vērsation, had seized the brånch of a tree, and, raising himself by his hands, had reached a position from which he was able to perceive the cause of his favorite's dişăster. "He'll be drowned if he is not unfastened. Who knows where the key of the boat-house is kept?" "I'll run and fetch it," cried the good-natured man; "it's at the receiving-house, I believe." "Quick; or it will be no use!" said Lewis, in the greatest excitement.

7. The man hŭrried off, but the crowd round the spot had now become so dense-even carriages filled with fashionably dressed ladies having stopped to witness the catastrophe 1-that it was no easy matter for him to make his way through it; and several minutes elapsed without witnessing his retûrn. In the meantime, the poor dog's struggles were becoming fainter and fainter; his whining had changed to something between a hōarse bark and a howl-a sound so clearly indicative of suffering as to be most distressing to the bystanders; and it was evident, that, if some effort were not speedily made for his relief, he must sink.

8. "He shall not perish unassisted!" exclaimed Lewis, impetuously-"Who will lend me a knife?" Several were immediately offered him, from which he selected one with a broad blade. "May I inquire how you propose to prevent the catastrophe?" asked, superciliously, the mustäched gentleman to whom we have before alluded. "You shall see, directly," returned Lewis, dĭvěsting himself of his cōat, waistcoat, and něckcloth. “I presume you are aware there is not one man in a hundred who could swim that distance in his clothes," resumed the speaker, in the same sneering tone; "do you actually-I merely ask as a matter of curiosity-do you reälly consider it worth while to peril your life for that of a dog?”

9. "For such a noble animal as that—yes!” replied Lewis, sternly. "I might not take the trouble for a mere puppy;" and he pronounced the last two words with a marked emphasis, which rendered his meaning unmistakable. The person he addressed colored with anger, and slightly raised his cane-but he read that in Lewis's face which caused him to relinquish his

1 Ca tǎs' tro phe, a final event, usually of a disastrous nature.

2 Su' per cil'i oŭs ly, proudly; haughtily; overbeâringly.

intention; and, smiling scornfully, he folded his arms and remained to observe the event.

10. Having completed his preparations, Lewis placed the knife between his teeth, and, motioning to the crowd to stand aside, gave a short run, dashed through the shallow water, and then, breasting the stream gallantly, swam, with powerful strokes, toward the still struggling animal. As he perceived his måster approaching, the poor dog ceased howling; and, seemingly re-animated by the prospect of assistance, redoubled his efforts to keep himself afloat. In order to avoid the stroke of his paws, Lewis swam round him, and, supporting himself by resting one hand upon the buoy, he gråsped the knife with the other, and at one stroke severed the string.

11. The effect was instantly perceptible: freed from the restraint which had till now paralyzed 1 his efforts, the dog at once rose higher in the water; and, even in that extremity, his affection for his måster overpowering his instinct of self-preservation, he swam tōward him with the child's boat (of which, throughout the whole scene, he had never loosened his hold) in his mouth. Merely waiting to assure himself that the animal had yet strength enough remaining to enable him to regain the shōre, Lewis set him the example by quitting the buoy, and striking out lustily for the bank.

12. But now the weight of his clothes, thoroughly saturated as they had become, began to tell upon him; and his strokes became weaker, while his breath came short and thick. Faust, on the contrary, freed from the string which had entangled him, proceeded merrily, and reached the shōre ere Lewis had performed hälf the distance. Depositing the bōat in triumph at the feet of one of the bystanders, the generous animal only stopped to shake the water from his ears, and then, plunging in again, swam to meet his måster.

13. It was perhaps fortunate that he did so; for Lewis's strength was rapidly deserting him, his clothes appearing to drag him down like leaden weights. Availing himself of the dog's assistance, he placed one arm across its back, and, still paddling with the other, he was partly dragged and partly swam forward till his feet touched ground, when, letting the animal

1 Păr'a lýzed, made powerless.

go free, he waded through the shallow water and reached the bank, exhausted indeed, but in safety.

14. Rejecting the many friendly offers of assistance with which he was instantly overwhelmed, he wrung the water from his dripping hair, stamped it out of his boots, and hastily resuming his coat and waistcoat, was about to quit a spot where he was the observed of all observers, when Lord Bellefield, after exchanging a few words with his companions, made a sign to attract Lewis's attention. Having succeeded in so doing, he said,

"That is a fine dog of yours, sir; will you take a twenty-pound note for him?"

