LEO AND THE MONKEY.
Leo had two very strong friends at the stable, with whom he passed much
of his time. These were some large pigs, occupying a nice, warm pen on
the south side of the barn.
When Leo left his own house to make them a visit, they received him with
a grunt of welcome. One cold night, the hostler went, at a late hour,
into the stable with his lantern, to see that all the animals were
comfortably bedded. As he approached the pig-pen, he was surprised to
hear a loud snoring, unlike the noise pigs make in their sleep. He
entered cautiously, fearing a straggler had sought shelter there. This
fear was quickly changed to mirth, however, as he saw Leo lying on his
back between the two pigs, his feet extending some distance below them,
while they were pressed closely up to his body, to impart to him as much
as possible of their warmth.
A few weeks after this, one of the pigs was carried away by the butcher
to be killed. Leo mourned for his friend, and paid redoubled attention
to the one who was left, as if to make up to him for the loss of his
companion.
I don't know that I have described Leo.
He was a large, shaggy dog, of the Newfoundland breed, black as jet,
with a white tip to his bushy tail, and three white feet.
Leo's eyes were very bright, and his whole countenance remarkably
intelligent. He was a most useful animal about the stable, always giving
notice by a loud, fierce bark, when a stranger, and particularly an
ill-dressed one, tried to enter. He was good-natured, too, and was never
but once known to bite or seriously injure any person.
One day, the hostler, having gone into the city, left Leo in charge of
the stable, as usual. About noon, a man entered and began to walk
around.
After a few loud, prolonged barks, which brought no one to his aid, Leo
concluded he must take care of the man himself. Every step that the
stranger went he followed him, not molesting him in any way until the
man took down a handsome fur robe from the shelf, and secreted it in the
hay, near the window. He then proceeded to leave, when Leo caught him
and held him fast.
Nearly an hour later, when the hostler returned, they were still in this
position, the robber frightened almost out of his wits, and not daring
to move lest the dog should kill him.
Being closely questioned by the hostler, he acknowledged his theft, and
said that he had intended to come in the night and take away the robe,
which he knew was valuable, by removing the window.
While he was talking, Leo watched him narrowly, and then followed him
from the barn, growling continually.
Leo was very fond of his young mistress, whom in her babyhood, he had
many times carried on his back around the gravelled walks near the
house.
Minnie was fond of him too, and sometimes put her arms around his neck
and kissed him.
When he saw her coming, he always ran to meet her, wagging his tail with
pleasure.
But there was one member of the family Leo did not like at all, and no
inducements which his master could urge would bring him on even decently
friendly terms with him.
This was Jacko, the monkey, who by his grinning and chattering, and
uncouth gestures, so disgusted the great dog, that he kept as far from
his cage as possible.
One morning, about three months after Minnie's cousin Ida had come to
reside with them, the little girl was taken suddenly ill. When she was
partially recovered, it was curious to see her sitting bolstered up in
bed, with so many pets around her.
First, there was Poll, hopping up and down from her perch to the floor
of the cage, chattering continually between her fits of coughing, "I'm
sick! I'm sick! O, what a cold!" and then, changing her tone, "better
now! better to-day!"
On the bed were Fidelle and Tiney, the latter nestled closely under his
little mistress's arm.
By the side of the couch, with his fore paws resting on the white
counterpane, stood Leo, grave and dignified, seeming to realize more
than any of them what a sad thing it was for Minnie to be lying there,
instead of running over the grounds as usual.
Just at this moment, Anne came into the room bringing Jacko, who began
to grin and chatter with delight.
Mrs. Lee directed the woman to fasten the monkey's chain tightly to the
post of the bedstead, and let him have his liberty; but she soon
regretted having done so, for Leo, who had bristled up the moment Jacko
came in, with a deep growl sprang upon him, and would have torn him in
pieces, had not the united force of several persons present caught the
little fellow away, and shut him in a closet.
The excitement proved too much for Minnie, and she began to sob
hysterically.
Leo came to lick her hand, apparently aware that he had done wrong, but
she cried out,--
"Go away, you naughty dog. I don't love you at all now."
Leo was presently sent from the room. Jacko, after overturning every
thing in the closet, was returned to his cage, and then, in order to
soothe the little girl, Mrs. Lee proposed that Ida should bring the
book, and read some anecdotes about dogs.
The first one she read was this:--
"Rev. James Simpson, of Edinburgh, had a large Newfoundland dog. At one
time he resided at Libberton, about two miles out of the city, in a
pleasant house surrounded with a garden.
"One sacrament Sunday, the servant, who was left at home in charge of
the house, thought it a good opportunity to entertain her friends, as
her master and mistress were not likely to return home till after the
evening service, about nine o'clock.
"The company assembled, and wandered together over the house and
grounds, the dog accompanying them wherever they went in the most
attentive manner, and seeming greatly pleased.
"As the time approached for Mr. and Mrs. Simpson to return, the party
prepared to separate, and at last proceeded to do so; but the dog, the
instant they went to the door, interposed.
"Planting himself firmly before the entrance, he would not allow one of
them to touch the handle. While they were quiet, he offered no force;
but the moment they attempted to move, he became furious; and with deep,
angry growls and a menacing manner, drove them back into the kitchen,
where he kept them till the arrival of his master and mistress.
"The surprise of the good clergyman and his wife may be imagined, when,
on entering the house, they found a party assembled there at so late an
hour, and the dog standing sentinel over them.
"Being thus detected, the guilty servant acknowledged her crime, when
her friends were allowed to depart, after being admonished by the worthy
divine in regard to the proper use of the Sabbath.
"Soon after this, Mr. Simpson was obliged to leave his country residence
on account of his children's education, and remove into Edinburgh.
Speaking one day to a friend, he said, 'I regret extremely that I shall
be obliged to part with my faithful dog, as he is too large to be kept
in a city house.'
"The animal was present, and heard him say this, and must have
understood what was meant, for he disappeared that very evening, and was
never afterwards heard from."
Minnie was silent a few minutes when her cousin ceased reading, and
then said, half crying,--
"I'm afraid Leo will go away, for I told him I did not love him."
Ida gayly approached the window, expecting to see the dog, as usual at
this hour, sunning himself in front of the stable; but as she did not,
she offered to go and find him. She had scarcely reached the hall when
she met him coming up the stairs. He looked wishfully in her face, and
then went to Minnie's door, and began to scratch upon it.
Ida opened it, wondering what he wanted, when Leo, with his tail between
his legs as if conscious he had done wrong, went directly to the couch,
and putting his cold nose into Minnie's hand, asked, as well as he
could, to be forgiven for his offence.
"I do love you, Leo," she exclaimed, caressing him; "you're a real good
dog; and you won't hurt Jacko again. Poor Jacko!"
On hearing these words, Leo began to wag his tail joyfully, and then,
putting his paws on the bed, licked the hand she playfully held out to
him.