Dogs of all nations. In prose and rhyme

Introduction

This collection of stories and doggerel grew naturally out of a child's demand for more, and still more stories about dogs.

Forced to go outside his own range of facts and imagination for material to satisfy this small person's insatiable desire for "something you never told me before/' the writer was surprised to find how many people are ready to vouch for the truth of remarkable stories about dogs. He saw, moreover, that the honesty and fidelity of dogs could be used to "point a moral and adorn a tale," calculated to instill kindness into the heart, without arousing the usual indignant protest against the story with a moral attached.

Beginning with an audience of one, he soon found that other children of bigger growth, were just as interested in the doings of dogs as she, which is his reason for publishing these tales, as they were first told, on the spur of the moment, in prose and rhyme.

Contents

i.

ii.

in.

II. Barry

In the National Museum at Berne,

Is a dog as he looked in his prime; From him a great lesson we learn,

They tell it in prose and in rhyme: What gives him eternal renown,

Is a story that lives for all time — He saved forty lives that illumine his crown,

And leaves a memory forever sublime.

Following is a picture of the noblest and most illustrious dog of which history has made any record. He belonged to the Hospice on the great St. Bernard mountain in Switzerland, and his occupation was to search for lost mountain climbers, which he did with fidelity and courage. For twelve years his life was devoted to facing

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blinding snowstorms, climbing up mountain steeps, venturing along dangerous precipices and across treacherous glaciers, and as a result of his untiring work for unfortunate men he has to his credit the saving of more than forty lives.

Perhaps all of the readers of this book are not familiar with the object of the Hospice on the St. Bernard. It was established hundreds of years ago for the purpose of giving shelter, food, and medical treatment to unfortunate travellers who lose their bearings or meet with misfortune such as mountain climbers are liable to experience. All persons, without regard to religion or nationality, are hospitably received and cared for, no charge being made — one can give what he wishes, or nothing; but nearly everyone who is entertained there drops something when leaving, into a box placed at the door.

The dogs belonging to the Hospice are taught to search the mountains for lost ones, and when tourists have lost their way or been caught in a snowstorm or perhaps fallen down a precipice or been carried down by sliding glaciers, these dogs are sent out to hunt for the men, and they seek high and low for them. The dogs carry a little barrel and blankets, of which mention will be made in other chapters. Of all the dogs that have belonged to the St. Bernard Institution, none have achieved so much fame as Barry. It is said of him, when a snowstorm came up, he displayed the greatest anxiety, seeming to know that if there were any men in the mountains, search must be made for them, as they were in danger of losing their lives, and he would start off immediately and run all night, or until he found them, returning sometimes in such an exhausted condition as to fall over fainting.

After twelve years of labor for humanity, he died, causing deep sorrow among the noble band of monks with whom Barry was associated in a labor of love. Those having charge of the Hospice of St. Bernard decided to perpetuate the faithful dog's memory in some way that he would not soon be forgotten. They gave his body into the hands of a taxidermist to use his best skill to preserve him. This was done so well that he looks just as he did in life, and they wished him placed in the National Museum of Switzerland, where he could be seen for generations to come. There in Berne, the capital of the Swiss confederation, in the Museum, in a glass case, is Barry, to be seen by everyone who visits the Museum. He has the appearance of a creature of great humility and simplicity— ^a trait that belongs to large souls.

What a beautiful spirit animated the self-sacrificing men in wishing a dumb brute immortalized; not caring about monuments for themselves, or what posterity might think of them.

They published a sketch of Barry's career, which we reproduce, just as it was printed nearly a hundred years ago.

Barry was born in 1800 and died in 1814.

As the writer stood at the glass ease in the museum at Berne, thinking of the marvellous intelligence of this extraordinary animal, his high and noble instincts, a gentleman standing near, also contemplating the virtues of the wonderful dog, remarked. "What an expressive physiognomy ! Splendid creature ! I lift my hat to his memory, a thing I wouldn't do at the Tomb of Xapoleon, whose genius and powers were employed in destroying human life, while the dog's whole existence was devoted to saving life/ 5

Since the above was written, the writer heard the following story, one of Barry's most creditable achievements.

He found a child ten years old lying in the snow under the influence of the fatal sleep that precedes death. The dog warmed the child with its breath and roused it from sleep by licking it. This much accomplished, Barry by lying down at its side gave the child an obvious invitation to get on and ride. The child did so, and was carried by Barry to the Hospice.

