"Dear Job, when I met you this morning in your new dress and

occupation, I had not then read your letter. I had but just

returned, and was taking a walk with my brother, who had

arrived from abroad during my absence. I knew you at once, in

spite of your change of costume, and though I did not

particularly like the business you had chosen, I felt certain

you had good reasons for having selected it. But when I looked

in your face, instead of the smile of welcome which I expected

from you, I could read nothing but shame, confusion, and

annoyance. Why? dear Job, why? If you were _ashamed_ of your

occupation, why had you chosen it? I suppose when you took it

up, you resolved to do your duty in it properly; then why feel

_shame_ because _your friend_ sees you, as you must have

thought she would one day see you, since the nature of your

new business carries you into different parts of the city?

"But, dear Job, I feel certain, and I would like you to be

equally sure, that there is no need of _shame_ in following

any busines which is _honest_, and which can be carried on

without doing injury to others. It is not the business,

believe me, dear Job, which lowers a dog; _he himself_ is

alone capable of _lowering_ himself, and one dog may be truly

good and noble, though he drive a meat-barrow about the

streets, while another may be a miserable, mean animal, though

living in a palace and never soiling his paws.

"I have a great deal more to say, my dear Job, upon this

subject, but I must leave the rest till I see you. I have

already crossed and recrossed my note, and may be most

difficult to understand where I most want to be clear. Here is

a nice open space, however, in the corner, which I seize on

with pleasure to write myself most distinctly,

"Your friend,

"FIDA."

A variety of feelings passed through my mind as I read these lines. But

they were all lost in my wonder at Fida's cleverness in being able to

read my face, as if it had been a book. I was grateful to her for the

good advice she gave me, and now felt ashamed for having been ashamed

before. The best way I thought to prove my thankfulness would be to act

openly and naturally as Fida had pointed out, for I could not help

confessing, as my eyes looked again and again over her note, that she was

quite right, and that I had acted like a very silly animal.

I was interrupted during my reflections by the bursting of rain upon the

house-roofs, and the stream which rose from the streets as the large

drops came faster and faster down. I went to the door to look for my old

friend, but not a dog was to be seen. I was surprised at the sight of the

sky where I had observed the clouds rising a little while before, for now

those same clouds looked like big rocks piled one above another, with

patches of light shining through great caverns.

As I stared eagerly down the street, torrents of water poured from above,

which, instead of diminishing, seemed to be growing more terrible every

moment. I had never seen so fearful a storm. It did not appear like mere

rain which was falling; the water came down in broad sheets, and changed

the road into a river. I got more and more anxious about old Nip. It was

getting dark, and I knew he was not strong. My hope was that he had

taken shelter somewhere; but I could not rest, for I was sure he would

try and get home, if only to quiet me. While running in and out in my

anxiety--the water having meanwhile risen above the sill of the door, and

poured into our little house, where it was already above my paws--I spied

a dark figure crawling along the street, and with great difficulty making

way against the beating of the storm. I at once rushed out, and swimming

rather than running towards the object, I found my poor friend almost

spent with fatigue, and scarcely able to move, having a heavy load to

carry besides his own old limbs, which were not fit to battle with such a

tempest. I caught up his package; and assisting him as well as I was

able, we at length got to our cottage, though we were forced to get upon

the bench that stood by the wall to keep our legs out of the water. The

rain had now become a perfect deluge. A stream of water went hissing down

the street, and rushed in and out of the houses as if they had been

baths.

When Nip recovered breath, he told me that terrible things were happening

in the parts of the city by the waterside. The river had swollen so much,

that some kennels had been carried away by the current, and it was

impossible to learn how many poor dogs had been drowned. This news made

me jump again from the bench where I had been sitting.

"What is it?" said Nip.

"I am going out, Nip," replied I. "I must not be idle here, when I can,

perhaps, be of use somewhere else."

"That is true," said Nip; "but, Job, strong as you are, the storm is

stronger."

