. On opening it he found words to this effect:
"Field-Marshal the Duke of Wellington begs to
inform William Harris that his toad is alive and well."
The heart of The Iron Duke was as soft as that of
the boy.


THE life of a sailor, though sometimes full of excite-
ment and danger, is often dull enough for weeks
together. This is w'hy they enjoy telling stories-
"spinning yarns," as they call it. It is also the reason
why they are soafond of animals as pets on board.
These brave Jack Tars must leave their homes behind,
many of them their wives and dear little children also.
They feel the need of somebody to fill the blank, some
gentle creature to love and cherish; something to
keep them from growing rough, hard and selfish.
Animals are of great benefit to men in these ways-
for they are like little children who never grow up.


The warships of ten nations stretched for miles in
double column on the Hudson River, at New York, a



short time ago. Every one of the forty men-of-war
had a pet animal of some sort, who lived in clover, and


was the delight of the sailors. Animals aboard ship
have a free run of the vessel, but they usually live in
the fore-castle with the men.
For a reason which everyone will understand, nearly
all of them like the cook better than any other man
among the crew! On board the United States
dynamite cruiser Vesuvius" a happy family may be
found. It consists of a very fat hen, a cock, and a
black cat, who dwell together in peace.
For two years a big black cat has filled a large place
in the affections of the sailors on board the Kearsage."
Jim, as he is named, went with the ship to South
America. That cat," said the Captain, will do more
to keep the men contented than anything I can do.
The mere fact that Jim, as they call him, has per-
mission to go where he likes, delights the men. They
have trained him, and during their leisure moments
they watch his antics with pleasure."
Billy, a goat, was the pet of the Galena for nearly
two years. During that time, he never left the ship.
When the vessel was in port the men would take it in
turns to get fresh grass and clover for the goat.
A pair of rats have had the run of a third ship for
some time. The smaller of the two rats always shows
great fear of one of the officers, and will crouch in a
dark corner whenever he draws near. It is good
friends with all the rest.
"You ought to see the rats run a race on the main
deck," said an old sailor. We get them into trim by
offering them a small piece of cheese, and then taking
a larger piece forward. Two of the boys hold the rats,


and at the word "go" they get under way, and go
scampering down. The first rat who reaches the
cheese gets it."
As a ship was leaving port, one of the sailors, a
malicious man, who had a grudge against the ship's
pet cat, or wished to vex the other sailors, seized puss
and threw her upon the pier. It was too late for pussy
to regain her place. In her distress at seeing the ship
move slowly away, she ran in a frantic manner up and
down the dock, crying so loudly as to make herself
heard above the bustle and noise of the place.
At last she could bear it no longer. The ship's
side was now fifty feet away, when puss suddenly
made up her mind, and springing from the pier,
struck out boldly for her floating home. She made
for a ladder which still hung from the side. In a
moment or two she was clinging to the lowest step,
but not able to raise herself from the water.
A cheer went up from the crowd on shore at her
gallant deed, and a sailor who now saw her from on
board, dropped down the ladder, took the half-drowned
cat in his arms, and landed her safely on deck. From
that time she was the pride of the navy.
A cock was the pet of the boys on board the
"Charlestown until lately. He was trained to crow
every time that the ship's bell struck, and he did his
duty most lustily. The simple-hearted men of the
Russian ships are well provided with pets. On the
"Jean Bart" there is a very gentle ram, and also a
pretty lamb about four months old.



A BEAUTIFUL story is told of an old elephant, who,
on the Indian plains, held the standard round which
the host was to rally. At the beginning of the fight
he lost his master. Before he fell, the man's last
word to him had been a command to halt. While
the battle closed around him, the obedient creature
stood firm as a rock, with the precious flag upon his
huge back.
Hotter and fiercer grew the conflict, but he never
stirred a foot, faithful to the word which the dead
lips had spoken. Meanwhile, the soldiers belonging
to his master's nation, drew courage from seeing their
standard still steady, and could not believe that they
would be beaten, though numbers were against them.
Again and again they rallied round their colours,
while, amid the din of battle the silent standard-
bearer strained his ears to catch the sound of that
voice he would never hear again. Weary and terri-
fied, he was still true to his trust, and would seek no
relief till bidden by the tones he loved so well.
At last the tide of battle left the field deserted, the
conquerors swept on in pursuit of the flying foe. The
steadfastness of the elephant had gained the victory
for his dead master's side. But the creature, like a
rock, stood there, the dead and dying all around him,
the flag still waving in its place.
For three days and nights he stood on the spot
where he had been told to "halt." No bribe nor


threat could move him. Then they sent to a village
one hundred miles away, and brought the mahout's
little son. The noble hero seemed to remember how
his driver had sometimes sent this little child to drive
him in his own stead, and at once he paced quietly
and slowly away, all his shattered trappings clanging
as he went, like the clash of armour. Strong as a lion,
faithful as a dog, docile as a horse, and truer than
most human beings, was not this splendid beast a
pattern ?