In further remembrance of their faithful friend, it is the custom of the monks of the Hospice to always name one of their dogs "Barry."

SKETCH OF BAEBY.

On the highest point of the Mountain Pass that leaves Martigny in the Valley of the Rhone across the Great Bernard into Italy — there stands in a dreary solitude, shut in by wild rugged mountains covered with eternal snow, the most elevated dwelling place in the Old World — the Hospice of St. Bernard. Ten or twelve monks reside here in the midst of the most complete wilderness, where winter reigns eight or nine months, where the thermometer marks during January and February 20° or 22° below zero, and where even during the hottest summer days, the water is frozen every morning — one enjoys scarcely twenty pleasant bright days during the year. These monks do not pass their lives in useless meditations, but devote themselves entirely to suffering mankind. Without the help of these worthy men that fulfil the duties of their order with praiseworthy devotion, the road across these wild mountains could not be used more than two months, and only during the hot summer days, and few travellers would escape the awful dangers encountered on the way. The Hospice offers to everyone a refuge, with kindly help and care.

The brave monks are especially busy in winter time, when they go forth to seek and rescue the lost wanderer. Thundering avalanches, deep snowdrifts, dense fogs and tempests do not hinder them from going in all directions and using every means of finding the lost ones. Every year many lives are saved through their endeavors.

Specially trained dogs accompany the monks, or are sent out alone to search for those in danger. So soon as the dog has found the traces of a lost wanderer, he returns to his master and makes him understand his discovery by every possible form of excitement, running backwards and forwards and showing him the w T ay to the half frozen body. Very often the dogs carry a basket tied to their necks with food and strengthening cordial, and the exhausted traveller is able to refresh himself and follow the dog to the Hospice — such a dog was Barry. Twelve long years was he ably and faithfully devoted to his calling; he alone saved more than forty lives. His zeal was extraordinary. So soon as the sky was darkened with clouds, and the fogs arose from the valleys, and the terrible snowstorm drew near, nothing could keep him back. He would run to the most dangerous part of the road, trying to find those in need of help, and if the effort was beyond his strength he bounded back to fetch assistance. When this noble and faithful animal became old and helpless, the worthy Prior sent it to Berne, requesting that the dog should be stuffed after his death and exhibited in the museum. The tender hearted man wrote: "It is pleasant to me and a consolation to know that this faithful dog who saved so many lives should not be soon forgotten after his death."

III. Grey Friars' Bobby

When visiting the fine old city of Edinburgh all lovers of dogs will find their way to Grey Friars' churchyard, where, just outside the gate, a drinking fountain stands as a memorial of canine devotion and fidelity. The fountain is surmounted by the statue of a little dog, and the inscription below tells who he was and why he is worthy to be long remembered.

The story of Grey Friars' Bobby is this: One day a pauper's funeral took place at Grey Friars' churchyard. The poor man's only mourner was a little dog, who insisted on closely following the coffin. When the funeral was over, the dog curled himself down on the grave and passed the night there. He continued to do this night after night, wandering about the neighborhood in the daytime. The people in the vicinity began to notice him, and, feeling a natural pity for the poor lonely little animal, one or another would give him food, and gradually Grey Friars' Bobby, as they began to call him, became a favorite in the neighborhood. His new friends, however, conld never coax him to spend the night in their houses, no matter how cold or how rainy the weather

(and we all know how much it can rain in Edinburgh). As night came on he would creep to his master's grave and take his rest on the spot of earth most dear to him.

Some years after a law was made that all the dogs in Edinburgh were to be licensed, and a sad day it was for the dog without any master to pay his tax. As Grey Friars' Bobby had no owner who would pay for him, he must pay the forfeit with his life. No, the faithful little dog was not so to perish. The Lord Provost of Edinburgh having heard the story of his remarkable fidelity, sent him a leather collar with a metal band with these words: "Grey Friars 7 Bobby, from the Lord Provost. Licensed forever."

So he continued to live in the neighborhood in safety with his perpetual license around his neck. It was thirteen years after his master's death before his faithful little heart ceased to beat, and every night had been spent upon that master's grave.

He was buried in the churchyard and blossoming plants mark his grave. By applying to the sexton one may still be shown the worn leather collar with its interesting inscription. It was the Baroness Burdett Coutts who caused the memorial fountain to be erected to Grey Friars' Bobby.

