It was fortunate I had been well furnished with provisions by my good friend, for as I proceeded, I found the pains in my limbs so great that I could scarce drag one leg after the other, and should probably have died of hunger, as I had no strength left to procure food, and did not meet with any more Ximios to assist me had I stood in need. With long rests, from which I rose each time with greater difficulty,—with increasing anxiety as I drew near my home, to learn all that had taken place during my absence,—and yet with legs which almost refused to carry me; after many days that seemed to have grown into months,—they were so full of care and suffering,—I toiled up a hill, which had, I thought, the power of getting steeper as I ascended. At length I reached the top, and to my joy discovered the well-known city of Caneville, lying in the plain beneath me. The sight gave me strength again. I at once resumed my journey, and trotted down the hill at a pace which surprised myself. As I got warm with my exertions, the stiffness seemed by degrees to leave my limbs; I ran, I bounded along, over grass and stone through broad patches of mud which showed too plainly to what height the river had lately risen, out of breath, yet with a spirit that would not let me flag, I still flew on, nor slackened my speed until I had got to the first few houses of the town. There I stopped indeed, and fell; for it then seemed as if my bones were all breaking asunder. My eyes grew dim; strange noises sounded in my ears; and though I fancied I could distinguish voices which I knew, I could neither see nor speak; I thought it was my dying hour.
From the mouths of Nip and others I learnt all which then occurred, and all that had passed after my supposed loss on the night of the inundation. How my noble conduct (for so they were kind enough to call it, though I only tried to do my duty, and failed) had been made known to the great dogs of Caneville, and how they had sought after me to thank me for it;—how they had offered rewards to those who assisted in my recovery;—how, when it was supposed that I was dead, they took Nip from our modest home, and placed him in this present house, fitted with everything that could make him comfortable for life;—how, when all hope was gone, my unexpected appearance brought a crowd about me, each one anxious to assist me in my distress, though some maliciously said, in order to lay claim to the reward;—and how I was finally brought again to my senses through the care of our clever canine doctors, and the kind nursing of dear old Nip.
It was long, however, before I recovered my legs sufficiently to be able to use them without support. My long exposure at sea, the want of food, and the trouble I had gone through, during my involuntary voyage, had all assisted to weaken me. But my anxiety to enjoy the fresh air again, took me out into the streets directly it was thought safe for me to do so, and with a pair of crutches beneath my arms, I managed to creep about.
Never shall I forget the first time this pleasure was allowed me. The morning was so fresh and bright; the sun shone so gaily upon the houses; the river, now reduced to its usual size, ran so cheerily along, that I got into my old habit, and began to think they were all talking to me and bidding me welcome after my long illness. Kind words were soon said to me in right earnest, for before I had got half-way down the street, with old Nip just behind me,—his hat still adorned with the band which he had unwillingly put on when he thought me dead and gone, and which he had forgotten to take off again,—the puppies ran from different quarters to look up in my face and say, "How do you do, Job? I hope you are better, Job." Many a polite dog took off his hat to bid me good morrow; and praises more than I deserved, but which I heard with pleasure, came softly to my ear, as I hobbled slowly along. Nip told me afterwards, that there had been another in the crowd who kept a little back, and who, though she said nothing, seemed to be more glad to see me than all the rest. I had not seen her, nor did he mention her name, but that was not necessary. My heart seemed to tell me that it could only have been Fida.
A WORTHY SUBJECT
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 was on crutches than it had been for years previous. My thoughts received little interruption from Nip, who, after having recounted the events which had taken place during my absence, had little more to say. The kindness of the great city dogs having removed all fear of want, or even the necessity of labour, from our comfortable home, produced at first a pleasing effect upon me; but as my strength returned, and I managed to walk about the room without assistance, a desire for active employment became quite necessary to my happiness.