PERHAPS no horses are braver and more clever than
those used in war. Having once been taught his
duties as a soldier, the war-horse never forgets them,
but seems filled with the spirit of a warrior for the
rest of his life. It is perfectly marvellous how the
horse, who is so timid an animal, can learn to bear
the dreadful sounds and sights of a battle without
becoming wild with terror.
Yet though by nature the horse starts at the least
sound and runs away on catching sight of a bit of
paper fluttering along in front of the wind, he will go
with his master among rolling guns, and not only
endure the clashing of military music and the waving
of flags, but seems to enjoy it all, so long as his rider
is there.
It is a great disgrace to England that her worn-out
army horses should be sold, in old age and weakness,
for any small price they will fetch. Surely after


fighting our battles we could afford to let them have
a painless death, instead of selling them into slavery.
But even when thus cast off by the ungrateful
country which they have served so well, the war-horse
remembers his past service, and shows his love of it.
An old, jaded war-horse was once bought by an
Irish farmer, who was in the habit of mounting his
daughter on him and sending her to Dublin with
milk. One day she reached the town just at the
moment when the. troopers were relieving guard.
The aged warrior-steed, hearing the old familiar
sound of the trumpets, began to arch his once hand-
some neck, and to paw the ground with his weary
limbs, stiff from age and drudgery.
At last he became so excited at the music he loved
that he forgot his present life of hardship and fatigue.
He made his way into the castle yard in spite of all
that the girl could do, and took his place among
the other horses, rider, milk pails and all.
At another time a baker who was carrying loaves
round the town was amazed to find that the old and
usually spiritless horse he rode was suddenly seized
with a sort of fury on hearing the sound of a military
band, played during a great review in one of the
London parks. He insisted on galloping to the place
where the soldiers were drawn up, and in going
through all that they did, with the unwilling baker on
his back.
At one time the horses of a dragoon regiment were
sent to graze in a field, when a fearful thunderstorm
came on without any warning. All at once the horses


were seen to collect into a body, forming themselves
into a line with the greatest care and exactness. They
thought that the thunder was the booming of distant
cannon, and while the lightning flashed around them
they stood perfectly motionless, waiting for some
signal to rush on the foe. It was a sight at once
remarkable and grand.

THE famous Charge of the Light Brigade, at Bala-
clava, made sad havoc amongst the horses as well as
the brave men who did their duty there. One of the
officers present, says, that his own gallant regiment
was a mere wreck, and speaking of one of the horses,
he adds, "Old Jack's rider was killed, but no one
knew what had become of the horse.
"Jack was a favourite, he was such a steady,
sensible old fellow, always ready for duty, and never
shamming sickness, as I have known other troop
horses do. Then he knew his. drill quite as well, if
not better than the captain of his troop. Very soon
after that battle where Jack lost his rider, and his
troop lost Jack, we changed our camp, and in a few
days more, again struck and removed to another
Death wounds and sickness had robbed the regi-
ment of all its best officers, so I was ordered to give
up for a time the work in which I was engaged, and
take command till someone else was sent to fill the
place. A few nights after I rejoined-bitterly cold


nights they were, too-we were roused by the cry,
'Turn out at once; the enemy is upon us !'
"Then there was the usual scurry, looking for over-
alls that got pulled on wrong side foremost, and
boots that refused to be pulled on anyhow. As soon
as possible, the regiment-that is, all that was left of
it-was mounted, and we were peering through the
murky darkness to discover the enemy.
"We could hear the hoofs of the enemy's horses as
they tore up the side of the hill on which we were
encamped, nearer and nearer to us still, until they
were within a few yards of us. Then we could see
that the horses had no riders. What could it mean?
"The mysterywas soon explained by an Irish trooper
who called out, 'What ho! here is Old Jack back
The old fellow was taken prisoner by the enemy at
Balaclava, and' disliking captivity, he seized the first
chance of escape, broke his halter, took to his heels,
and was followed, horselike, by all the Russian chargers
near him. A rare gain those same Russian horses
were to us!
"They were all gray, but we exchanged them with
the artillery next day for animals of a more suitable
colour. We had now thirty remounts, through Old
Jack's fidelity to his standard. The gallant old fellow
was covered with mud and foam when he forced him-*
self into the ranks of the troop that night.
He must have gone first to the ground where the
corps was encamped on the morning of the battle,
and then tracked the different changes of the regiment


