Part 18 (1/2)

The household bread of the poor, in Scotland, is made of oatmeal, and being not baked in loaves, but rolled out thin, is often called cake.

While they were speaking, the dog rushed in, and leaped upon his master, whining earnestly.

An oatmeal cake was given him. He appeared hungry but ate only a small portion of it. The remainder he took in his mouth, and ran away. The shepherd followed him. It was with difficulty, that he kept his track, fording a swift streamlet, and descending into a terrible ravine.

Then he entered a cave. And what was his joy to see there his little, lost son. He was eating heartily the bread which the dog had brought him, while he, standing by, and wagging his tail, looked up in his face with delight, as he took the food, which he n.o.bly denied himself.

It seems that the dog was with the child, when, in the dimness of the mist, he wandered away. He must have aided him to pa.s.s the deep waters that crossed his path. And when he found shelter in that rude cavern, and mourned for his parents, the faithful dog guarded him like a father, and fed him with a mother's tenderness.

How can we fail to treat with kindness, a race of animals, that are capable of such virtues. Others, that are less celebrated, often show traits of character, which are worthy of imitation. Let us hear the opinion of the poet Cowper, on this interesting subject.

”We too might learn, if not too proud to stoop To animal instructors, many a good And useful quality, and virtue too, Rarely exemplified among ourselves.

Fidelity, that neither bribe nor threat Can move, or warp, and grat.i.tude for small And trivial favours, lasting as the life, And glistening even from the dying eye.”

Birds give us an example of tender affection. There is no warfare in their nests. The little brothers and sisters dwell together in harmony, till they are able to stretch out the newly-plumed wing, and quit the care of the parent. Say they not to us, as they sing among the branches, ”_Live in love!_”

The innocent dove, is cited as a model in the Book of G.o.d. ”Be ye harmless as doves,” said our Saviour, to his disciples. The stork spreads out its broad pinions, and bears its aged parents, on their journey through the air. It feeds and cherishes them with the same care, that it received in its own helpless infancy. Shall we not learn from it a lesson of filial piety?

Once, a robin, in returning to her nest, was shot dead. The mate mourned bitterly for her loss, but took her place upon the nest. There he brooded, until the young came forth from the egg, and then he sought food, and fed them like a mother, until they were able to fly away.

Often while he was performing her duties, and always at the close of day, his plaintive note was heard, lamenting his lost love. Ah! who could be so wicked as to destroy the nest, or the eggs, or the young, of those affectionate creatures. Our Father in Heaven, ”taketh care of sparrows, and feedeth the young ravens that cry.”

The Trembling Eyelid.

It was the day before Christmas, in the year 1778, during our war of revolution, that an armed vessel sailed out of Boston. She was strongly built, and carried twenty guns, and a crew of one hundred and five persons; with provisions for a cruise of six months.

She made a fine appearance, as she spread her broad sails, and steered out of the harbour. Many hearts wished her success. And she bore as goodly a company of bold and skilful seamen, as ever braved the perils of the deep.

Soon the north wind blew, and brought a heavy sea into the bay. The night proved dark, and they came to anchor with difficulty, near the harbour of Plymouth. The strong gale that buffeted them became a storm, and the storm a hurricane.

Snow fell, and the cold was terribly severe. The vessel was driven from her moorings, and struck on a reef of rocks. She began to fill with water, and they were obliged to cut away her masts. The sea rose above her main deck, sweeping over it with its dark surges.

They made every exertion that courage could prompt, or hardihood endure.

But so fearful were the wind and cold, that the stoutest man was not able to strike more than two or three blows, in cutting away the masts, without being relieved by another.

The wretched people thronged together upon the quarter-deck, which was crowded almost to suffocation. They were exhausted with toil and suffering, but could obtain neither provisions, nor fresh water. These were all covered by the deep sea, when the vessel became a wreck.

But, unfortunately, the crew got access to ardent spirits, and many of them drank, and became intoxicated. Insubordination, mutiny, and madness ensued. The officers, remained clear-minded, but lost all authority over the crew, who raved around them.

A more frightful scene, can scarcely be imagined: the dark sky, the raging storm, the waves breaking wildly over the rocks, and threatening every moment to swallow up the broken vessel; and the half-frozen beings who maintained their icy hold on life, lost to reason, and to duty, or fighting fiercely with each other.

Some lay in disgusting stupidity; others, with fiery faces, blasphemed G.o.d. Some, in temporary delirium, fancied themselves in palaces, surrounded by luxury, and brutally abused the servants, who, they supposed, refused to do their bidding.

Others there were, who, amid the beating of that pitiless tempest, believed themselves in the homes that they never more must see, and with hollow, reproachful voices, besought bread, and wondered why water was withheld from them by the hands that were most dear.

A few, whose worst pa.s.sions were quickened by alcohol to a fiend-like fury, a.s.saulted or wounded those who came in their way, making their shrieks of defiance, and their curses heard above the roar of the storm. Intemperance never displayed itself in more distressing att.i.tudes.

At length, Death began to do his work. The miserable creatures fell every hour upon the deck, frozen, stiff, and hard. Each corpse, as it became breathless, was laid upon a heap of dead, that more s.p.a.ce might be left for the survivors. Those who drank most freely, were the first to perish.