Читать книгу: «Charles' Journey to France, and Other Tales», страница 4

MY MOTHER

 
My own mamma!
My dear mamma!
How happy I shall be,
To-morrow night
At candle light,
When she comes home to me.
 
 
'Tis just a week,
Since on my cheek,
She pressed a parting kiss,
It seems like two,
I never knew,
So long a week as this.
 
 
My tangled hair
She smoothed with care,
With water bathed my brow,
And all with such
A gentle touch —
There's none to do so now.
 
 
I cannot play
When she's away,
There's none to laugh with me,
And much I miss
The tender kiss —
The seat upon her knee.
 
 
When up to bed
I'm sorrowing led,
I linger on the stairs;
I lie and weep;
I cannot sleep;
I scarce can say my prayers.
 
 
But she will come,
She'll be at home
To-morrow night, and then
I hope that she
Will never be
So long away again.
 

STORIES OF DOGS

Dogs are very useful creatures, and they are much attached to man. Some of them will play with little boys, will run after a ball and bring it back to their playfellow. Spaniels or water dogs will bring sticks which are thrown into the water. Some carry baskets. They do many useful and amusing things for their masters.

There is a large house upon the top of a mountain, in Italy, in which a great many people live, called monks. The house is called a convent. These monks have a very fine breed of dogs, called the dogs of St. Bernard. They are a very large fine looking dog, very strong and very bold, and yet very kind. Not cross, like some of the little curs, we see every day. These dogs are trained to go down the mountains, and if they find any travelers, who have lost their way in the deep snow, or who are unable to get to the convent, these dogs help them. One of them in ranging about the mountain a few years ago, met with a poor little boy, almost dead with cold and hunger, and so benumbed that he could not walk.

The dog made signs to him, so as to make him understand, that he wanted him to get up upon his back, which after much trouble, the poor little boy did, and the dog carried him to the convent, where he was put into a warm bed, and taken so good care of, that he was soon quite well.

All dogs, however, are not like the good dogs of St. Bernard. Some are very vicious. Such dogs are dangerous animals, and certainly should not be permitted to go unchained.

There was an instance of great ferocity on the part of a dog exhibited not long since, in the streets of New York. A horse belonging to a poor drayman, got free from the halter with which he was fastened, and started for home. The drayman as soon as he found the horse gone, went in pursuit and called upon the people in the streets to stop his horse. A bull-dog also taking the alarm pursued the horse, and soon coming up with him, seized the poor animal by the upper lip. The horse, terribly frightened, ran along several streets, the dog all the time hanging to his lip. At length a crowd collecting prevented his farther progress; and to escape being caught, and frantic with pain and fear, he rushed into a hardware shop, and thence into the parlor where all the family were at tea. After turning over the chairs and table, they were driven back into the shop, when every exertion was made in vain by the owner of the horse, and several others to release the animal from the gripe of the tormentor. At last one of the company with a knife put an end to the dog's existence, thus releasing the poor horse.