IV. Geace

'Twas on one of Switzerland's high mountains,

That five tourists spent a night; They had climbed its rugged wall, and the summit gleamed inl sight, When a snowstorm, fierce and furious, covered path and left no trace — But a mountain white, and a wide, wide space.

The Tourists slept in a bed of snow, And waited the coming of the morning glow.

When looking far down near the mountain base, They saw approaching the good dog Grace.

He was blazing his way up the Alpine steep, Sometimes he'd jump, and at other times creep ;

He was fetching blankets to protect them from storm, And a barrel of cordial to make them warm.

In the month of June, not many years ago, five men started up one of the high mountains in Switzerland. They consumed about six hours in reaching nearly to the top, and just as the last rocky ridge was climbed over, a violent snowstorm began and soon the path they used was lost in the snow, and it was impossible for them to start down the mountain, as there was nothing to guide them. Scaling the mountain was difficult under the most favorable conditions. There were many very narrow ledges where they had to creep along, and where one false step would have meant death. Here they were and here they must remain until the storm ceased. Xight came on, the storm continued, the snow fell fast. They had only brought a luncheon, a> they expected to return for dinner to the hotel from which they started in the morning. The food was eaten and it was already dark. Then, wrapping themselves up in the rugs they took with them for an emergency, they laid down in a bed of snow, not knowing what the morning would bring forth.

The hotel had a dog educated to search for lost mountain climbers, and early in the morning he was sent out to hunt for the men who did not return as they were expected to do the night before. The dog's name was Grace ; it was given him because he had been the saving grace of many who would have perished in snowdrifts or who had lost their bearings. As it did not snow in the valley or at the base of the mountains, he could easily trace the men to the trail they climbed. He started up just as the sun flashed its first rays upon the mountain, majestic in its mantle of ermine. The dog carried a little barrel containing cordial or Benedictine, which would warm the men. It was fastened to a collar about his neck; besides blankets were fastened round his body for their use. The men were on their feet with the first streaks of morning light, although nearly frozen stiff and almost starved. They were paid for the discomforts endured in the sublime sight of the sunrise. The scene was grand and incomparable. Looking down in the direction by which they ascended, they saw Grace working his way up the mountain side. The barrel and the blankets changed his form so much that it was hard to tell what it was. The men were cheered, because they believed it meant relief for them.

n DOGS OF ALL NATIONS

They watched the old dog as he was slowly making the ascent of the stone wall with its savage-looking crags and dangerous ledges ; sometimes he would be lost to view when creeping behind a giant rock or through a cavern. When he disappeared the men would watch his reappearance with breathless anxiety, and when they saw his old head coming up like the story in mythology of Venus rising out of the sea, their joy and enthusiasm was great, and the mountain top rang with their cheers and exclamations of happiness for the good fortune of being rescued.

While they were waiting for their deliverer, though cold and hungry, they were well paid by the magnificent and thrilling scene of the dumb animal risking its life to bring them succor, marking by its tracks through the snow a path by which they could descend the mountain in safety, and the marvellous panorama in every direction, the imposing sight of towering peaks in dazzling whiteness and mountains crimsoned by the beams of the rising sun, while stretched out in the valley below were groves of fir trees and grassy meadows.

When the hero Grace arrived at the summit, the men with tears in their eyes hugged and caressed him, stroked and patted him. When he had rested a while, they all started down the mountain, following the path he ascended, and after a hard and wearisome journey they reached the point from which they started.

Before they separated it was resolved to erect a monument over the dog's grave when he no longer climbs mountains in search of the lost, with the inscription upon it, "Saved by Grace," with the names of the five tourists saved.

They requested the owner of the grand old dog to notify them when his death occurred, and' they would immediately arrange for the stone commemorating his noble deed in saving their lives.

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TWO ST. BEENAED HEROES.

Eacing down the mountain to the valley of the Ehone, To tell him that his brother was in an arctic zone, And to save him from a worse than horrible fate, He would have to come very quickly, or it would be too late.

This is one of the most interesting and beautiful stories of dog intelligence that has ever been recorded in the annals of time to the credit of man's truest friend among all of God's dumb creatures, the dog. The writer spent a portion of the summer of 1900 very near where this thrilling and heroic act occurred.

