True Stories About Dogs and Cats | Page 4

TRUE STORIES ABOUT DOGS AND CATS.
In a pretty, quiet village in New England lived Mary Chilton. She was a
widow. She had two sons; and it was the occupation and the happiness
of her life to do all she could to make her boys good and happy. I
should say to help and teach them to be good and happy; for boys and
girls must make themselves good; and then, of course, they will be
happy; and no one can be made good or happy against his will.
I hear some boy or girl who reads this say, "How old were they, and
what were their names?" No boy can get along with another boy till he
knows his name and age, and so, that you may be sure that they were

real, live boys, I will tell you these important facts. The eldest was
called Frank, and was nine years old. His brother was called Harry, and
was seven. They were very much like other boys, somewhat disposed
to have their own way in every thing, and a little vexed when they
could not do as they pleased; sometimes really wishing to do right, and
be obedient, and make their mother happy.
The little fellows were fond of saying to their mother that when they
grew bigger they should take care of her; and the idea that she
depended upon them for her happiness often made them stop and think
when they were disposed to do a wrong thing.
When Harry said to Frank, "Mother will be so sorry if we do it," Frank
would stop and think, and that was enough.
Stop and think. Grand words, and worth attending to. I believe that, if
boys and girls would only keep these words well in mind, there would
be only a small number of really naughty children.
It was a custom with this good and faithful mother to have a little talk
with her boys, every night before their bed time, of what had passed
during the day. Sometimes she told them stories, sometimes they
repeated poetry.
The hours they passed in this way were the happiest in the whole day.
Some of their twilight talks and stories Mrs. Chilton wrote down,
thinking they might amuse some little cousins, who lived at a distance.
Perhaps some other little boys and girls may like to hear them too.
One evening, early in November, when tea was over, and the tea things
were removed; when the nice hearth was swept clean, and the great
wood fire was blazing brightly, and sending forth its cheering light and
heat through the whole room, Frank and Harry had taken their
accustomed places, one on each side of their mother who was sitting on
the old-fashioned sofa. Each one appropriated a hand to himself, when
they both, almost in the same breath, said to her, "You promised us,
Mother, if we were good boys, to tell us a story this evening. Now,
have we not been good boys all day?"

"Yes, you have," she replied; "you have not quarrelled, and you have
got your lessons well; and I will gladly perform my promise. But I
hardly know whether I can remember or make up any story to tell you.
However, I will do my best. What sort of a story will you have?"
"I," said Frank, "should like a real good true story about a dog, or any
other animal."
"And I like a made-up story best," said Harry.
"I have an anecdote of a dog for you, Frank, which a friend related to
me the other day, and which I determined to remember to tell you, as I
recollected your love for dogs. The lady who told me the story is an
English woman. She was in the place where the thing happened, at the
very time, and knew the dog and his master.
An English gentleman had a small dog, I think a terrier; he took it with
him across the English Channel to Calais which, you know, is in France.
He had business there, and remained some time. One day his poor little
dog was severely treated by a French dog, much larger than himself.
The little terrier knew that he could not punish the big French dog. For
some days you might see him with his head hanging down as well as
his tail, and a most melancholy expression in his face. At last, he
disappeared. His master, who was very fond of him, made every
inquiry after him. In vain--his little four-footed friend was nowhere to
be found.
One day, not long after, in walked the terrier, bringing with him a dog
much larger than himself. He and his big friend looked very busy and
important, as if they had