He threw me a scrap of coarse bread, saying, "There's for you; but I dare say you are too well fed to eat it."
His supposition would have been true enough the day before; but hunger cures daintiness, and now I was glad of such a mouthful. I bolted it in an instant, and looked for more. He threw me one other crust, saying that was all he could spare; and, finishing the rest himself, went on his way, leaving me as hungry as ever.
By and by, in passing through a village, I came to a butcher's shop. The butcher was not in sight, and meat was spread in the most tempting manner on the board.
"How easily," thought I, "I could steal that nice raw chop, and run away with it! Nobody could see me, and I do not believe any body could catch me."
Steal it—the thought startled me. Brought up from my earliest puppyhood in the strictest principles of honesty; able, as I imagined, to see the best-stocked larder, or the most amply-supplied table, without even wishing to touch what was not my own;—was I now, on the very first temptation, the first time in my life that I had ever been really hungry, to forget all I had been taught, and to become a thief? Was it only the fear of blows that had kept me honest? Was my honesty worthy the name, if I was only honest when I had no temptation to be otherwise? I was ashamed of myself, and turning from the shop, passed on with drooping ears.
Presently I met with a dog so extra fat as to show plainly that he had never gone without his dinner, and yet he was growling over a bone as if he had been starving. On looking more closely at him, I perceived that he was in possession of two bones, either of them enough for one dog; but he was unable to make use of one, for fear of the other's being taken from him. So there he lay, with his paws upon both, growling instead of enjoying himself. He was a larger dog than I, but not nearly so strong, being grown helpless and unwieldly through long habits of greediness and laziness. I saw that I could easily master him and take one of his bones by brute force, and at first I felt inclined to help myself by this means. I thought I had a good right so to do. I actually wanted the necessaries of life, while he was revelling in superfluous luxury. Was I not justified, nay more, was I not bound in common sense and justice to take from him what he did not want, and give it to myself who did want it? Even if I robbed him of one of his bones, I should leave him as much as I took away.
Robbed—another awkward word! I paused again. Assault and robbery were perhaps not so mean as sneaking theft, but were they more allowable? The bones were his own, his property; given to him by some one who had a right to dispose of them; and though at this moment I might wish for a more equal distribution, I had sense enough to know that it would be a bad state of things if every dog were to seize upon every neighbouring dog's bones at his own discretion. It might suit me at this moment, but to-morrow a stronger dog might think that I had too much, and insist upon my relinquishing half of my dinner. Who was to be the judge? Every dog would differ in opinion as to how much was his own fair share, and how much might be left to his neighbour. No large dog would allow another to dine while he himself was hungry; and it would end by the strongest getting all the bones, while the poor, inferior curs were worse off than ever. So I determined to respect the rights of property, for the sake of small dogs as well as for my own.
After all, starvation was not inevitable. It might be possible to get a dinner without fighting for it. I sat down opposite my new acquaintance, and entered into civil conversation with him. I found him much more friendly than I expected. He had certainly been accustomed to more indulgence and idleness than was good for him, but his natural disposition was not entirely spoilt. He was the peculiar pet of a lady, who thought it kindness to cram him from morning till night with food that disagreed with him, to provide him with no occupation, and to deprive him of healthy exercise, so that no wonder he had grown lazy and selfish; but his native spirit was not entirely extinguished, and he assured me that a bare bone to growl over, and a little comfortable rain and mud to disport himself in like a dog, were still the greatest treats that could be offered to him. His temper had been farther soured by the spite and envy of dogs around him, who, less petted themselves, and not aware how little his petting contributed to his comfort, grudged him every thing that he possessed, and lost no opportunity of snapping and snarling at him.
When I reflected on the difference between his circumstances and my own, I felt more inclined to pity than to blame him; but though I condoled with him kindly, and whined in sympathy, I took care to give him the best advice in my power, and to suggest such changes in his own conduct as might tend to better his lot.
He listened with patience and candour, and showed his gratitude by treating me with the most cordial hospitality. He gave me an excellent bone, and offered to share his kennel with me; but after my dinner and a nap I was so thoroughly refreshed, that I preferred continuing my journey. He pressed me to call on him in my way back, provided I returned alone; but honestly confessed that if I was accompanied by a cat, he feared that the force of habit might be too strong to allow of his being as polite to her as he could wish. Remembering my own early prejudices, I had no right to blame him; and we parted excellent friends, though I declined his invitation.