OUR NEW DOG DASH.
Dash! go away! how do you suppose I can write when you are jumping at my elbow, playing with my robe-tassels, and cutting up such antics, as you have been this last half hour? I know it is a pleasant morning, as well as you do; I should like a ramble as well as you would; but business is business, Dash, and neither you nor those great fleecy-white clouds, sailing so lazily over the blue sky; neither the twitting birds, nor the sweet soft air, every breath of which makes my blood leap; neither the fresh green grass, nor the pretty morning-glories which have opened their blue eyes under my window, can get me out of this chair till my work is done. So, go away, Dash; you need not sniff, and bark, and jump up on the window-sill that way; you don’t know me, or you would know that, in my dictionary, won’t means won’t. Beside, what is to hinder you from going out by yourself, I’d like to know? Dog-days are over, no policeman or covetous boy, in want of half a dollar, will knock you on the head. Why not go out by yourself till I get ready to come, if you are in such a mortal hurry? What are you afraid of? That solemn flock of geese? those hens and roosters? or that great Newfoundland dog, who looks big enough to swallow you at a mouthful? or that steady old brown cow? A pretty fellow you are to be afraid! you who fell upon poor puss, shook her, and chased her up-stairs and down, and in my lady’s chamber, till her back had a hump as big as any camel’s, and her eyes looked like two great emeralds; oh, you blustering little coward! Suppose that great Newfoundland dog should serve you in that fashion! That’s why you are afraid to go out of doors without me, sir, is it? Ah ha!—none of us so big but we can find our match, let me tell you. Remember that, next time you shake a poor harmless pussy, because you were jealous of a saucer of milk I gave her. Let me tell you, sir, ladies first, after that the gentlemen. Where were you brought up, I would like to know, that you have not learned that? Let me see you ruffle one hair of my little Maltese pussy, sir, and I will—no I won’t, for here comes my husband, your master. I like to have forgotten what I told you just now, that none of us are so big but we can find our match. Never fear, Dash, I won’t touch you; for I’ve found mine.
FUN AND FOLLY;
A STORY FOR THOUGHTLESS BOYS.
Halloo! there’s old John coming down the street, top of a load of straw, in that crazy old cart, with that old skeleton of a horse. Gemini! what a turn out, isn’t it Bob? what fun it would be to step up behind the cart, and set that straw on fire with a match; I say, Bob, wouldn’t the old fellow jump down quicker? Let’s do it.
Bob, always ready for “fun,” took a match, and applying it to the dry straw, in an instant set it all of a blaze; then they both ran off, and hid behind a wall to see what would come of it.
Down scrambled old John, head first, and rolled off into the road; the horse feeling the heat, started, and the wheel of the cart passing over old John’s head, left him bleeding and almost lifeless, on the ground.
“Think he’s dead?” whispered Bob with white lips. “I didn’t mean to hurt him, I only wanted a little fun Sam.”
“They’ll put us in jail if they find us,” said Sam, “oh what shall we do; old John will die, he don’t move a bit;” and the naughty boys crept still more closely together behind the wall.
Old John was not dead; only stunned and bleeding; a farmer who came by, seeing him, took him up in his cart, and carried him to the almshouse: and there we will leave him groaning on his small bed, while I tell you his story.