DUTY.
The idle life which I was compelled to spend gave me time for reflection,and I believe my mind was more active during the few months my body wason crutches than it had been for years previous. My thoughts receivedlittle interruption from Nip, who, after having recounted the eventswhich had taken place during my absence, had little more to say. Thekindness of the great city dogs having removed all fear of want, or eventhe necessity of labour, from our comfortable home, produced at first apleasing effect upon me; but as my strength returned, and I managed towalk about the room without assistance, a desire for active employmentbecame quite necessary to my happiness.
"What have I done, Nip?" I would often say, as I took my usual exercisein our modest parlour; "what have I done, Nip, that I should be clothed,and fed, and housed, without labouring for such advantages, like the restof dog-kind? These paws, large and strong as they are, were neverintended for idleness; this back, broad as it is, was meant for someother purpose than to show off a fine coat; this brain, which can reflectand admire and resolve, had not such capabilities given to it in orderthat they might be wasted in a life of ease. Work, Nip, work; such workas a dog _can_ do should be sought after and done, for nothing can bemore shocking than to see an animal's powers, either of body or mind,wasted away in idleness."
Nip replied but little, although he winked his eyes very vigorously. Iwas used to his manner now, and could understand his meaning without thenecessity of words. Both his looks and gestures told me that he thoughtas I did, and I only waited till I could use my own legs freely, to setabout a resolution I had been forming in my mind.
It was a happy day when I could again mix in the bustle of the streets,and find my strength once more restored. The first use I made of it wasto go to the great house where the chief dogs of Caneville are accustomedto sit during a certain time of the day to judge matters relating to thecity. When I arrived, they were almost alone, and I was therefore able topresent myself without delay, and explain my business.
I began by thanking them for what they had done for me and my old friendNip, in providing us with a house and with so many comforts. I told them,although the goodness of Nip rendered him worthy of every attention, ashe had grown old in a useful and laborious life, I had no such claims. Iwas still young--my strength had come back to me--I had no right to eatthe food of idleness where so many dogs, more deserving than I, wereoften in want of a bone, but whose modesty prevented them making knowntheir necessities. I would still thankfully enjoy the home, which thekindness of the great animals of Caneville had furnished me, but theymust permit me to work for it--they must permit me to do something whichmight be useful to the city in return, for I should devour the fareprovided for me with a great deal more appetite, if I could say to myselfwhen I felt hungry, "Job, brother Job, eat your dinner, for you have_earned_ it."
The assembly of dogs heard me with great attention to the end; not a barkinterrupted my little speech, not a movement disturbed my attention. Iwas pleased to see that tails wagged with approbation when I hadconcluded, and was charmed to hear the chief among them, who was whitewith age, express himself _delighted_, yes, that was the word, delightedwith my spirit.
"We are pleased, Job," he said, at the end of his reply, "we are pleasedto observe that there are yet _true dogs_ in Caneville; there have beenanimals calling themselves so, whose character was so base, and whosemanner was so cringing, that they have brought disrepute upon the name;and we are sorry to say that in many countries the title of a _dog_ isgiven to the vilest and most worthless creatures. All the finer qualitiesof our race have been lost sight of, because a few among us have beenmean or wicked; and a whole nation has been pointed at with scorn,because some of its members have acted badly. We are happy, Job, to findin you a 'worthy subject,' and we shall be glad to give you allassistance in choosing an occupation in which you may employ your time,and be of use to your fellow-creatures."
I should not have repeated this to you, as it is not, perhaps, necessaryfor my story, but that I wished to correct an error, which many havemade, concerning the character of this very dog. He has been described byseveral as cold, and proud, and sometimes cruel; and yet to me he waswarm, and friendly, and most kind. Do not you think when we hear animalsgrumbling against their fellows, it would be just as well to think whothe grumblers are, before we form our opinions? or, at least, hear theopinions of many before we decide ourselves?
I need not tell you all that passed between us, and what was said by thisdog and by that, about the choice of my occupation. It was agreed at lastthat I should be appointed chief of the Caneville police, as the placehad become vacant through the death of a fine old mastiff some daysprevious. I wonder whether he was a relation of my own, for I havealready told you my mother belonged to that great family. He had receivedsome severe wounds when trying to capture a fierce beast of the name ofLupo, the terror of the city, and he had died from the effects of them inspite of all the care of the doctors. What made the matter worse, was thefact that Lupo was yet at liberty, and many dogs were afraid to go outat night for fear of meeting with this terrible animal.