until he gave us that sudden alarm, and brought with
him such welcome companions.
"It is pleasant to add that Old Jack escaped all
the dangers of war, returned home, and, I have been
told, ended his days at Windsor, as Her Majesty the
Queen directed that he should not be sold when
'unfit for further service.' "'


IT has always been a favourite custom in the army to
have some pet animal belonging to a regiment, and
various are the creatures chosen for this purpose. A
tame deer used to march in front of the 42nd
Highlanders, and he was a great pet among the
soldiers. This deer was very fond of biscuit, but he
would not touch it if anyone had breathed upon it.
He showed signs of anger if any person passed
between the band and the main body of the regiment,
which seemed as if he had some idea of being loyal to
his own ranks. A dog belonging to a naval officer
who sometimes dined with the same regiment at Malta,
was named Peter, and this dog became so fond of the
men that his master made Peter a present to them.
Both the dog and the deer then often marched with

Marshal Turenne had a horse, who was called, according
to his colour, "The Piebald." When his master fell and the
remaining officers were at a loss how to rejoin the main army,
the soldiers cried with one voice. "Put the Piebald at our head
we will go wherever he leads the way."

the band. One day while he was grazing near the
barracks, a cat bristled up her back at the deer, and
the timid animal was so frightened that he sprang
over a precipice and was killed on the spot. Peter, who
happened to be near, ran into the barracks barking and
howling most piteously to break the news of his
friend's death.
Poor Peter's end was a sad one too. One of the
officers had often ill-used him, and one day Peter
snarled at this man. The cruel officer ordered the dog
to be shot by a detachment of the men who loved him
so fondly, and who regretted his sad fate as long as
they lived.
Stags and deer have been attached to many other
regiments. The Irish Fusiliers keep a deer, and the
42nd Highlanders had a very celebrated one. French
as well as English soldiers delight in animals, and the
Zouaves of the Imperial French Guard were very
proud of a dog called Moustache.
He was a poodle, and had the half of his body and
the whole of his tail shaved bare. His hair quite hid
his eyes, and his moustaches stuck out two or three
inches beyond his cheeks. He always attended drill
with his battalion, and went through the exercises with
the soldiers. He shouldered an imaginary musket,
and knew how to parry and thrust with an imaginary
At the battle of Solferino, Moustache succeeded
in making prisoner a fugitive Austrian soldier, and for
this service he was decorated with the order of the
Legion of Honour. Moustache died some time ago,




and was buried by his mourning comrades who never
could praise too much or speak too often of his
bravery and gentleness.


SANDY was the property of an officer in the Royal
Engineers. At the age of one year, he went to
Gibraltar, and made several raids into Spain. When
the war in the East broke out, he went thither with
his master and the men of the corps.
He was with them at Malta, Constantinople, and
Varna, and made himself of great use, as the guardian
of his master's tent, against the thievish natives. He
also helped the men on their foraging expeditions.
From Varna he went along the line of coast to the
different ports occupied by the Turkish army. Though
dogs are hated and despised by the Turks, Sandy
managed to make friends with them.
This he did by saving oars, coats, and other things
which were washed overboard by the heavy seas, in
going to and from the vessels of war in open boats.
In short, Sandy made himself generally useful to
everybody he met. After this Sandy was present at
the battle of Inkerman, where he received a bayonet
wound which caused him to limp on three legs for
some weeks. Ill health now forced his master to
return home.
But Sandy was so well taken care of by some of his
brother officers that to the great delight of his master,
who never thought to see him again, the dog trotted


into his room a few months afterwards. Sandy always
marched at the head of the men. He was well up in
the bugle calls, especially those for breakfast, dinner
and supper, at which meals he never failed to put in
an appearance.
When Sir John Burgoyne went down to Chatham to
present the men with their Crimean medals, Sandy was
decorated at his master's expense with a special medal,
hung round his neck with a blue ribbon, and this
medal he always wore on drill parade. Attached to
the Fusiliers was a dog named Bob, who greatly
distinguished himself during the Crimean war. On
the heights of Alma he trotted gaily among the
trampled vines, and chased the spent shots as they
rolled down the hill. He was present also at Inker-
man, but, alas at the close of the battle, was run over
and killed by the wheels of a gun carriage.


