CHAPTER XXIII.

_A LITTLE PEKING PUG._

Enjoyment.--Anticipation.--Regret.

He was only six months old when we first knew him, with long silky ears, and a little head covered with delicate yellow down, undeveloped puppy body, but a grand white chest, and black muzzle; he had fine long moustachios and long black eyelashes, from between which looked out engaging lustrous eyes of a singularly intelligent expression. He weighed just about three pounds at his utmost; and when he stretched himself to his greatest length, he was only a hand and a half long. But his port and his attitudes were those of a lion, or, when engaged in worrying a piece of cord dangled invitingly before him, for all the world just like those of a Chinese monster, only in miniature. In some ways he was like a kitten rather than a puppy, so graceful and gentle in his movements, with long claws, too, at the tips of his little feathery feet, and a way of purring when he was pleased. He made many little plaintive sounds, as if he were talking to himself; and sometimes it almost seemed as if he were talking to other people too, so articulate were they. His tail was his weak point--it was too long. But some people said, that as he grew older it would curl up and look shorter. We do not know if this would have been so, nor whether his body might have developed into being too long or too thin, or something. In size he was like a puppy, and his head and chest were lovely. It was very difficult to avoid treading upon him, he was so small and noiseless in his movements. So he wore three little rattles round his throat, for he was too small to wear real Peking bells. And it was extraordinary the genius the little creature had for crying out before he was hurt, and as if he had been half killed too. But no one ever saw little Shing-erh--Little Apricot, as he was called, from his colour--put out, or angry about being hurt. He was always pleased, always full of life, ready to fall off fast asleep, or spring up wide awake, without a moment's notice, and never afraid of any person or thing.

When bought of a Chinaman in the streets of Peking, he showed no distrust, but nestled at once into European arms, went home in them, and growled when strangers approached his master's door, or sprang up delighted to welcome his master himself. He was carried about in a coat pocket, or sat in an office drawer, gravely watching the writing of manifests by the hour together; or at times trotted gaily through the streets, ever and anon stopping to sniff out some to him perfectly delicious bit of nastiness. Who so delighted as little Shing-erh, when he found out he could actually run up the stairs to the dining-room? And from that moment he was always fancying it luncheon-time or dinner-time; for there was no doubt of one thing--the little sleeve-dog did enjoy being fed. He enjoyed caresses also. If he would not come when he was called, there was always one way to secure his attention, and that was to pet Wong, our other dog, a Shantung pug, about five times Shing-erh's size. Then the little one would come at once. Poor Wong! He had been used to being called 'Little Wong,' and treated accordingly, and at first he growled, and even bit the new-comer. After that he looked heartbroken for a day or two, went home by himself when taken out walking, and resisted all the little one's efforts to draw him into a game of romps, till an idea struck him, and he began to jump on to sofas and armchairs; for did he not see the little one on them made much of? Once he even jumped right up into my lap, and tried to nestle there. And he tried to bite bits of cord, or our hands. But his teeth were very different from the tender milk-teeth of the little sleeve-dog, who could not bite any one if he tried. So these advances of his had to be summarily repelled. And gradually, though somewhat sadly, Wong reconciled himself to the situation; submitted to everyone's offering the little one crumbs of delicacy, while he sat up on his hind legs unnoticed, although chin-chinning beautifully with his two front paws; submitted when the little one bit his ears, or flew at his eyes, or pulled his tail, in order to attract his attention; and even condescended to be played with occasionally.

It was a great affair taking little Shing-erh out; for he found the world so full of interest, and would look round with intelligent eyes, wagging his tail, as much as to say, "All right! but look what a delightful place I find myself in." It was impossible to be angry with him, though it made progress through the streets very slow at times. Then when one took him up and carried him as a sort of punishment--for he did dearly love to run--he would look so grave and serious, one longed to see him frolicking once more. The only way was to walk very fast; then the four little feet would go galloping along, the tiny puppy bent on showing he could run as fast as other people. He was never afraid of any dog, but quite big dogs used to run away from him, he was so lionlike in his advances; and when he went to pay a visit to any other dog, he always first drove his host into a corner with his tail between his legs. Then only would the little one make up to him, and gradually they would have a game of romps together. But just because we were so fond of him he was a great anxiety; for any Chinaman could put him up his sleeve and run away with him quite easily. And every one took a fancy to him; though not every one, like two sweet little children, asked first if they might carry him, next if they might kiss puppy-dog, and finally if they might exchange a baby-sister of the same age for him.

One day, holding him up for a child to stroke, I noticed that the little one's breath, till then always so sweet, smelt a little. It had been very cold coming up-river in the winter weather, and it was still colder going on, damp and raw; and we hardly knew how to keep ourselves warm, much less the little puppy-dog. So it seemed hard to prevent him from lying close to the stove; but possibly it was that which made him ill. Or it may have been the little bones people gave him on the steamers. Every one used to ask deferentially, "May I give the little dog this? There is no meat on it." But there was a little meat sometimes, and all the while there was poor Wong begging unnoticed. But, then, Wong was very particular what he ate--he liked some things, disliked others; while as to little Shing-erh, we never found out what he did not like to eat whilst he was well. But now we noticed he no longer cared to play. He would take a run outside for a little while, he dearly loved to forage under the dinner-table, and pick up stray crumbs; otherwise he wanted always to be nursed, making little cooing sounds of satisfaction as he curled himself up on one's lap, his little feathery head and long ears showing off to great advantage as he did so. He was learning to sit up like Wong and beg too, and even did so sometimes without anything to lean his feeble puppy back against; and he had almost learnt to give a paw when asked. We used to talk of all we were going to teach him, believing firmly that nothing was beyond our puppy's capacity. We used to think how pleasant it would be when our new house was built and the garden laid out, and the little one could run freely about in it without anxiety as to his being stolen. But from the day we arrived up-country, it became increasingly evident that something was amiss with our tiny dog. He could not eat biscuit soaked in milk, his regular food whilst in Shanghai. He refused rice, unless fish were mixed with it. He showed himself ravenous for fish. Perhaps it would have been wiser to have been guided by the little creature's preferences. But bones and meat were always very attractive to him, and they could hardly have been the best food. He did not want to run after the first few days, sitting down upon his haunches, looking very serious when set down. How the country people admired him, when we carried him about, calling him, "Little sleeve-dog," "Cat-dog," "Little lion," and asking leave to stroke him, or stroking him without leave. "He comes from Peking," they would say; and they looked at him with pride and pleasure.