"Yes, Nip," answered I; "but there are dogs weaker than myself who may

require such assistance as I can give them, and it is not a time for a

dog to sit with his tail curled round him, when there are

fellow-creatures who may want a helping paw. So good-bye, old friend; try

and go to sleep; you have done your duty as long as your strength let

you, it is now for me to do mine." Without waiting for a reply, I rushed

out at the door.

It did not need much exertion to get through our street or the next, or

the next after that, for as they all sloped downwards, the water more

than once took me off my legs, and carried me along. Sad as Nip's news

had been, I was not prepared for the terrible scene which met my eyes

when I got near the river. The houses at the lower part of the street I

had reached had been swept away by the torrent, and a crowd of shivering

dogs stood looking at the groaning river as it rolled past in great waves

as white as milk, in which black objects, either portions of some kennel

or articles of furniture, were floating. Every now and then, a howl would

break from a doggess in the crowd, as a dead body was seen tossed about

by the angry water; and the same dolorous cries might be heard from

different quarters, mixed up with the roar of the river.

While standing with a group of three or four, staring with astonishment

at the frightful scene, uncertain what to do, a howl was heard from

another direction, so piercing that it made many of us run to learn the

cause. The pale light showed us that the torrent had snapped the supports

of a house at some distance from the river's bank, but which the swollen

stream had now reached, and carried away at least half the building. By

some curious chance, the broken timbers had become fixed for the moment

in the boiling water, which, angry at the obstruction, was rushing round

or flying completely over them; and it was easy to see that in a very

short time the mass would be swept away. Upon the timbers thus exposed

were three little pups scarce two months old, yelping most dismally as

they crouched together, or crawled to the edge of their raft; while on

the floor of the ruin from which this side had been torn away, was their

poor mother, whose fearful howl had attracted us thither, and who was

running from side to side of the shattered hut as if she was frantic.

Great as the danger was, I could not bear to think the wretched mother

should see her little ones swallowed up by the stormy water, before her

very eyes, without a single attempt being made to save them. Although I

could scarcely hope even to reach them in safety, and in no case could

bring more than one of them to land at once, if I even got so far, I

resolved to make the trial. Better save one, I thought, than let all die.

Holding my breath, I launched into the current in the direction of the

raft, and soon found that I had not been wrong in calculating the

difficulties and dangers of the undertaking. It was not the water alone

which made the peril so great, though the eddies seemed at every moment

to be pulling me to the bottom, but there were so many things rushing

along with the stream as to threaten to crush me as they flew by; and had

they struck me, there is no doubt there would have been an end of my

adventures. Avoiding them all, though I know not how, I was getting near

the spot where the little pups were crying for their mother, when I felt

myself caught in an eddy and dragged beneath the water. Without losing

courage, but not allowing myself to breathe, I made a strong effort, and

at last, got my head above the surface again; but where was the raft?

Where were the helpless puppies? All had gone--not a trace was left to

tell where they had been--the river foamed over the spot that had held

them for a time, and was now rushing along as if boasting of its

strength.

Seeing my intentions thus defeated, I turned my head towards the shore,

resolving to swim to land. To my surprise, I found that I made no

progress. I put out all my strength--I fought with the water--I threw

myself forward--it was in vain--I could not move a paw's breadth against

the current. I turned to another point--I again used every exertion--all

was useless--I felt my tired limbs sink under me--I felt the stream

sweeping me away--my head turned round in the agony of that moment, and I

moaned aloud.

My strength was now gone--I could scarce move a paw to keep my head down

the river. A dark object came near--it was a large piece of timber,

probably a portion of some ruined building. Seizing it as well as my

weakness would permit me, I laid my paws over the floating wood, and,

dragging my body a little more out of the water, got some rest from my

terrible labours.

[Illustration: AFLOAT]

Where was I hurrying to? I knew not. Every familiar object must have been

long passed, but it was too obscure to make out anything except the angry

torrent. On, on I went, in darkness and in fear--yes, great fear, not of

death, but a fear caused by the strangeness of my position, and the

uncertainty before me; on, on, till the black shores seemed to fly from

each other, and the river to grow and grow until all land had

disappeared, and nothing but the water met my aching eyes. I closed them

to shut out the scene, and tried to forget my misery.