15. Lewis's countenance, pale from exhaustion, flushed with anger at these words; pausing a moment, however, êre he replied, he answered, coldly, "Had he been for sale, sir, I should scârcely have risked drowning in order to save him. I value my life at more than twenty pounds." Then, tûrning on his heel, he whistled Faust to follow him, and walked away at a rapid pace in the direction of Hyde Park Corner.

A

III.

25. THE KENTUCKIAN'S DOG.

KENTUCKIAN sportsman had a favorite stag-hound, strong, and of first-rate qualities, named Bravo, which he, on one occasion, when going on a hunting-expedition, left at home, taking in his stead, on trial, a fine-looking hound which had been presented to him a few days befōre. Having gone a certain length into the woodland in quest of game, he fired at a powerful stag,1 which he brought down åfter a considerable run, and believed to be dead.

2. The animal, however, was only stunned by the shot. He was no sooner touched with the keen edge of the knife, than he rose with a sudden bound, "threw me from his body," says says the hunter, "and hûrled my knife from my hand. I at once saw my danger, but it was too late. With one bound he was upon me, wounding and almost disabling me with his sharp horns and feet. I seized him by his wide-spread antlers, and sought to regain possession of my knife, but in vain; each new struggle drew us further from it.

3. "My horse, frightened at the unusual scene, had madly flec to the top of an adjoining ridge, where he stood looking down upon the combat,3 trembling and quivering in every limb. My dog had not come up, and his bay 4 I could not now hear. The struggles of the furious animal had now become dreadful, and every moment I could feel his sharp hoofs cutting deep into 3 Com'bat, a struggle to resist, conquer, or destroy; a small battle. 4 Bay, bark.

1 Stǎg, the male red deer.

2 Ant'ler, a start or branch of a horn of an animal of the deer family, as of the moose or stag.

5

5 Hoofs (hofs).

my flesh; my gråsp upon his antlers was growing less and less firm, and yet I relinquished not my hold.

4. "The struggle had brought us near a deep ditch, washed 1 by autumn rains, and into this I endeavored to force my adversary; but my strength was unequal to the effort: when we approached to the věry brink, he leaped over the drain. I relinquished my hold, and rolled in, hoping thus to escape him; but he returned to the attack, and throwing himself upon me, inflicted numerous severe cuts upon my face and breast befōre I could again seize him.

5. “

Locking my arms around his antlers, I drew his head close to my breast, and was thus, by great effort, enabled to prevent his doing me any serious injury. But I felt that this could not låst long; every muscle and fiber of my frame was called into action, and human nature could not long bear up under such exertion. Faltering a silent prayer to Heaven, I prepared to meet my fate.

6. "At this moment of despair 2 I heard the faint bayings of the hound; the stag, too, heard the sound, and springing from the ditch, drew me with him. His efforts were now redoubled, and I could scarcely cling to him. Yet that welcome sound came nearer and nearer! Oh, how wildly beat my heart as I saw the hound emerges from the ravïne, and spring forward with a short, quick bark, as his eye rested on his game!

7. "I released my hold of the stag, which tûrned upon the new enemy. Exhausted,5 and unable to rise, I still cheered the dog, that, dastard -like, fled before the infuriated animal, which, seemingly despising such an enemy, again threw himself upon me. Again did I succeed in throwing my arms around his antlers, but not until he had inflicted several deep and dangerous wounds upon my head and face, cutting to the věry bone. 8. "Blinded by the flowing blood, exhausted and despâiring, I cursed the coward dog, which stood near, baying furiously, yět refusing to seize his game. Oh, how I wished for Bravo!

1

1 Washed (wŎsht).

2 Despair (de spâr'), loss of hope. Emerge (e měrj'), come forth from; rise out of and appear.

4 Ravine (ra vēn'), a deep and narrow hollow, usually worn by water.

5 Exhausted (egz hast'ed), deprived wholly of strength; fatigued. 6 Dǎs'tard, one who meanly shrinks from danger; a great coward. 'Wound (wond), a hurt; an injury; damage.