Bentley's Miscellany

FIDELITY AND SAGACITY OF A DOG.

HENRY DAWSON, a young gamekeeper on a manor in Oxfordshire, had reared and trained with great care a retriever-puppy, in the hope of deriving future advantage from its services in the field. Rose (so was the retriever called) had attained the age of fifteen months, and already possessed some of the accomplishments usually taught to her sagacious tribe, when the manor was given up by the proprietor, and H. Dawson left without employment. Under these circumstances, he thought it would be better for him to pay a visit to his father, an old man, whose years amounted to fourscore-and to ask his counsel and assistance in finding another place.

Accompanied by Rose, the young man travelled to Welton, a small village in Buckinghamshire, where his father lived, and where he found such a welcome as parental affection can offer even under the humblest roof. After discussing his future plans and prospects with his venerable parent, Henry Dawson resolved, though not without a struggle, to part with Rose, and to go by sea to Scotland, where he had already spent two seasons, and had reasonable ground for expecting to find employment. After spending two days at Welton, Henry Dawson took an affectionate leave of his father, and crossing to one of the stations of the Great Western Railway, went up in the train with Rose to London. He had not been there many days, when her obedience to command, and the spirit with which she dashed into the Serpentine to fetch out her master's stick, attracted the notice of Colonel Byrne, who happened to be walking in the park at the time, and who, being a keen sportsman, detected in these youthful feats a quickness and sagacity which promised at a later period the recovery of many a wounded hare, pheasant, or wildduck. The price asked by Dawson was liberal, but not exorbitant; and in a few hours poor Rose was separated from the instructor of her youth, and safely immured in a kennel at the back of her new master's house.

For the first day or two she did nothing but whine and lament; and, though the daintiest canine food was offered to her, she would scarcely touch it; but time and kindness will produce the same effect on quadruped as on human nature, and at the end of a week Colonel Byrne had the satisfaction of finding that Rose's tail wagged at his approach, and that when he held out his hand she would lick it, and give him her rough paw in return. Encouraged by these indications of growing attachment, Colonel Byrne ventured to take her out with him, and was pleased to observe the readiness with which she followed his horse, or went back for a lost glove, or brought his stick from the Serpentine. She had twice accompanied him in his morning ride in Hyde-park; the third time that she did so the Colonel met with a friend, who rode with him, and in consequence of some observation that fell from one of them respecting the paces of their steeds, they each mounted that of the other, and continued their ride.

In crossing Piccadilly they passed a number of carriages and horsemen, and Rose, having lost sight of her master, and probably confused by his having changed his horse, followed some other

rider down the street. The Colonel did not miss her for some minutes; then he returned to seek, whistle, and call her, but in vain; he inquired of policemen and passengers-no one had seen a dog an swering the description, and he returned home dejected and wearied by his fruitless search. Determined, however, to leave no means untried for her recovery, he gave information at the police-stations, issued hand-bills offering a handsome reward; advertised her in the newspapers, and sent a faithful emissary to secure the good offices of a certain eminent dog-fancier, who lives in the centre of the metropolis.

He is a sort of cockney Rob Roy, who exacts from maidens, dowagers, and canine amateurs of every class, a heavy black-mail for the restoration of such favourite dogs as his myrmidons have stolen or enticed to his abode, the price being levied rather according to the wealth and station of the owner, and his supposed affection for his pet, than for the intrinsic value of the animal; if the ransom offered is not sufficient to satisfy the demands of this predatory chieftain, the unfortunate captive is put to death, and while his flesh furnishes the vealpies sold to the lower orders in the purlieus of St. Giles's, his skin finds its way to the shop of the glove-maker, or the vender of fashionable dog-skin boots.

All the endeavours of Colonel Byrne for the recovery of Rose proved unsuccessful She had been lost five days; numerous dogs had been brought to his door, many of them as like to her as Hamlet to Hercules,' and he had made up his mind to suffer, with as much philosophy as his nature would permit, the loss of his retriever, and of the ten guineas spent in purchasing her, when one morning, as he was sitting in his library, a strange step was heard at the door, and his servant ushered in an old man leading the much-regretted Rose. The Colonel jumped from his chair,-Rose leaped upon his shoul ders, licked his face,-and in the extravagant joy manifested in their mutual caresses, it would have been difficult to see aught of that wide and impassable barrier by which the instinct of the brute is separated from the reasoning faculty of the man.

