Part 7

Bayard Taylor says, “If one should surmise a lower form of spiritual being yet equally indestructible, who need take alarm?” “Yea, they have all one breath, so that a man hath no pre-eminence above a beast, for all is vanity,” said the Preacher, more than two thousand years ago. In Taylor’s poem to an old horse, Ben Equus, which died on the farm when he was a young man, he uses the same idea:

For I may dream fidelity like thine, May save some essence in thee from decay, That, not neglected by the Soul Divine, Thy being rises on some unknown way.

Some intermediate heaven, where fields are fresh, And golden stables littered deep with fern; Where fade the wrongs that horses knew in flesh, And all the joys that horses felt return.

Mrs. Charles writes:

Is all this lost in nothingness, Such gladness, love, and hope, and trust, Such busy thought our thoughts to guess, All trampled into common dust?

Or is there something yet to come From all our science all concealed, About the patient creatures dumb A secret yet to be revealed?

Writing of the death of a favourite spaniel, Southey expresses the same faith:

... Mine is no narrow creed, And he that gave thee being did not frame The mystery of life to be the sport Of merciless man. There is another world For all that live and move—a better one, Where the proud bipeds who would fain confine Infinite Goodness to the little bounds Of their own charity, may envy thee.

Mrs. Mary Somerville wrote these words at the age of eighty-nine: “If animals have no future, the existence of many is most wretched. Multitudes are starved, cruelly beaten, and loaded during life; many die under a barbarous vivisection. I can not believe that any creature was created for uncompensated misery; it would be contrary to the attributes of God’s mercy and justice. I am sincerely happy to find that I am not the only believer in the immortality of the lower animals.” Lamartine has the same thought in an address to his dog, and many other wise men have hoped that such a future was a reality.

The Rev. Henry Storrs says it is wisest to treat animals kindly, because, if we are ever to meet them again, it will be pleasanter to have them on our side.

Henry Ward Beecher many times owned his love for horses, as in his one novel, Norwood:

“I tell you,” said Hiram, turning slightly toward the doctor, “these horses are jest as near human as is good for ’em. A good horse has sense jest as much as a man has; and he’s proud, too, and he loves to be praised, and he knows when you treat him with respect. A good horse has the best p’ints of a man without his failin’s.”

“What do you think becomes of horses, Hiram, when they die?” said Rose.

“Wal, Miss Rose, it’s my opinion that there’s use for horses hereafter, and that you’ll find there’s a horse-heaven. There’s Scripture for that, too.”

“Ah!” said Rose, a little surprised at these confident assertions. “What Scripture do you mean?”

“Why, in the Book of Revelation! Don’t it give an account of a white horse, and a red horse, and black horses, and gray horses? I’ve allers s’posed that when it said Death rode on a pale horse, it must have been gray, ’cause it had mentioned white once already. In the ninth chapter, too, it says there was an army of two hundred thousand horsemen. Now, I should like to know where they got so many horses in heaven, if none of ’em that die off here go there? It’s my opinion that a good horse’s a darned sight likelier to go to heaven than a bad man!”

When we see the superiority of a noble horse to his brutal or drunken driver, it seems at least possible, and most of us have lost some pet that we would rather meet again than the majority of our acquaintances.

Helen Barron Bostwick, after “burying her pretty brown mare under the cherry tree,” inquires:

Is this the end? Do you know?

and closes her poem as follows:

Is there aught of harm believing, That, some newer form receiving, They may find a wider sphere, Live a larger life than here? That the meek, appealing eyes, Haunted by strange mysteries, Find a more extended field, To new destinies unsealed; Or, that in the ripened prime Of some far-off summer time, Ranging that unknown domain, We may find our pets again.

Sir Edwin Arnold has translated much that is touching about those who are devoted to animals. A sinful woman led out to die by stoning was pardoned by the king, because of her pity, even at that terrible crisis, for a dying dog:

Glaring upon the water out of reach, And praying succor in a silent speech, So piteous were its eyes which, when she saw, This woman from her foot her shoe did draw, Albeit death-sorrowful, and looping up The long silk of her girdle, made a cup Of the heel’s hollow, and thus let it sink Until it touched the cool, black water’s brink, So filled the embroidered shoe and gave a draught To the spent beast.