At last a day came when we despaired of his life. A Chinaman said, "Let me take him, and nurse him. I think I can cure him. You see, he is a Chinese dog, and you do not understand how to treat him. I can be with him all the while." So from our great love for him we let him go in his little quilted basket, with his quilted coverlet of gay patchwork, and little red pillow made expressly for himself, because he was so fond of making a pillow of an arm or a hand.

But in an hour or two he was brought back. He had thrown in his lot with Europeans, and the little Chinese dog would not eat from the hands of strange Chinamen, nor do anything they wished. His eyes were already glazed, and he seemed already half dead when he was brought back. So because all seemed over, and as if it did not matter what we did now, we held him quite close to the stove and poured port-wine down his throat. The little glazed eyes became limpid once more, and he looked up, content to be with us. Then I sat with him on my lap, thinking still of him as dead, and only waiting for the end. But the little dog rallied so, that that night, when taken upstairs, he struggled out of his basket on to the bed, where he had always loved best to sleep. He liked to lie there, with his little black-and-tan head looking so droll on the white pillow. Put down on the floor, for fear he should fall off--for, alas! his little legs gave way under him, and he tottered once as he tried to cross the bed--he actually ran about the room, till he found the water-jug, stood up on his hind legs, and deliberately dipped his pretty head into it and drank.

Perhaps that draught injured him, for the Chinese declared cold water must be fatal to him. Anyway, after that his rallying power appeared to have abandoned him. But even then he still used to look up and listen with great intensity when he heard his master's step upon the stair, recognising that to the very last. But though he lingered on all the next day and night, and on into the next morning, he was always growing weaker, till at last he could not swallow the spoonfuls we gave him every two hours. Once or twice he had fits of barking; but as he lay quite still and barked, we hoped he was quite happy, thinking he was fighting and vanquishing some other dog rather than suffering pain. Yet after such long drawn out dying it was a relief in the end when on the twelfth day up-country we saw the little thing lie quite still and stiff; though, as we looked at the graceful little head curled round with its two silky ears, our eyes filled with tears, and we felt almost as if we had lost a child.

The little dog had been of no use, and required much looking after; yet he had endeared himself to all who knew him. His dainty ways, his bright good humour, and intense pleasure in the society of his friends perhaps accounted for this. And yet our hearts smote us as, after the little one was taken from us, and we stooped to caress poor faithful Wong with a warmth to which of late he had been unaccustomed, the honest creature sprang on to the seat beside me with extraordinary effusiveness, and began leaping about and catching at our hands with the exuberance of long-repressed affection. Next night, though provided with a beautiful kennel full of straw downstairs, Wong slept out in the cold and rain in the courtyard outside our door, as he had been used to do in the old days. We tried to pet him, and make up for our loss by being additionally kind to all other dogs we saw. But when I see the pencil I once gave Shing-erh to gnaw, with all the marks of his little teeth, or his little rattles, the aching comes again to my heart, thinking of what might have been, and how if we had known better we might perhaps have preserved the life of the pretty pet, who so implicitly trusted and relied upon us.

As the intensest feelings ever become less intense if spoken about, so that in all ages the greatest danger has been for teachers of religious faith lest they should themselves cease to feel whilst infusing faith in others, so I have sought to take the edge off my grief by writing some account of little Shing-erh, aged twelve months when he died. Anyhow, whenever we leave China behind us, there will be a tenderer feeling in our hearts whilst thinking of the blue-gowned race, because of this little creature born and bred amongst Chinamen, and yet so engaging, so fastidious in all his ways, and so entirely without any fear.

Since then Wong is dead; and Jack, our faithful friend, and constant companion during nine years of travel, a beautiful long-haired terrier from Shantung, he too lies in a little grave, though his lustrous, intelligent eyes haunt me still. Let no one lightly enter on a Chinese dog as companion; they make themselves too much beloved, become too completely members of the family. Even Nigger, the black Chow dog that my husband kept before our marriage, and whose greeting he looked forward to all the long voyage out to China--even Nigger seems like a living personality to me, and I can hardly believe I never saw him. Beloved dogs, companions of a life too solitary, because amongst an uncompanionable race, Requiescant in pace! Good-bye, Shing-erh! good-bye, Jack! Others may, but I can never look upon your like again. There must be some subtle unnoticed quality in the Chinaman to breed such dogs; and the sweet little Szechuan ponies, miniature race-horses in form, and almost human in their intelligence, are fitting companions for the dogs, and doglike in their faithful, cheerful friendliness.

_AFFAIRS OF STATE._

PRELUDE.