After indulging himself for some time in fondling his recovered favourite, the Colonel found leisure to bestow a more careful glance upon the stranger who had restored her to him. He was a spare old man, his hair silvered by the snows of eighty winters; and although his cheek still showed that ruddy complexion which fresh air and healthful exercise will often preserve to the most advanced age, there was an impaired strength in the tone of his voice, which proved that the withering hand of time had not left all his faculties untouched.

Tell me, my good friend,' said the Colonel, who you are--and how did you recover for me my dog?'

Please your honour, sir, I have been a keeper fifty-four yearsI have had many dogs to break, but none ever like Rose. She is the sagaciousest and lovingest thing alive, I do believe.'

I believe it too, my friend,' replied the Colonel; but how did she come into your hands?'

'Why, you see, sir, please your honour's worship, I am John Dawson, father of Henry Dawson, who reared and broke her. I learn from your honour's servant that you lost her in Piccadilly, last Monday morning. On Tuesday afternoon she found her way to the house where

my son used to live, in Oxfordshire; there she snuffed and smelt about till she found that he was gone; then she set off in search of him; and yesterday morning, being Thursday, before five o'clock I heard a scratchin' at my door in Welton village. I goes down to see what could be there at that early hour,-who should it be, your worship, but Rose, who darts in atwixt my legs, and rushes up stairs to the room where my poor son slept when he was with me! I followed her up as fast as I could. As soon as she got into the room, she put her forepaws upon the bed, smelt the pillow, and finding it cold, she lay down by the bed-side, and howled and cried just like a child. She then got up again, and smelt at all my old jackets and boots hung on pegs round the room, but found nothing of her master's; then she laid down and cried again! I do assure your honour it almost broke my heart to hear her, and to see the sad plight she was in; for she had travelled the skin off her feet, and she was a mere skeleton, from want of food and rest. Sixty miles, your honour, from London to Oxfordshire manor, and forty from there to Welton! I am a poor old man now, and can hardly earn enough to buy my own bread; but if I could afford to keep Rose, a hundred guineas should not buy her of me, after the love she has shown for my Henry.'

As he concluded his narrative, he passed the back of his wrinkled hand across his moistened eyes, and struck his staff emphatically on the floor.

A hundred guineas shall not buy her from me, my good old friend,' said Colonel Byrne; and you may rest assured that she shall never know harsh or unkind usage.

He then slipped a few sovereigns into his hand, and, ringing the bell, desired the servant to set before the old man a hearty meal of beef and ale. As they left the room, he turned towards Rose, and caressed his wearied and travel-worn favourite with an emotion which he was no longer able to repress.

Rose is still the faithful guardian of the Colonel's bed, and the companion of his walk or ride; and any sceptic who doubts the truth of her adventures, as above related, may satisfy himself by applying at No. Street, St. James's.

London, 1842.

TO PHILLIS.

(FROM THE FRENCH.)

PHILLIS, no New Year's gift this day
Submissive at thy feet I lay,

In token of my duty;

Yet, think not that the less I prize
The gentle lustre of those eyes

Which beam with so much beauty.

Alas! I had designed for thee
A gift which in its worth should be
Best proof of my devotion;
But on a sad and luckless day
'Twas stolen secretly away,-

Oh, judge what my emotion!

Long, long I strove, but all in vain,
My promised tribute to regain,
But fruitless 'twas to weep it;
So, since the thief hath borne away
With such security the prey,

The thief from me may keep it.

I would disclose the whole affair,
And whom I most suspect declare:
But may not thus unroll it;
Yet, should I but reveal a part
And own the treasure was my heart,
You well can guess who stole it:

H. W. H.

BENTLEY'S

MISCELLANY.

SEPTEMBER, 1842.

Contents.

MR. LEDBURY'S GRAND TOUR,

A NIGHT WELL SPENT,

THE VILLAGE INN,

THE MICROSCOPE,

MY HONEY-MOON; OR, DOMESTIC BLISS,