This brute beast Testifies for thee, sister! whose weak breast Death could not make ungentle. I hold rule In Allah’s stead, who is the merciful, And hope for mercy; therefore go thou free— I dare not show less pity unto thee!

We send missionaries to the East to teach those who in some respects are well fitted by their pure lives, exalted aims, and mercy toward the brute creation to instruct us. How exquisite the story of the man who would not enter heaven and leave his dog behind!

But the king answered: “O thou Wisest One, Who knowest what was, and is, and is to be, Still one more grace: this hound hath ate with me, Followed me, loved me: must I leave him now?”

“Monarch,” spake Indra, “thou art now as we— Deathless, divine—thou art become a god; Glory and power and gifts celestial, And all the joys of heaven are thine for aye. What hath a beast with these? Leave here thy hound.” Yet Yudhishthira answered: “O Most High, O thousand-eyed and wisest; can it be That one exalted should seem pitiless? Nay, let me lose such glory: for its sake I would not leave one living thing I loved.”

Then sternly Indra spake: “He is unclean, And into Swarga such shall enter not. The Krodhavasha’s hand destroys the fruits Of sacrifice, if dogs defile the fire. Bethink thee, Dharmaraj, quit now this beast; That which is seemly is not hard of heart.”

Still he replied: “’Tis written that to spurn A suppliant equals in offence to slay A twice-born; wherefore, not for Swarga’s bliss Quit I, Mahendra, this poor clinging dog. So without any hope or friend save me, So wistful, fawning for my faithfulness, So agonized to die, unless I help Who among men was called steadfast and just.”

Quoth Indra: “Nay, the altar flame is foul Where a dog passeth; angry angels sweep The ascending smoke aside, and all the fruits Of offering, and the merit of the prayer Of him whom a hound toucheth. Leave it here; He that will enter heaven must enter pure. Why didst thou quit thy brethren on the way, And Krishna, and the dear-loved Draupadi, Attaining firm and glorious, to this mount Through perfect deeds, to linger for a brute? Hath Yudhishthira vanquished self, to melt With one poor passion at the door of bliss? Stay’st thou for this, who didst not stay for them— Draupadi, Bhima?”

But the king yet spake: “’Tis known that none can hurt or help the dead. They, the delightful ones, who sank and died, Following my footsteps, could not live again Though I had turned, therefore I did not turn; But could help profit, I had turned to help. There be four sins, O Sakra, grievous sins: The first is making suppliants despair, The second is to slay a nursing wife, The third is spoiling Brahmans’ goods by force, The fourth is injuring an ancient friend. These four I deem but equal to one sin, If one, in coming forth from woe to weal, Abandon any meanest comrade then.”

Straight as he spake, brightly great Indra smiled; Vanished the hound, and in its stead stood there The Lord of Death and Justice, Dharma’s self. Sweet were the words that fell from those dread lips, Precious the lovely praise: “O thou true king, Thou that dost bring to harvest the true seed Of Pandu’s righteousness; thou that hast ruth As he before, on all which lives! O son, I tried thee in the Dwaita wood, what time They smote thy brothers, bringing water; then Thou prayed’st for Nakula’s life, tender and just, Not Bhima’s nor Arjuna’s, true to both, To Madri as to Kunti, to both queens. Hear thou my word: Because thou didst not mount This car divine, lest the poor hound be shent Who looked to thee—lo! there is none in heaven Shall sit above thee, King Bharata’s son! Enter thou now to the eternal joys, Living and in thy form. Justice and love Welcome thee, monarch; thou shalt throne with them.”

As a farmer and butter-maker I want to condense a dissertation on The Intellectual Cow, taken from the London Spectator:

The writer resents the general impression that the cow is merely a food machine, and proves that she never yet has had justice done to her mental qualities, and is entitled to more respectful consideration.

Cows certainly possess decided individuality, and in every herd will be found a master mind which leads and domineers over the rest or acts as ringleader in mischief. They soon learn their own names, and will answer to them, and seldom make mistakes as to their own stalls. They are also undoubtedly influenced by affection, and will give down milk more freely to a friend than to one who is brutal in his manner.

