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and stronger, and more like the wild dog, than our shepherd's dog is.
This kind of dog, this “breed” as it is called, is found in the Northern and Southern parts of Europe, and throughout America. There, indeed, no other breed exists, except those which have been taken there from other countries.
This dog is not handsome, and has a very sad, troubled, half wild look; but he is, perhaps, the cleverest of all dogs. He will take charge of a flock of four hundred, or five hundred sheep, will lead them great distances for pasture, and will keep off wolves, though they are much larger than him. self, and are very savage and cruel.
The dog I wish to tell you about was called Trim. This is the account of him given by his shepherd :
One day in a very hot summer, my sheep were all lying resting in the shade of the wood, and Trim was lying down appearing to be asleep-but this was pretence, for Trim never slept while the sheep were in the field—when suddenly I saw a wolf coming from that
side of the wood near to which Trim lay.
I called in a low voice to him, but he never stirred; I repeated my cry a little louder; he raised his head, looked towards the other side of the wood, and then fixed his eyes hard upon me.
I understood him. “My good boy,” said I,- for I often called him my boy,
—“I know what you mean ; you are “ telling me that there are two wolves, " and that the one nearest you is not " the most to be feared. My good Trim, “ manage the whole matter as you like! " I shall be quite still.”
Trim got up quietly, walked about a little bit, and came away from the wolf towards me. He passed me and I lost sight of him; but soon I saw Rusto, Trim's young helper, come forward.
Rusto had been right away in the distance keeping a look out, and he came running towards the wolf which I had seen, and attacked it fiercely. In a few moments, a larger wolf came from the side to which Trim had run, after Rusto had left it, and this large wolf flew at the sheep.
All at once, Trim appeared from under some brushwood, fastened himself upon the large wolf, who did not expect him, half strangled him, and held him down till I came up with my knife and finished the fight. Then Trim rushed off to help young Rusto, who was still struggling with the other enemy.
Now think of the sense, the judgment, and the courage, of this dog!
He would not waste his power upon the small wolf, and leave the large one to do mischief to the sheep; but he went off and sent the younger dog, who, he knew, was strong enough to struggle for a while with the smaller wolf, but would have been killed if he had attempted to attack the big one.
I hope you never go to see what are called dancing dogs. Dogs were never intended to dance or walk on two legs. It gives them a great deal of pain to do it, and before they can be taught to perform the tricks which please children so much, they must go through a great deal of suffering.
THE WINTER FIRE. Tom JACKSON's father was a wood-cutter, who lived on the border of the great forest, about a mile from our village. He had a snug cottage rent free, but he had several little children, and he had to work hard to find bread for so many mouths.
One winter's night, when the snow was lying deep on the ground, Tom sat with his father and mother by the side of the blazing fire. The squire was very kind to the wood-cutter, and gave him free leave to cut a small stack of wood for himself every winter.
But the winter had been long and sharp, so that when January came, and the snow was still on the ground, almost all the stack of wood was used up. Tom had three or four brothers and sisters, who, as their parents were too poor to give them much supper, were very glad, after a cold run home from school, to crowd round the fire and get warm before bed-time.
They were very lucky on this night, as their mother had been paid a shilling for some work, and had brought them home a large loaf of bread for supper. They each had a good slice, and were sitting quietly by the fire, when Snap, their little terrier dog, jumped up and ran barking to the door.
It was a cold dreary night, and some one was knocking at the door for shelter. Tom's father at once opened the door, and saw outside, a tall, roughlooking man, who begged for an hour's rest and shelter till the storm had blown over. The children looked on in silence, except Tom's younger brother, who at once cried out, “He can't hare any of the loaf, can he, mother ?”
“Oh yes," said Tom, "he shall; he