ONE cold night in the winter of 1852, the sentry
posted in the grounds of St. James's Palace heard a
great noise outside the palace walls. It seemed like
a sharp struggle between two persons, while blows like
those produced on the body of a man or animal by a
heavy stick were mingled with other sounds.
Above all, the constant barking of a dog was to be
heard, which by degrees dropped to a doleful howl, and
then became a moan. Next the sentry heard the deep
thud of a body falling within the palace grounds, and
a sad wail like that of a deserted child fell on his ears.


Running to the spot whence the sound came, the
sentry found a poor dog lying in the snow, and
bleeding from many wounds. Poor thing!" ex-
claimed the kind-hearted man, it shall never be said
that Jock Anderson refused to succour a poor dumb
creature in distress. Come, get on your legs, old man.
and we will find a place for thee."
The poor dog licked the rough hands of the man
gratefully, and tried hard to walk towards the sentry
box. At this moment the gates of the palace grounds
were thrown open, and a light like a distant star
twinkled dimly through the darkness.
It was the three o'clock Rounds," and the sentry
was a long way from his post. I am in for it now,"
said the sentry to himself; but never mind," he added,
speaking to the dog, I will not desert you, old fellow."
The sergeant of the party, who walked in advance
of the patrol, stamped his feet hard upon the frozen
snow as he drew near the sentry box in order to
attract the sentry's attention. The sentry's duty was
to challenge the armed party with a stamp of his foot,
instead of the usual Who goes there ?"
This silent plan of challenging was adopted close to
the Palace to avoid disturbing its Royal inmates. No
reply being returned, the Rounds" went right up to
the box. "There is no sentry here !" said the officer,
in a tone of surprise, as the drummer boy held up the
"Here I am, sergeant!" cried the generous and
humane soldier, and he appeared leading the poor
wounded dog along at a slow pace. "This poor


doggie has been thrown over the wall by some cruel
wretches, and his cries were so pitiful that I could not
leave him to die there in the cold and the snow."
"Am I to understand -that you left your post,
contrary to orders, that you might attend to that dog ? "
Yes, sir," replied the sentry, as he brought his
musket to his shoulder; I did do that very thing, and
I hope your honour will excuse me for rescuing a
poor half-murdered doggie from death! Indeed, I
thought it was a child at first."
The officer's heart was touched, and he turned to
consult the sergeant, whose heart was of a different sort.
He drew himself up stiffly. "This man, having left
his post contrary to strict orders, sir, should be relieved
from his post and marched back a prisoner to the
guard-room," was all that he would say.
"Very well, then," said the officer; "let it be done."
Meanwhile the dog, still bleeding, limped painfully
behind the men. On reaching the guard-room the
disarmed sentinel was further deprived of his boots
and dismissed to his bed. He sat down by the fire,
however, and hardly had he done so, when the dog
dragged himself up to the feet of his friend, and
showed signs of delight. The ill-natured sergeant
again played the tyrant. "Turn that dog out,
drummer !" said he; turn that dog out!"
But the officer, who had been pleased at the scene,
and who disliked the punishment of the sentry for his
kindness, had followed. Stepping forward, he now
said that the poor dog must be well cared for, instead
of being turned out.


God bless you, sir!" cried the disgraced sentry,
with tears in his eyes, as he patted the dog's head.
Soon he made a bed. for him with his own great coat,
taken off for the purpose. Food was given him, and
water, which he needed more.
"I will see the colonel about this matter in the
morning," said the kindly officer, and went out.
As soon as both he and the sergeant were gone, the
soldiers crowded round to do all they could for the
dog. One fetched a sponge to bathe his wounds, and
others picked him out dainty bits from the well-
spread tables, as he did not seem inclined to eat what
was first set before him.
It was a fine sight to see Jack, for so they named
him, doing all that he could to show his gratitude for
the kindness shown him. The colonel, who was a
good and merciful man, promised to overlook Jock
Anderson's offence if he would undertake never to
leave his post again unless ordered. So Jock returned
to his duties as if nothing had happened.