Moreover, they enjoy petting just as much as humans, and will greet with delight those who bring offerings of potatoes or apple-parings or bits of bread, or who will give their heads and necks the luxury of a good rub.

Charles Dudley Warner, in Being a Boy, pays a glowing tribute to the Martial Turkey:

“Perhaps it is not generally known that we get the idea of some of our best military manœuvres from the turkey. The deploying of the skirmish line in advance of an army is one of them. The drum major of our holiday militia companies is copied exactly from the turkey gobbler: he has the same splendid appearance, the same proud step, and the same martial aspect. The gobbler does not lead his forces in the field, but goes behind them, like the colonel of a regiment, so that he can see every part of the line and direct its movements. This resemblance is one of the most singular things in natural history. I like to watch the gobbler manœuvring his forces in a grasshopper field. He throws out his company of two dozen turkeys in a crescent-shaped skirmish line, the number disposed at equal distances, while he walks majestically in the rear. They advance rapidly, picking right and left, with military precision, killing the foe and disposing of the dead bodies with the same peck. Nobody has yet discovered how many grasshoppers a turkey will hold; but he is very much like a boy at a Thanksgiving dinner—he keeps on eating as long as the supplies last. The gobbler, in one of these raids, does not condescend to grab a single grasshopper—at least, not while anybody is watching him. But I suppose he makes up for it when his dignity can not be injured by having spectators of his voracity; perhaps he falls upon the grasshoppers when they are driven into a corner of the field. But he is only fattening himself for destruction; like all greedy persons, he comes to a bad end. And if the turkeys had any Sunday school, they would be taught this.”

Josh Billings, in his Animile Statistix, proved that he had been a close observer. He says in this comical medley:

“Kats are affectionate, they luv young chickens, sweet kream, and the best place in front of the fireplace.

“Dogs are faithful; they will stick to a bone after everybody haz deserted it.

“The ox knoweth hiz master’s krib, and that iz all he duz kno or care about hiz master.

“Munkeys are imitatiff, but if they kan’t imitate some deviltry they ain’t happy.

“The goose is like all other phools—alwuss seems anxious to prove it.

“Ducks are only cunning about one thing: they lay their eggs in sitch sly places that sumtimes they kan’t find them again themselfs.

“The mushrat kan foresee a hard winter and provide for it, but he kan’t keep from gittin ketched in the sylliest kind ov a trap.

“Hens know when it is a going to rain, and shelter themselfs, but they will try to hatch out a glass egg just az honest az they will one ov their own.

“The cuckcoo iz the greatest ekonemist among the birds, she lays her eggs in other birds’ nests, and lets them hatch them out at their leizure.

“Rats hav fewer friends and more enemies than anything ov the four-legged purswashun on the face ov the earth, and yet rats are az plenty now az in the palmyest days ov the Roman Empire.

“The horse alwuss gits up from the ground on his fore legs first, the kow on her hind ones, and the dog turns round 3 times before he lies down.

“The kangaroo he jumps when he walks, the coon paces when he trots, the lobster travels backwards az fast az he does forward.

“The elephant has the least, and the rabbit the most eye for their size, and a rat’s tale is just the length ov hiz boddy.”

The very latest item of interest to dog-lovers is the announcement that Bismarck has purchased a two-pound King Charles spaniel from the dog show in Boston.

My collection is now as complete as the limitations of time and the publishers will allow. As proprietor, I beg leave to announce my Literary Zoo as now open at all hours (for a moderate fee) to those interested in what we call, with conceit and possibly ignorance, the inferior orders of creation, and the dumb brutes.

THE END.

D. APPLETON & CO.’S PUBLICATIONS.

_SLEEPING FIRES._ By GEORGE GISSING, author of “In the Year of Jubilee,” “Eve’s Ransom,” etc. 16mo. Cloth, 75 cents.

In this striking story the author has treated an original motive with rare self-command and skill. His book is most interesting as a story, and remarkable as a literary performance.

_STONEPASTURES._ By ELEANOR STUART. 16mo. Cloth, 75 cents.

