in the hedge, where she sat, watching the movements of the cat, who, she feared, was after her little ones. As the cat crept along under the hedge, the crow followed her, flying from branch to branch, and from tree to tree; and when at last puss dared to leave her hiding place, the crow, leaving the tree, and hovering over her in the air, let the stone drop from on high on her back.
XV
HEROISM OF AN IRISH HEN
A contest of rather an unusual nature took place in the house of an innkeeper in Ireland. The parties engaged were a hen of the game species and a rat of middle size. The hen, in a walk round a spacious room, accompanied by an only chicken, the last one left of a large brood, was roused to madness by an attack made by a fierce rat on her helpless little one. The frightened cries of her beloved little chick, while it was being dragged away by the rat, awoke all the mother-love in the bosom of the hen. She flew at the corner whence he had taken her child, seized him by the neck, dragged him about the room, put out one of his eyes, and so tired him by repeated attacks of spur and bill, that in the space of twelve minutes, during which time the conflict lasted, she killed the rat, nimbly turned round in triumph to her frightened nestling, and lovingly sheltered it beneath her protecting wings.
XVI
THE SHEPHERD'S DOG
James Hogg, the shepherd poet, had a dog named Sirrah, who was for many years his sole companion. He was, the shepherd says, the best dog he ever saw, in spite of his surly manners and unattractive appearance. The first time he saw the dog, a drover was leading him by a rope, and, although hungry and lean, “I thought,” Hogg tells us, “I saw a sort of sullen intelligence in his face, so I gave the drover a guinea for him. I believe there was never a guinea so well spent. He was scarcely a year old then, and knew nothing of herding; but as soon as he found out that it was his duty to do so, I can never forget with what eagerness he learned. He would try every way till he found out what I wanted him to do; and when once I made him understand a direction, he never forgot or mistook it again.”
About seven hundred lambs, which were at once under Mr. Hogg's care, broke up at midnight, and scampered off in three divisions across the hills, in spite of all that the shepherd and an assistant lad could do to keep them together. “Sirrah,” cried the shepherd, in great alarm, “my man, they're awa.” The night was so dark that he did not see Sirrah, but the faithful dog had heard his master's words, and without more ado he set off in quest of the flock. The shepherd and his companion spent the whole of the night in scouring the hills, but of neither lambs nor Sirrah could they obtain the slightest trace. “We had nothing for it,” says the shepherd, “but to return to our master and tell him that we had lost his whole flock of lambs. On our way home, however, we came suddenly upon a body of lambs at the bottom of a deep ravine, and in front of them was sitting Sirrah, who was looking around for help. We decided that here was at least one of the divisions which Sirrah had managed to collect; but what was our astonishment when we discovered that not one of the whole flock was missing. How he had got all the divisions together in the dark is beyond my comprehension. I never felt so grateful to any creature under the sun as I did to my honest Sirrah that morning.”
XVII
TRAVELLERS
An innkeeper once sent, as a present to a friend, a dog and cat that had been companions for more than ten months. The carrier took them, tied up in a bag. A short time after the dog and cat set out together, and returned to their old home, a distance of thirteen miles. They jogged along the road side by side, and on one occasion the dog gallantly defended his fellow-traveller from the attack of another dog they met.
XVIII
FILIAL DUTY
A surgeon's mate on board a ship relates that while he was lying awake one evening, he saw a rat come into his berth, and after looking carefully about the place, go away with the greatest care and silence. Soon after it returned, leading by the ear another rat, which it left at a small distance from the hole by which they had entered. A third rat joined this kind conductor; they then foraged about, and picked up all the small scraps of biscuit; these they carried to the second rat, which seemed blind, and staid right on the spot where they had left it, nibbling such food as its faithful friends, whom the story-teller thinks were its children, brought to it from the more remote parts of the room.
XIX
A DOG SHEEP-STEALER
A shepherd, who was hung for sheep-stealing, used to commit the robberies by means of his dog. Whenever he wished to steal any sheep, he sent the dog to do the business. He would visit a flock of sheep, looking them over, as if he intended buying some. The dog was always by his side, and to him he gave a signal secretly, whenever he saw any particular sheep he wanted. Sometimes he would pick out ten or twelve from a flock of some hundreds. Dog and man then went away, and from a distance of several miles, the dog would be sent back by himself in the night time. The wise creature picked out the very sheep the man had selected, separated them from the rest of the flock, and drove them before him, often a distance of ten or twelve miles, till he came up with his master, to whom he delivered them up.
XX
A MOTHER'S AFFECTION
While a ship on a voyage of discovery to the North Pole was locked in the ice, one morning the man at the masthead reported that three bears were making their way toward the vessel. They had, no doubt, been attracted by the scent of some blubber of a sea-horse which the crew was burning on the ice at the time. They proved to be a mother bear and her two cubs; but the cubs were nearly as large as their mother. They ran eagerly to the fire, drew out the part of the flesh that remained unburned, and ate it greedily. The crew threw great lumps of the flesh upon the ice, and the old bear carried them away, one by one, laying a lump before each of her cubs, as she brought it, and thus dividing it, keeping only a small share for herself. As she was carrying off the last piece, the sailors shot both the cubs dead and wounded the mother, but not fatally. It would have touched the heart of all but the most unfeeling had they seen the affectionate concern of this poor animal in the dying moments of her young. Though terribly wounded herself, she crawled to the place where they lay, carrying a lump of flesh with her. She tore the lump in pieces, and laid it before them. When she saw that they refused to eat, she laid her paws first upon one, then upon the other, and tried to raise them up, moaning meanwhile most pitifully. Finding she could not stir them, she went off, and when she had gone some distance, looked back and moaned, and called them. As that did not seem to entice them away, she crawled back, and smelling round them, began to lick their wounds. She went off a second time a few paces, looked behind her again, and for some time stood moaning and calling. As the cubs did not rise to follow her, she returned once more, and with signs of inexpressible fondness went round them, caressing them with her paws. Finding at last that they were cold and lifeless, she raised her head toward the ship, and growled a curse upon their murderers, which they returned with a volley of musket balls. She fell between her cubs, and died licking their wounds.
XXI
A STRANGE MOUSER
A gentleman once owned a hen that was a fine mouser. She was seen constantly watching close to a corn rick, and the moment a mouse appeared, she seized it in her beak, and carried it to a meadow near by, where she would play with it like