As he now began to be called, soon improved under
this treatment, and though he was always faithful to
his first friend, the sentry who risked so much for him,
he was the pet of all the rest. The battalion to
which Jack belonged was ordered to the Crimea, and
while there Jack saved someone from drowning. It
was the very officer who had once saved him !
While bathing, this officer was seized with cramp,


and Jack, who was being washed close by, outstripped
all other swimmers, seized the officer by the hair of his


head and held him above water till other help came.
He could never be coaxed into a friendship with the



sergeant who had been harsh towards his friend, the
sentry, but always growled furiously at his approach.
Jack could not bear the Turks. Nobody could tell
why, but he would always play pranks upon the
Ottoman soldiers when he could, catching hold of
them by their trousers, and twisting them round till
the Turk would beg for mercy. At one time, it was
thought that the Turks had enticed Jack away and
killed him, for he could not be found.
His fellow-soldiers became very anxious about him
and at last the matter was taken up by a superior
officer, who sent the drum-major, with Jock Anderson,
now a corporal, and two drummers, to go out on a
searching expedition. After seeking in vain for a long
while, they heard the low wolf-like bark of some
Turkish dogs, and followed it through a gap into a
Here they saw a curious sight. About twenty or
thirty Turkish dogs were sitting in a circle, in the
middle of which they held a single dog prisoner.
This was no other than Regimental Jack, who, after a
brave defence, had been obliged to give up his liberty.
What could one dog, even a Briton, do against thirty
Turks at once?
It seemed that the Turkish dogs had shared their
masters' dislike for Jack, and were taking up the
Halt, draw swords !" cried Corporal Anderson.
At the sound, poor Jack, who had given himself .up
for lost, glanced round and hailed the party with a
bark of delight. Then, inspired by new courage at


his master's presence, he made a savage dash at his
foes, broke through their ranks, and soon reached the
Uttering a fearful howl the other dogs rushed after
Jack, and were close at his heels, when "Charge!"
cried the drum-major.
The shout which the men raised made the Turkish
dogs think better of it. The little party leaped boldly
among the furious pack, and soon put them to flight.


BUT it was when the troops of the allied armies landed
at the Crimea that Jack's adventures began in real
earnest. It was at the battle of the Alma, when the
brigade of Guards was drawing within range of the
Russian guns, that Jack, together with a friendly dog
of whom we have spoken before, caused great merri-
ment by acting as if the spent cannon-balls were toys
for his amusement.
The two dogs chased them, but this was not all
that Jack did. He saved the life of his master, Jock
Anderson. This brave soldier was attacked by three
Russians at once, and Jack, who was looking on at
this cowardly proceeding, had the spirit of a true
Englishman, who scorns to set three upon one, and
loves fair play. Anderson killed one of the men who
were trying to take him prisoner, and began struggling
with the second.
While he was doing so the third Russian levelled
his musket at Anderson. In another moment he


would have been a dead man, but Jack, who had
watched the affair intently, now rushed forward, sprang
fiercely upon his master's enemy, and seizing him by
the arm, forced him to drop his weapon.
At the same moment Anderson overpowered his
second assailant, and took the third man prisoner. It
was now that the conquering colours were firmly
planted upon the hard-won heights, and Regimental
Jack took his place at the foot of that proud standard.
Richly did he deserve a place among the heroes of
that day. He had forgotten his own safety to think
of that of his master.
But Jack's services were not yet over. Jock Ander-
son was now made a sergeant, and was told off with a
party to help in the sad office of burying the dead.
Before starting, however, he thought of a plan. Calling
Jack to him, he led the dog to the nearest hospital,
and procuring a canteen full of refreshing drink, he
strapped it to the dog's neck.
Brave dog said he, patting him gently, "you
have saved my life to-day, now go and save the lives
of others. See, Jack, see!" and he pointed to the
fainting men who lay strewn upon the ground. Good
dog, go!"
The poor dog gave his master a look which told
plainly that he understood what was wanted, and then
he went from one prostrate form to another, and after
licking the face for a moment to try and revive life,
went on to the next. Now and then Jack came to
the face of a friend, and then he would wag his tail
and try over and over again to rouse the quiet sleeper,