Had I slept? And what was the loud noise which startled me so that I had

nearly let go my hold? I roused myself--I looked around--I was tossing up

and down with a regular motion, but could see nothing clearly, I was no

longer carried forward so swiftly as before, but the dim light prevented

me making out the place I was now in.

Suddenly, a flash broke from the black clouds, and for a single moment

shed a blue light over everything. What a spectacle! All around, for

miles and miles and miles, was nothing but dancing water, like shining

hills with milky tops, but not a living creature beside myself to keep me

company, or say a kind word, or listen to me when I spoke, or pity me

when I moaned! Oh! who could tell what I then felt, what I feared, and

what I suffered! Alone! alone!

When I think, as I often do now, of that terrible scene, and figure to

myself my drenched body clinging to that piece of timber, I seem to feel

a strange pity for the miserable dog thus left, as it seemed, to die,

away from all his fellows, without a friendly howl raised, to show there

was a single being to regret his loss--and I cannot help at such times

murmuring to myself, as if it were some other animal, "Poor Job! poor

dog!"

I remember a dimness coming over my eyes after I had beheld that world of

water--I have a faint recollection of thinking of Fida--of poor Nip--of

the drowning puppies I had tried in vain, to save--of my passing through

the streets of Caneville with my meat-barrow, and wondering how I could

have been so foolish as to feel ashamed of doing so--and then--and

then--I remember nothing more.

PAINS AND PLEASURES.

When I again opened my eyes after the deep sleep which had fallen upon

me, morning was just breaking, and a grey light was in the sky and on the

clouds which dotted it all over.

As I looked round, you may well think, with hope and anxiety, still

nothing met my view but the great world of water, broken up into a

multitude of little hills. I now understood that I was on the sea, where

I had been borne by the rushing river; that sea of which I had often

read, but which I could form no idea about till this moment.

The sad thought struck me that I must stop there, tossed about by the

wind and beaten by the waves, until I should die of hunger, or that,

spent with fatigue, my limbs would refuse to sustain me longer, and I

should be devoured by some of the monsters of the deep, who are always on

the watch for prey.

Such reflections did not help to make my position more comfortable, and

it was painful enough in itself without them. It was certain, however,

that complaint or sorrow could be of no service, and might be just the

contrary, as the indulging in either would, probably, prevent my doing

what was necessary to try and save myself should an opportunity offer.

The grey light, in the meantime, had become warmer and warmer in its

tone, until the face of every cloud towards the east was tinged with

gold. While I was admiring the beautiful sight, for it was so beautiful

that it made me forget for a time my sad position, my eyes were caught

by the shining arch of the rising sun, as it sprang all of a sudden above

the surface of the sea. Oh! never shall I forget the view! Between me and

the brilliant orb lay a pathway of gold, which rose, and fell, and

glittered, and got at last so broad and dazzling, that my eyes could look

at it no longer. I knew it was but the sun's light upon the water, but it

looked so firm, that I could almost fancy I should be able to spring upon

it, and run on and on until I reached some friendly country. But alas!

there seemed little chance of such a thing happening as my ever reaching

land again.

As the sun got high up, and poured his rays on to the sea, I began to

feel a craving for food, and, though surrounded with water, yet the want

of some to drink. When the thirst came upon me, I at first lapped up a

few drops of the sea-water with avidity, but I soon found that it was not

fit to drink, and that the little I had taken only made my thirst the

greater. In the midst of my suffering, a poor bird came fluttering

heavily along, as if his wings were scarce able to support his weight.

Every little object was interesting to me just then, and as I sat upon my

piece of timber I looked up at the trembling creature, and began

comparing his fate with my own. "Ah, Job," I said, half-aloud, "you

thought, perhaps, that you were the only unhappy being in the world. Look

at that poor fowl; there he is, far away from land, from his home, from

his friends, perhaps his little ones (for many birds have large

families), with tired wings, and not a piece of ground as broad as his

own tail for him to rest upon. He must go on, fatigued though he may be,

for if he fall, nothing can prevent his death; the water will pour among

his feathers, clog his wings, and not only prevent him ever rising more

into the air, but pull him down until his life is gone. So, Job, badly

off as you are just now, there is another, as you see, whose fate is

worse; and who shall say that in other places, where your eye cannot

reach, there are not others yet so very, very miserable, that they would

willingly, oh! how willingly! change places with you, or with that poor

fluttering bird?"

