“Dermot, I have so often heard you praised for your humanity to animals, that I can scarcely believe it possible that you have been accessory to the sufferings of this useful and affectionate animal; he is just as serviceable to society in his way, as you are in yours, and you are just as well able to drag a loaded cart as he is to draw that little car. Come now, I am not so heavy as the load you have destined him to bear, and you are much stronger than your dog, and now you shall draw me home to the castle; and then give me your opinion on the subject.”
In one moment his companions, laughing vociferously at the idea, had the stones flung out of the little vehicle, and fastened its harness on the broad shoulders of the half pouting, half smiling Dermot; and the next moment this little agile sylph was seated in the car.
Away went Dermot, dragged on by the rest of the boys, while Glorvina, delighted as a child with her new mode of conveyance, laughed with all her heart, and kissed her hand to me as she flew along; while I, trembling for her safety, endeavoured to keep pace with her triumphal chariot, till her wearied, breathless Phaeton, unable to run any further with his lovely, laughing burthen, begged a respite.
“How!” said she, “weary of this amusement, and yet you have not at every step been cruelly lashed like your poor dog.”
The panting Dermot hung his head, and said in Irish, “the like should not happen again.”
“It is enough,” said Glorvina, in the same language—“we are all liable to commit a fault, but let us never forget it is in our power to correct it. And now go to the castle where you shall have a good dinner, in return for the good and pleasant exercise you have procured me.”
The boys were as happy as kings. Dermot was unyoked, and the poor dog, wagging his tail in token of his felicity, accompanied the gratified group to the castle.
When Glorvina had translated to me the subject of her short dialogue with Dermot, she added, laughing, “Oh! how I should like to be dragged about this way for two or three hours every day: never do I enter into any little folly of this kind, that I do not sigh for those sweet hours of my childhood when I could play the fool with impunity.”
“Play the fool!” said I—“and do you call this playing the fool—this dispensation of humanity, this culture of benevolence in the youthful mind, these lessons of truth and goodness, so sweetly, so simply given?”
“Nay,” she returned, “you always seem inclined to flatter me into approbation of myself! but the truth is, I was glad to seize on the opportunity of lecturing that urchin Dermot, who, though I praised his humanity, is the very beadle to all the unfortunate animals in the neighbourhood. But I have often had occasion to remark, that, by giving a virtue to these neglected children which they do not possess, I have awakened their emulation to attain it.”