or to cheer the wounded men by his caresses. Must
he not have wondered in his doggish heart why men
did such cruel deeds to each other?
Many poor dying fellows were glad that day to get
a drink out of Jack's canteen, and when it was empty
he ran back to get it filled again. He never left this
work of mercy till night set in, when nearly all the
wounded had been cared for.
At Inkerman Jack was wounded in the foot, having
turned out to follow his regiment into the field.
Plenty of Russian soldiers that morning felt a British
dog's teeth meet in their flesh But a great trouble
befell Jack that day-his dear master fell to rise no
more Though wounded himself, Jack took no notice
of his own hurt, but sat beside his friend's body in
dumb grief till it was buried. Then a comrade of
Anderson's carried the faithful creature away in his
arms; but the spirit of the dog was broken, he haunted
the mound on Cathcart's Hill where Andersori lay,
and was most unwillingly led homewards when the
Guards returned.
At Aldershot Jack had the honour of being in-
troduced to the Queen, who took great notice of
him, and Her Majesty again saw Jack trotting
proudly behind his battalion at a review in Hyde
To the dog's collar of silver were attached the
Crimean and Turkish medals, with the Victoria Cross
and Legion of Honour decorations in miniature. Not
long did this brave fellow survive his beloved master.
He was found dead in the snow, with no outward


marks to show how he died. Perhaps it was better
for poor Jack than to linger long in pain, and he had
earned his discharge well.


MORE than three hundred years ago the famous
"William the Silent," Prince of Orange, so named
because he spoke so seldom, was called to defend his
country from the Spaniards, who wished to conquer
Holland and to change its religion. One dark night,
when the armies were within a short distance of each
other, the invading host tried to surprise the Dutch
In the darkness, a small party of them stole quietly
along and passed the Dutch sentries, who, tired out
by the previous day's fighting, hatd sunk down to rest.
In the tent of William all was still, but a little spaniel
who lay at the prince's feet slept with one ear open.
Presently the dog raised his head and growled, for
he heard something stirring outside, and felt himself
in duty bound to speak up.
When the noise grew louder and drew nearer he
jumped up and began to bark and whine, but the
worn-out prince did not wake. What could the
doggie do more? In a great state of excitement he
went close to the slumberer's face, licked it, and by
barking his loudest at length roused him. William at
once guessed that something was wrong.
He sprang up hastily and mounted his horse, who
always stood ready saddled by his tent, and unseen


by the Spaniards through the thick gloom galloped
safely away.
To show his gratitude towards the faithful spaniel,
i *. t '. k i. .' -

who had saved his life by a timely warning, William
the Silent ever afterwards kept one of his race as a
personal attendant, and when at last he slept to wake


no more on earth, the marble figure of his small pro-
tector was carved upon his tomb in the church in
Holland which holds his remains.

THE Royal Regiment of Welsh Fusiliers have a
custom which the soldiers value very much on account
of its being very ancient. It is that of passing in
review headed bya goat with gilded horns and bedecked
with flowers. Every first of March, being St. David's
Day, the officers give a banquet to all their Welsh
friends. After the cloth is taken away, the health of
the Prince of Wales is drunk, the band meanwhile
playing a national Welsh tune. While this is going
on, the goat is led three times round the table, covered
with rich trappings, and with a drummer boy seated
on his back.
Master Billy, the goat, does not always behave as
well as he ought, for he is too full of his fun. At
Boston, while taking his part in the banquet, he became
so merry that he sprang up from the floor. The leap
was so high that the little drummer boy found himself
dropped upon the table.
Bounding over the heads of some of the officers,
Billy then ran to the barracks with all his trappings
on, to the great joy of all the soldiers there. When
this fine fellow died, Her Majesty directed that two of
the finest goats from a flock in Windsor Park, the gift
of the Shah of Persia, should be presented to the
regiment instead of their lost pet.


Both battalions of the regiment have a goat who
always accompanies them wherever they go, and when
a goat dies the colonel of the regiment asks the Queen
for another from her own park, which is always gra-
ciously given. The goat belonging to the first battalion
was once very fond of going to the mess room, and
knocking at the door with his horns. He knew well
enough where meals were served, and, swaying his
head from side to side, would go on making a noise
till somebody gave him a treat. He knew that he
was sure of a kind reception.
The favourite feast of this goat was a funny tit-bit:
mustard spread on toast, or salt sprinkled over a slice
of bread. If anybody pushed this goat, or playfully
struck him from behind, he never thought of turning
round to find who did it, but went straight for the first
innocent person in front of him.
This trick was a great delight to the soldiers, who,
when the regiment was waiting to fall in, would give
the goat a poke with a rifle, and aim him, so to speak,
at one of their comrades, who was least thinking about
him. The goat would soon roll the man over, to the
uproarious delight of all present.
This rough pet of the soldiers knew his own strength
and his friends knew it too. One day when it was
raining hard the goat took possession of the sentry
box, that he might keep his coat dry. There was
no room for two, so the sentry was forced to wait out-
side under a wall rather than try his chance of being
able to turn his horned companion out.
Billy was very wilful sometimes, and nobody could