This talk with myself quieted me for a time, and I felt a certain joy

when I saw the bird slowly descend, and having spied my uncomfortable

boat, perch heavily on the other end of it. He did not do so until he had

looked at me with evident alarm; and, worn out as he was, and his heart

beating as though it would burst through his yellow coat, he still kept

his eyes fixed upon me, ready to take wing and resume his journey,

wherever he might be going, at the least motion I should make.

Some time passed over in this way; myself in the middle, and Dicky at the

end of the beam. We did not say a word to each other; for, as I spoke no

other language but my own, and he seemed about as clever as myself, we

merely talked with our eyes.

A thought now came into my head. My thirst returned, and I felt very

hungry. What if I should suddenly dart on little Dicky, and make a meal

of him? I did not consider at the instant that, by so doing, I should be

acting a very base part, for Dicky had placed confidence in me; and

killing him for trusting to my honour, and eating him because he was poor

and unfortunate, would be neither a good return nor a kind action.

Luckily for Dicky, and even for myself, although he was not able to speak

foreign languages, he could read my meaning in my eyes; for when I turned

them slowly towards him, just to see my distance, he took alarm, and rose

into the air with a swiftness which I envied. I am sorry to say my only

thought at first was the having lost my dinner: but as I watched him

through the air, flying on and on, until he diminished to a misty speck,

and then disappeared, my better feelings came back to me and said, "Oh,

Job! I would not have believed this of you!" "But," replied my empty

stomach, "I am so hungry; without food, I shall fall in, and Job will

die." "Let Job die," said my better self again, in a cold, firm tone;

"let Job rather die, than do what he would live to feel ashamed of."

As the day wore on, I began to think that death only could relieve me;

and the thought was very, very painful. Nothing before and around but the

salt waves--nothing above but the blue sky and hot sun--not even a cloud

on which to rest my aching eyes. The want of water which I could drink

was now becoming terrible. When I thought of it, my head began to turn;

my brain seemed to be on fire; and the public basins of Caneville, where

only the lowest curs used to quench their thirst, danced before me to add

to my torture; for I thought, though I despised them once, how I could

give treasures of gold for one good draught at the worst of them just

then.

There is not a misfortune happens to us from which we may not derive good

if our hearts are not quite hardened, and our minds not totally

impenetrable. Great as my sufferings were during this incident of my

life, I learnt from it much that has been useful to me in after years.

But even if it had taught me no other truth than that we should despise

nothing which is good and wholesome, merely because it is ordinary, I

should not have passed through those sad hours in vain. We dogs are so

apt, when in prosperity, to pamper our appetites, and, commonly speaking,

to turn up our noses at simple food, that we require, from time to time,

to be reminded on how little canine life can be preserved. All have not

had the advantage of the lesson which I was blessed with; for it _was_ a

blessing; one that has so impressed itself on my memory, that sometimes

when I fancy I cannot eat anything that is put before me, because it is

too much done, or not done enough, or has some other real or supposed

defect, I say to myself, "Job, Job, what would you have given for a tiny

bit of the worst part of it when you were at sea?" And then I take it at

once, and find it excellent.

As the sun got lower, clouds, the same in shape that had welcomed him in

the morning, rose up from the sea as if to show their pleasure at his

return. He sunk into the midst of them and disappeared; and then the

clouds came up and covered all the sky. I suffered less in the cool

evening air, and found with pleasure that it was growing into a breeze.