On both sides of the Ehone Valley, in Switzerland, which begins at the upper end of Lake Geneva and extends eastward a hundred miles or more, are mountains from » few thousand to more than ten thousand feet high. Upon the mountains are hotels and resorts for summer life. The air is cool and bracing and healthful to a high degree. By the last of September most everyone has departed, and a solitary man is left to guard a hotel all winter. The snow that begins to fall in October does not melt until the next spring. The man left to take care of the house! and outbuildings has nothing to do but shovel the snow from the roofs of the buildings, as the weight of all the snow falling upon the roofs during the winter would be heavier than the timbers supporting a roof could bear. The man left in charge of one of the hotels had thrown the snow off one side of the roof to the edge. Night coming on, he went down to shovel the snow away from the side of the house so he could get about, when all at once a mountain of snow fell upon him and buried him beneath it. Having rained during the day, the snow was very heavy, and he was held against the house as if in a vise. He had two great St. Bernard dogs, his only companions for the winter. When they saw his awful predicament they went to him and pawed and scratched away at the snow, but all they could do was to get his head clear so he could breathe.

Finding that it would be impossible to extricate their master, they started off through the deep snow for the valley, five miles distant to the home of a brother of the snowbound man. When they reached the brother's house they jumped against the door and barked, their tongues hanging out from exhaustion, the result of their terrible race down the mountains and through the deep snow. When the door was opened the dogs were recognized as the brother's dogs, and were bid to enter, thinking the brother was coming, and they had just run ahead of him. They would not enter the house, . but immediately started towards the mountain, barking and looking back to see if the brother was coming. It was all so sudden he thought a moment and made up his mind there must be something wrong up the mountain. His brother might be on his way to the valley, and had perhaps met with an accident of some kind. He started off at once after the dogs. When they saw him following them they ran back and jumped about him and did all manner of things to show how glad they were for his coming to the rescue of their master, and when they came near enough for the imprisoned man to hear them they began barking as loud as they could to let him know they would soon be with him. They reached the frozen man just in time to save his life.

When the snowbound man recovered his strength and speech, he told his experience while being held against the wall; how the dogs pawed and scratched at the snow to get it away from his head, and how careful they were not to scratch him. Xo human being could have worked more faithfully to extricate him. The man knew when they started off for his brother that they were going after assistance.

VI. Queeds

A grand old dog was Queeds,

He of the Alpine heights.

His life was full of deeds

As his memory was of sights.

His years were spent for man

In search for the travellers lost, And always in the van,

Xo matter what the cost.

He climbed to mountain peaks And crawled into chasms dark,

With never a thought of rest to seek Until victory crowned his bark.

In no other country in the world have dogs won such everlasting fame as the St. Bernard dogs of Switzerland. A large number of this species are educated to carry food, l ^wng drink and blankets to lost travellers on the snowcapped mountains and gorges. When tourists go on excursions to the mountains and do not return at the time set for their coming back, dogs are sent on their trail and hunt as intelligently for them as human beings can, and they reach places where men could not go. The manner in which they carry food and blankets is described m another chapter,

The following story was told by a gentleman who, with his guide, owe their lives to the heroic action of Queeds, whose picture and name head this chapter. The gentleman, with his guide, started on a Monday morning to explore one of the mountains that make up the group which lie like sleeping giants about the great Mont Blanc. After climbing steep places and going from crag to crag till nearly three o'clock in the afternoon, often making very poor headway, they reached a ledge overlooking a deep chasm. Stepping to the edge, which looked like solid rock covered with snow, they stepped too far, and both went down. But falling on snow they were not hurt. Gathering themselves together, they looked about to see how they could get back to the place from which they fell. There seemed nothing but perpendicular walls, and how could they extricate themselves and keep from starvation and death ? Perish they must, unless someone came and heard their voices and saw them down in the chasm. Hour after hour passed and night was hovering near, with no prospect of relief and only food enough to last for the day and a possibility of snowdrifts sweeping down upon them during the night. The situation was anything but cheerful. They yelled at the top of their voices until exhausted. When night settled over the dark vaultlike place they were almost in despair. However, the night passed and when the first glimpse of light appeared their spirits rose. They felt that in some way their not returning from the point from which they started a search would be made for them. This was done early in the morning by a guide and the dog Queeds. The little barrel with drink to warm the men, if found, was fastened to Queeds 7 neck, and soon they were on their way. Knowing the direction they took, it was not difficult to get on their trail, and before noon Queeds had reached the spot where they fell, in advance of the guide. Looking down, he saw the men, and immediately began a furious bark, making the gorge echo with sounds of his voice. This gave the men heart. They knew their awful position would become known and relief be given. The guide heard Queeds' bark, and in a short time arrived at the place and with a rope pulled the unfortunate men up.