To tell the truth, I was rather pleased than otherwise that Lupo hadstill to be taken. It was agreeable to me to think that work, difficultwork, was to be done, and that _I_ was called upon to do it. I felt proudat the idea that the animals of the great city of Caneville would look upto me, _to me_, poor Job, as the dog chosen to releive them of theirfears, and restore security to their streets. "Job," I cried out tomyself, in a firm tone, "Job, here is a chance of being useful to yourcountry; let no danger, no fear, even of death, stop you in the goodwork. Job, you are called upon to perform a duty, and let nothing, mind_nothing_, turn you from it."
After I had become acquainted with all the dogs who were under mycommand, I spent much time each day in exercising them, and inendeavouring by kind words, and by my own example, to make them attendstrictly to their work. I was pleased to observe that I succeeded. Some,who were pointed out to me as difficult to manage, became my mostfaithful followers, and I had not been two months in my employment beforeall were so devoted to me, that I believe they would have died to serveme.
In all this time, nothing had been heard of the terrible Lupo, and all myinquiries procured no information concerning where he was to be found. Ilearned that he was not a native of Caneville, although his father oncebelonged to the city. He was born in a country beyond the great wood, andhis mother came from a fierce tribe of wolves, who, although they alittle resemble dogs in appearance, and speak a very similar language,are much more ferocious, and seem to look upon the whole canine family asnatural enemies.
The opinion began to spread in Caneville that Lupo had at length left thecity, and the inhabitants, by degrees, recovered their usual quiet; when,suddenly, the alarm spread more widely than before; as, two nights insuccession, some rich dogs were robbed and ill-treated, and one of themwas lamed by the ferocity of the chief of the terrible band who hadattacked them, and whose description convinced me it was Lupo.
These accounts caused me much pain, as I had neither been able to preventthe attacks, nor discover the animals who had made them. In my desire tofind out and capture the robbers, I could scarcely take food or rest. Imanaged to sleep a little in the day-time, and at night, dressed in thesimplest manner, so as to excite no attention, I wandered quietly fromstreet to street, stopping to listen to the slightest noise, and going inany direction that I heard a murmur. One or two of my dogs generallyfollowed at a distance, ready to assist me if I called for help.
It was a fine night. The moon and stars were brilliant in the sky, andmade the blue all the deeper from their own bright rays. I had beenalready two hours crawling through the lower parts of the city, and wasmounting the hill which led to a fine building where my steps oftencarried me--sometimes without my intending it--in order to watch over thesafety of those who slept within. It was the house of Fida--that Fida whohad been to me so kind, so tender; that Fida, who so patiently softeneddown my
rudeness, and had tried to teach me to know what was good byletting me become her friend.
I had nearly reached the top of the hill, and paused an instant toobserve the bright light and dark shadows which the house displayed, asthe moon fell upon it, or some portion of the building interposed.Profound sleep had fallen upon the city. The river might be seen from thespot where I was standing, running swiftly along; and so deep was thesilence that you could even hear the gush of the water as it frettedround some large stones in the centre of the stream.
Suddenly there rose into the air from the ground above me, the sharp,clear howl of a female voice, and at the same instant the sound of arattle broke upon my ear as a signal of alarm. I sprang up the few feetwhich were between me and the house with the speed of lightning, andturning rapidly the corner of the building, reached the principalentrance. One look told me everything: at an upper window, in a loosedress, was Fida herself, springing the rattle which she held in her paw,with a strength that fear alone could have given her; and below, where Imyself stood, were four or five dogs differently engaged, but evidentlytrying to get into the house.
A kick from my right leg sent one of them to the ground, and, with myclenched paw, I struck a blow at the second. Never do I remember feelingsuch strength within me, such a resolution to attack twenty dogs if itwere necessary, although the next minute I might be torn in pieces. Ihave sometimes asked myself whether the presence of Fida had anything todo with it, or if a sense of duty only inspired me. I have never beenable to reply to the question in a satisfactory manner. I only know thatthe fact was as I say, and that the blow I gave was surprising even tomyself; my paw caught the animal precisely under his chin, and sent himflying backwards, with his nose in the air and his hat behind him; and asthe moon shone brilliantly upon his upturned face, I recognised thefeatures described to me as those of Lupo. He lay so still upon theground that I thought he must be killed; so, leaving him for a moment, Ipursued some others who were running off in the distance, but did notsucceed in catching them. I said a few cheering words to Fida at thewindow, and returned to the spot of my encounter with Lupo; but insteadof that terrible beast, found some of my own followers, the father ofFida, and one or two servants, who had been roused by the tumult, and hadcome out to learn the cause. Lupo was nowhere to be seen. He had eitherpartly recovered from the blow, and had managed to crawl away, or hadbeen dragged off by some of his troop.