My pleasure soon got greater still, for, with the wind, I felt some drops

of rain! The first fell upon my burning nose; but the idea of fresh water

was such a piece of good fortune, that I dared not give loose to my joy

until the drops began to fall thickly on and around me, and there was a

heavy shower. I could scarcely give my rough coat time to get thoroughly

wet before I began sucking at it. It was not nice at first, being mixed

with the salt spray by which I had been so often covered; but as the rain

still came down, the taste was fresher every moment, and soon got most

delicious. I seemed to recover strength as I licked my dripping breast

and shoulders; and though evening changed to dark night, and the rain was

followed by a strong wind, which got more and more fierce, and appeared

to drive me and my friendly log over the waves as if we had been bits of

straw, I felt no fear, but clung to the timber, and actually gave way to

hope.

I must have slept again, for daylight was once more in the sky when I

unclosed my eyes. Where was I now? My sight was dim, and though I could

see there was no longer darkness, I could make out nothing else. Was I

still on the rolling water? Surely not; for I felt no motion. I passed my

paw quickly across my eyes to brush away the mist which covered them. I

roused myself. The beam of wood was still beneath me, but my legs surely

touched the ground! My sight came back to me, and showed me, true, the

sea stretching on, on, on, in the distance, but showed me also that

_I_--oh, joy!--_I_ had reached the shore!

When my mind was able to believe the truth, I sprang on to the solid land

with a cry which rings in my ears even now. What though my weakness was

so great that I tumbled over on to the beach and filled my mouth with

sand? I could have licked every blade of grass, every stone, in my

ecstacy; and when forced to lie down from inability to stand upon my

legs, I drove my paws into the earth, and held up portions to my face, to

convince myself that I was indeed on shore. I did not trouble myself much

with questions as to how I got there. I did not puzzle my brain to

inquire whether the wind which had risen the evening before, and which I

felt driving me on so freely, had at length chased me to the land. All I

seemed to value was the fact that I was indeed _there_; and all I could

persuade myself to say or think was the single, blessed word, SAVED!

I must have lain some time upon the sand before I tried again to move,

for when I scrambled on to my legs the sun was high and hot--so hot, that

it had completely dried my coat, and made me wish for shelter. Dragging

myself with some trouble to a mound of earth, green and sparkling with

grass and flowers, I managed to get on top of it; and when I had

recovered from the effort, for I was very weak, looked about me with

curiosity to observe the place where I had been thrown.

The ground was level close to where I stood, but at a little distance it

rose into gentle grassy hills, with short bushes here and there; and just

peeping over them, were the tops of trees still farther off, with

mountains beyond, of curious forms and rich blue colour.

While considering this prospect, I suddenly observed an animal on one of

the hills coming towards me, and I lay down at full length on the grass

to examine who he might be. As he drew nearer, I was surprised at his

form and look (I afterwards learnt that he was called an ape), and

thought I had never beheld so queer a being. He had a stick in his right

hand, and a bundle in his left, and kept his eyes fixed on the ground as

he walked along.

When he was quite close, I rose again, to ask him where I could procure

food and water, of which I felt great want. The motion startled him; and

stepping back, he took his stick in both hands as if to protect himself.

The next moment he put it down, and coming up to me, to my surprise

addressed me in my own language, by inquiring how I came there. My

astonishment was so great at first that I could not reply; and when I did

speak, it was to ask him how it happened that he used my language. To

this he answered, that he had been a great traveller in his day, and

among other places had visited my city, where he had studied and been

treated kindly for a long time; that he loved dogs, and should be only

too happy now to return some of the favours he had received. This speech

opened my heart; but before he would let me say more, he untied his

bundle, and spread what it contained before me. As there were several

savoury morsels, you may believe I devoured them with great

appetite--indeed, I hope Master Ximio's opinion of me was not formed from

the greediness with which I ate up his provisions.

After I had refreshed myself at a spring of water, we sat down, and I

told him my story. He heard me patiently to the end, when, after a pause,

he exclaimed--

"Come, Job, come with me. A few days' rest will restore your strength,

and you can return to your own city. It is not a long journey over land;

and with stout limbs like those, you will soon be able to get back and

lick old Nip again."

The Adventures of a Dog, and a Good Dog Too · 第 3 / 5 段