“This is a strong bit of good literary workmanship.... The book has the value of being a real sketch of our own mining regions, and of showing how, even in the apparently dull round of work, there is still material for a good bit of literature.”—_Philadelphia Ledger._

_COURTSHIP BY COMMAND._ By M. M. BLAKE. 16mo. Cloth, 75 cents.

“A bright, moving study of an unusually interesting period in the life of Napoleon, ... deliciously told; the characters are clearly, strongly, and very delicately modeled, and the touches of color most artistically done. ‘Courtship by Command’ is the most satisfactory Napoleon bonne-bouche we have had.”—_New York Commercial Advertiser._

_THE WATTER’S MOU’._ By BRAM STOKER. 16mo. Cloth, 75 cents.

“Here is a tale to stir the most sluggish nature.... It is like standing on the deck of a wave-tossed ship; you feel the soul of the storm go into your blood.”—_New York Home Journal._

_MASTER AND MAN._ By COUNT LEO TOLSTOY. With an Introduction by W. D. HOWELLS. 16mo. Cloth, 75 cents.

“Crowded with these characteristic touches which mark his literary work.”—_Public Opinion._

“Reveals a wonderful knowledge of the workings of the human mind, and it tells a tale that not only stirs the emotions, but gives us a better insight into our own hearts.”—_San Francisco Argonaut._

_THE ZEIT-GEIST._ By L. DOUGALL, author of “The Mermaid,” “Beggars All,” etc. 16mo. Cloth, 75 cents.

“One of the best of the short stories of the day.”—_Boston Journal._

“One of the most remarkable novels of the year.”—_New York Commercial Advertiser._

“Powerful in conception, treatment, and influence.”—_Boston Globe._

_THE ONE WHO LOOKED ON._ By F. F. MONTRÉSOR, author of “Into the Highways and Hedges.” 16mo. Cloth, special binding, $1.25.

“The story runs on as smoothly as a brook through lowlands; it excites your interest at the beginning and keeps it to the end.”—_New York Herald._

“An exquisite story.... No person sensitive to the influence of what makes for the true, the lovely, and the strong in human friendship and the real in life’s work can read this book without being benefited by it.”—_Buffalo Commercial._

“The book has universal interest and very unusual merit.... Aside from its subtle poetic charm, the book is a noble example of the power of keen observation.”—_Boston Herald._

_CORRUPTION._ By PERCY WHITE, author of “Mr. Bailey-Martin,” etc. 12mo. Cloth, $1.25.

“There is intrigue enough in it for those who love a story of the ordinary kind, and the political part is perhaps more attractive in its sparkle and variety of incident than the real thing itself.”—_London Daily News._

“A drama of biting intensity, a tragedy of inflexible purpose and relentless result.”—_Pall Mall Gazette._

_A HARD WOMAN._ A Story in Scenes. By VIOLET HUNT. 12mo. Cloth, $1.25.

“An extremely clever work. Miss Hunt probably writes dialogue better than any of our young novelists.... Not only are her conversations wonderfully vivacious and sustained, but she contrives to assign to each of her characters a distinct mode of speech, so that the reader easily identifies them, and can follow the conversations without the slightest difficulty.”—_London Athenæum._

“One of the best writers of dialogue of our immediate day. The conversations in this book will enhance her already secure reputation.”—_London Daily Chronicle._

_AN IMAGINATIVE MAN._ By ROBERT S. HICHENS, author of “The Green Carnation,” etc. 12mo. Cloth, $1.25.

“One of the brightest books of the year.”—_Boston Budget._

“Altogether delightful, fascinating, unusual.”—_Cleveland Amusement Gazette._

“A study in character.... Just as entertaining as though it were the conventional story of love and marriage. The clever hand of the author of ‘The Green Carnation’ is easily detected in the caustic wit and pointed epigram.”—_Jeannette L. Gilder, in the New York World._

TWO REMARKABLE AMERICAN NOVELS.

_THE RED BADGE OF COURAGE. An Episode of the American Civil War._ By STEPHEN CRANE. 12mo. Cloth, $1.00.