VII. Faithful Ned

Faithful Ned, the serious, as true as a granite rock. He was born in the Mohawk Valley and came of purest

stock.

His carriage was that of a monarch with a head like the

head of a sage.

He was greatest among the great and would have been so

in any age.

Faithful Ned had a master who met with a terrible accident when eight years old. He was run over by an electric tram and lost his right leg. He ran around a corner, reaching the middle of the track, just in front of an approaching car. The car was so near that it could not be stopped in time to avert the accident. The boy's name was Ferry Morton. He had been warned to stop at corners before crossing, to see if there was a car near. When the misfortune occurred, Ned was with Ferry and barked at the car when he saw his young master running into danger, but Ferry did not heed Ned's barking or perhaps did not realize what it meant. Ferry's misfortune com-

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pelled him to stay in the house for many months, and when the stump of his leg healed enough so he could leave his bed, crutches were procured for him, and in a little while he could get along as well as others who have only one leg. When Ferry went out Xed never left him. If Ferry accidentally dropped a crutch, Xed would pick it up and hold it as high as he could so Ferry would not have to stoop to grasp it. Sometimes Ferry would be near a car when Xed would growl and bark at the car in a way to show how he hated it, because one had run down his master and maimed him for life. If Ferry was going in the direction of a car, Xed would get in front of him and stand like a wall to keep him from going on. Xed was a large dog. Often Ferry would rest his right hand upon his back and removing his crutch lean his weight on Xed for support. This always pleased Xed. He would wag his tail and blink his eyes most joyfully.

This sad affliction that befell Ferry should be a lesson to all boys. They should look ahead always, and be sure there are no cars coming when crossing a street. More accidents and sorrow have come to mankind through carelessness than anything else in human experience. The word think should be. imbedded deep in the minds of every boy and girl. It would save them from endless troubles.

Ned was a dog who thought. Many of his acts prove it. One day Ferry was walking along a country road and saw a. beetle lying on its back and trying to get on its feet. Ned saw it first, stopped and began barking to arrest Ferry's attention. He moved the beetle with his paw first to one side, then to the other, until he got the beetle on his feet. Ferry then took it and carried it to a field by the roadside where it would be out of danger of being crushed by horses' feet, or run over by the wheels of vehicles. What could be finer in dog nature or human nature than this act? It was a great kindness to a living creature placed on the earth for some purpose. If the beetle could have spoken it would have thanked Ned for being so good.

Ned was a St. Bernard, black, white and yellow. He had a black spot on white on his left side, the shape of a four-leaf clover, and one on his back, the shape of an oak leaf; the middle of his tail was white to the extent of six inches. At a distance his tail looked as if disconnected, giving him a very odd appearance. He was a dog of much dignity, and his movements were those of a creature of high character. He was never known to go about with his head down and tail between his legs, like dogs of a mongrel type and common breed.

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VIII. Pathetic Story Of A Shepherd Dog

The story of a faithful dog that will live longer than

bronze or stone.

He saved the life of a shepherd lad at the sacrifice of his

own.

A young shepherd-boy, fourteen years of age, was in the habit of taking his master's sheep to graze, and returning with them in the evening. The boy accompanied by his dog went out during all kinds of weather. The last time he went out with the flock, a heavy frost lay upon the earth and snow was falling, and the boy and his charge did not return in the evenin°f. His master thought that the young shepherd lad had taken shelter with his flock somewhere, and wonld return the next day. The snow continued to fall and the boy did not return. Search was made and after a long walk over hill and vale, they came upon the flock. The hoy was lying under a hedge almost frozen to death. The dog was moaning piteously and licking and warming his face and hands most frantically, and the sheep had gathered in ~a corner and were looking on in utter amazement. It is said that when the searching party arrived, the shepherd dog was almost frantic with ]oj. It barked, it leaped and capered round the lad with a joy that only dogs are capable of showing. The poor boy was carried home, where it was found that his feet were so badly frost-bitten, that they had to be amputated. When the men started for home with the boy, the dog rallied the sheep and started with them for its master's home, and when they were safely inside of the sheepfold, he was so exhausted from the strain he had passed through and the anxiety over the sheep-tender, that fell at the very entrance to the fold, and died in the performance of his duty.