make him do things against his wish. On one occasion
the goat refused to march along at the head of his
column. For some reason, best known to himself, he
turned round and went straight through the lines of
men. He repeated this gambol three times, and every-
body laughed except those who were rolling on the


ONE of the long line of goats which have always headed
this regiment went with it to Barbados in 1843, where
his knowing ways made a great impression on the
black men of the country. He too was called Billy,
and knew how to bear himself like a soldier. Billy
kept at his place at the head of the drums, with a grave
aspect and behaved so much like his human fellow-
soldiers, that the dusky folk used to say, Him got
sense, same as white man "
At drill parade and roll-call Billy was always to the
fore. He seemed to take as much pride in the regiment
as the men themselves, and when they had time to
romp with him, he made a splendid playfellow. Well
fed, well housed, well cared for in all ways, Billy was
the happiest of goats-the more so because he was
among the human beings whom he loved.
Billy had not only the right of entry to the mess
room while the men were dining, but was always
welcome to a share of what he liked from their hands.
One evening it happened that Corporal Price, in a
spirit of thoughtless mischief, proposed that Billy


should have a taste of the liquids as well as of the
solids on the table.
He accordingly held out his cup, and Billy, after


sniffing at it in a suspicious manner for an instant or
two, soon lapped up the contents. At once soldier
after soldier wanted to give poor Billy a drink, and at
last the great earthen pot holding the beer was put on
the floor and he was told to help himself.


Billy was nothing loath, he drank very greedily, till
he could drink no more. Alas! what had been a
pleasure to Billy the night before, was a bitter punish-
ment to him in the morning! For the first time since
he joined his regiment Billy was absent at roll-call.
Nothing would tempt him to leave the stable where
he lay miserably stretched on his straw bed.
A second day found Billy again a deserter-a second
evening mess without Billy was more than the men
could put up with. Corporal Price was ordered to
bring the deserter before a court-martial of the men's
mess. It was with great difficulty that he persuaded
Billy to get out of bed. On reaching the door of the
mess room, he could not be made to cross its threshold,
till dragged in by-main force.
A cheer greeted his presence among the men once
more,-but how changed was Billy's appearance His
glossy coat had a forlorn and unkempt look, his head
once proud and erect, hung down in a sorry manner.
"Come, Billy, take a drink !" said the sergeant at
the head of the table.
The words seemed to rouse Billy. He lifted his
head, his eye lighted up, his fore-hoof beat the floor.
Then, with a snort and a bound Billy butted full
against the great vessel which contained the men's
evening allowance of beer, breaking it into a thousand
pieces, and deluging not only the table, but the
men who sat near. Having inflicted this unwished-
for bath as a sign of his displeasure, Billy, with his
head once more lifted on high stalked out of the


Really, sir," said the corporal who had tempted
the goat to break his pledge, Billy's was the best blue
ribbon lecture that was ever given us."


SIR ARCHIBALD ALISON deserves high praise for the
gallantry with which he led the Highland Brigade at
Tel-el-Kebir, and all the world has talked ofhiscourage.
But somehow nobody says anything about Private
Juno, whose conduct was equally honourable. And who
was Private Juno?
Well, her actions will speak for her. She rushed
bravely at the entrenchments, taking the post of danger
at the head of the Highlanders, and displaying a cool-
ness and courage in face of the enemy which ought to
have won for her a pension. She cared no more for
the bullets than if they had been hailstones.
Whether she really did tackle the enemy or not is not
known, except to Juno's self and to the foe. But even
if her teeth did not meet in any Egyption leg, her war-
like looks must have .spread terror among the rebel
ranks. The timid enemy had an idea that Sir Garnet
Wolseley kept two thousand bloodhounds for purposes
of vengeance, and perhaps they fancied that she was
one of them.
At any rate they did not wait for the other one
thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine of her supposed
canine comrades, but bolted for their lives while Private
Juno snapped merrily at their heels. As the wave of
war rolled forward, this dog covered herself with glory

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