“Mr. Stephen Crane is a great artist, with something new to say, and consequently with a new way of saying it.... In ‘The Red Badge of Courage’ Mr. Crane has surely contrived a masterpiece.... He has painted a picture that challenges comparison with the most vivid scenes of Tolstoy’s ‘La Guerre et la Paix’ or of Zola’s ‘La Débácle.’”—_London New Review._

“In its whole range of literature we can call to mind nothing so searching in its analysis, so manifestly impressed with the stamp of truth, as ‘The Red Badge of Courage.’... A remarkable study of the average mind under stress of battle.... We repeat, a really fine achievement.”—_London Daily Chronicle._

“Not merely a remarkable book: it is a revelation.... One feels that, with perhaps one or two exceptions, all previous descriptions of modern warfare have been the merest abstractions.”—_St. James Gazette._

“Holds one irrevocably. There is no possibility of resistance when once you are in its grip, from the first of the march of the troops to the closing scenes.... Mr. Crane, we repeat, has written a remarkable book. His insight and his power of realization amount to genius.”—_Pall Mall Gazette._

_IN DEFIANCE OF THE KING. A Romance of the American Revolution._ By CHAUNCEY C. HOTCHKISS. 12mo. Paper, 50 cents; cloth, $1.00.

“The whole story is so completely absorbing that you will sit far into the night to finish it. You lay it aside with the feeling that you have seen a gloriously true picture of the Revolution.”—_Boston Herald._

“The story is a strong one—a thrilling one. It causes the true American to flush with excitement, to devour chapter after chapter until the eyes smart; and it fairly smokes with patriotism.”—_N. Y. Mail and Express._

“The heart beats quickly, and we feel ourselves taking part in the scenes described.... Altogether the book is an addition to American literature.”—_Chicago Evening Post._

“One of the most readable novels of the year.... As a love romance it is charming, while it is filled with thrilling adventure and deeds of patriotic daring.”—_Boston Advertiser._

“This romance seems to come the nearest to a satisfactory treatment in fiction of the Revolutionary period that we have yet had.”—_Buffalo Courier._

“A clean, wholesome story, full of romance and interesting adventure.... Holds the interest alike by the thread of the story and by the incidents.... A remarkably well-balanced and absorbing novel.”—_Milwaukee Journal._

GILBERT PARKER’S BEST BOOKS.

_THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY._ Being the Memoirs of Captain ROBERT MORAY, sometime an Officer in the Virginia Regiment, and afterward of Amherst’s Regiment. 12mo. Cloth, illustrated, $1.50.

For the time of his story Mr. Parker has chosen the most absorbing period of the romantic eighteenth-century history of Quebec. The curtain rises soon after General Braddock’s defeat in Virginia, and the hero, a prisoner in Quebec, curiously entangled in the intrigues of La Pompadour, becomes a part of a strange history, full of adventure and the stress of peril, which culminates only after Wolfe’s victory over Montcalm. The material offered by the life and history of old Quebec has never been utilized for the purposes of fiction with the command of plot and incident, the mastery of local color, and the splendid realization of dramatic situations shown in this distinguished and moving romance. The illustrations preserve the atmosphere of the text, for they present the famous buildings, gates, and battle-grounds as they appeared at the time of the hero’s imprisonment in Quebec.

_THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD._ A Novel. l2mo. Paper, 50 cents; cloth, $1.00.

“Mr. Parker here adds to a reputation already wide, and anew demonstrates his power of pictorial portrayal and of strong dramatic situation and climax.”—_Philadelphia Bulletin._

“The tale holds the reader’s interest from first to last, for it is full of fire and spirit, abounding in incident, and marked by good character-drawing.”—_Pittsburg Times._

_THE TRESPASSER._ 12mo. Paper, 50 cents; cloth, $1.00.

“Interest, pith, force, and charm—Mr. Parker’s new story possesses all these qualities.... Almost bare of synthetical decoration, his paragraphs are stirring because they are real. We read at times—as we have read the great masters of romance—breathlessly.”—_The Critic._

“Gilbert Parker writes a strong novel, but thus far this is his masterpiece.... It is one of the great novels of the year.”—_Boston Advertiser._

_THE TRANSLATION OF A SAVAGE._ 16mo. Flexible cloth, 75 cents.