Nothing could have been more fortunate to me than this night's adventure.The father of Fida, who had seen the attack from his window, was the headof one of the best families of dogs in Caneville, and being, besides,very rich, he enjoyed great power. He was so pleased with what I haddone, that he not only took a great liking to me himself, but he spokeof my conduct in the highest terms to the great assembly. I receivedpublic thanks; I was admitted to the honour which I now hold, that offorming one of the second assembly of the city; I was loaded with richpresents, and equally rich praise; and I may also date from that night,the obtaining the richest gift of all, the gift which has made thehappiness of my best years; I mean the possession of my wife, thebeautiful Fida.
A SEVERE BLOW]
It is true that I did not procure that felicity at once. There were manydifficulties to be got over before the noble spaniel would think ofallowing his daughter to become the wife of plain Mr. Job. His son, also,of whom I have spoken previously, could not bear, at first, the idea ofhis sister not marrying some one as noble as herself, and thought, verynaturally, that she was far too good to have her fortunes united withmine. Fida herself, however, was so firm, and yet so tender; sostraightforward, and yet so modest, that she finally broke down allopposition. She persuaded her father that no title could be more noblethan the one I had acquired, that of "Honest Job;" she won over herbrother, by slily asking him, which among his grand companions could havemet a whole band of fierce dogs, with Lupo at their head, and,single-pawed, could have conquered them all? By degrees, every objectionwas cleared away, and Fida became mine.
The chief interest of my life terminates here; for although, in myposition as head of the police, I had many other adventures, they weretoo much alike, and of too common an order, to be worth relating. BeforeI close, however, I must mention a circumstance which occurred shortlyafter my battle with the robbers, as it is curious in itself, and refersto an animal of whom I have before spoken.
I was quietly walking along a bye-street of Caneville, when a miserable,thin, little puppy came behind me, and gently pulled my coat. On turninground to ask him what he wanted, he begged me in the most imploring toneto come and see his father, who was very ill.
"And who is your father, little pup?" I inquired.
"His name is Lupo," said the thin dog, in a trembling voice.
"Lupo!" I cried out in surprise. "But do you not know who I am, and thatI am forced to be your father's greatest enemy?"
"I know, I know," the pup replied; "but father told me to come and seek_you_, for that you were good, and would not harm him, if you knew he wasso miserable." And here the little dog began howling in a way which movedme.
"Go on," I said, after a moment; "go on; I will follow you."
As the little dog ran before, through some of the low and miserable partsof the city, the idea once came into my head that perhaps this was ascheme of Lupo's to get me into his power. But the puppy's grief had beentoo real to allow me to believe, young as he was, that he could be actinga part; so with a stout resolution I went forward.
We arrived at a low and dirty kennel, where only the greatest miserycould bear to live. We passed through a hole, for so it appeared, ratherthan a doorway, and I found myself in a little room, lit by a break inthe wall. On the single poor bed lay a wretched object, gasping forbreath, while a ragged pup, somewhat older than my little guide, hadburied his face in the clothes at the bottom of the bed. Three other tinycreatures, worn to the bone with poverty and want of food, came crowdinground me, in a way that was piteous to behold; and with their looks, notwords, for they said nothing, asked me to do something for theirmiserable parent. I procured from a neighbouring tavern a bason of brothwith which I succeeded in reviving the once terrible Lupo; but it wasonly a flash before life departed for ever. In broken words, herecommended to my care the poor little objects round. Bad as he was, hestill had feeling for them, and it was easy to observe that at this sadmoment his thoughts were more of _them_ than of himself; for when Ipromised to protect them, he pressed my paw with his remaining strengthto his hot lips, moaned faintly, and expired.
CONSOLATION]
My tale is over. Would that it had been more entertaining, moreinstructive. But the incidents of my career have been few, and my path,with the one or two exceptions I have described, has been a smooth one. Ihave heard it said that no history of a life, however simple, is withoutits lesson. If it be so, then perhaps some good may be derived from mine.If it teach the way to avoid an error, or correct a fault; if any portionof it win a smile from a sad heart, or awake a train of serious thoughtin a gay one, my dog's tale will not have been unfolded in vain.
THE END.
London; Thomas Harrild, Printer, 13, Salisbury Square, Fleet Street.