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Title: A Dog's Tale

Author: Mark Twain

Release date: June 1, 2004 [eBook #3174]
                Most recently updated: January 8, 2021

Language: English

Credits: Produced by David Widger


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A DOG'S TALE ***




Produced by David Widger




A DOG'S TALE

by Mark Twain




CHAPTER I

My father was a St. Bernard, my mother was a collie, but I am a
Presbyterian.  This is what my mother told me, I do not know these nice
distinctions myself.  To me they are only fine large words meaning
nothing.  My mother had a fondness for such; she liked to say them, and
see other dogs look surprised and envious, as wondering how she got so
much education.  But, indeed, it was not real education; it was only
show: she got the words by listening in the dining-room and drawing-room
when there was company, and by going with the children to Sunday-school
and listening there; and whenever she heard a large word she said it over
to herself many times, and so was able to keep it until there was a
dogmatic gathering in the neighborhood, then she would get it off, and
surprise and distress them all, from pocket-pup to mastiff, which
rewarded her for all her trouble.  If there was a stranger he was nearly
sure to be suspicious, and when he got his breath again he would ask her
what it meant.  And she always told him.  He was never expecting this but
thought he would catch her; so when she told him, he was the one that
looked ashamed, whereas he had thought it was going to be she.  The
others were always waiting for this, and glad of it and proud of her, for
they knew what was going to happen, because they had had experience.
When she told the meaning of a big word they were all so taken up with
admiration that it never occurred to any dog to doubt if it was the right
one; and that was natural, because, for one thing, she answered up so
promptly that it seemed like a dictionary speaking, and for another
thing, where could they find out whether it was right or not? for she was
the only cultivated dog there was.  By and by, when I was older, she
brought home the word Unintellectual, one time, and worked it pretty hard
all the week at different gatherings, making much unhappiness and
despondency; and it was at this time that I noticed that during that week
she was asked for the meaning at eight different assemblages, and flashed
out a fresh definition every time, which showed me that she had more
presence of mind than culture, though I said nothing, of course.  She had
one word which she always kept on hand, and ready, like a life-preserver,
a kind of emergency word to strap on when she was likely to get washed
overboard in a sudden way--that was the word Synonymous.  When she
happened to fetch out a long word which had had its day weeks before and
its prepared meanings gone to her dump-pile, if there was a stranger
there of course it knocked him groggy for a couple of minutes, then he
would come to, and by that time she would be away down wind on another
tack, and not expecting anything; so when he'd hail and ask her to cash
in, I (the only dog on the inside of her game) could see her canvas
flicker a moment--but only just a moment--then it would belly out taut
and full, and she would say, as calm as a summer's day, “It's synonymous
with supererogation,” or some godless long reptile of a word like that,
and go placidly about and skim away on the next tack, perfectly
comfortable, you know, and leave that stranger looking profane and
embarrassed, and the initiated slatting the floor with their tails in
unison and their faces transfigured with a holy joy.

And it was the same with phrases.  She would drag home a whole phrase, if
it had a grand sound, and play it six nights and two matinees, and
explain it a new way every time--which she had to, for all she cared for
was the phrase; she wasn't interested in what it meant, and knew those
dogs hadn't wit enough to catch her, anyway.  Yes, she was a daisy!  She
got so she wasn't afraid of anything, she had such confidence in the
ignorance of those creatures.  She even brought anecdotes that she had
heard the family and the dinner-guests laugh and shout over; and as a
rule she got the nub of one chestnut hitched onto another chestnut,
where, of course, it didn't fit and hadn't any point; and when she
delivered the nub she fell over and rolled on the floor and laughed and
barked in the most insane way, while I could see that she was wondering
to herself why it didn't seem as funny as it did when she first heard it.
But no harm was done; the others rolled and barked too, privately ashamed
of themselves for not seeing the point, and never suspecting that the
fault was not with them and there wasn't any to see.

You can see by these things that she was of a rather vain and frivolous
character; still, she had virtues, and enough to make up, I think.  She
had a kind heart and gentle ways, and never harbored resentments for
injuries done her, but put them easily out of her mind and forgot them;
and she taught her children her kindly way, and from her we learned also
to be brave and prompt in time of danger, and not to run away, but face
the peril that threatened friend or stranger, and help him the best we
could without stopping to think what the cost might be to us.  And she
taught us not by words only, but by example, and that is the best way and
the surest and the most lasting.  Why, the brave things she did, the
splendid things! she was just a soldier; and so modest about it--well,
you couldn't help admiring her, and you couldn't help imitating her; not
even a King Charles spaniel could remain entirely despicable in her
society.  So, as you see, there was more to her than her education.




CHAPTER II

When I was well grown, at last, I was sold and taken away, and I never
saw her again.  She was broken-hearted, and so was I, and we cried; but
she comforted me as well as she could, and said we were sent into this
world for a wise and good purpose, and must do our duties without
repining, take our life as we might find it, live it for the best good of
others, and never mind about the results; they were not our affair.  She
said men who did like this would have a noble and beautiful reward by and
by in another world, and although we animals would not go there, to do
well and right without reward would give to our brief lives a worthiness
and dignity which in itself would be a reward.  She had gathered these
things from time to time when she had gone to the Sunday-school with the
children, and had laid them up in her memory more carefully than she had
done with those other words and phrases; and she had studied them deeply,
for her good and ours.  One may see by this that she had a wise and
thoughtful head, for all there was so much lightness and vanity in it.

So we said our farewells, and looked our last upon each other through our
tears; and the last thing she said--keeping it for the last to make me
remember it the better, I think--was, “In memory of me, when there is a
time of danger to another do not think of yourself, think of your mother,
and do as she would do.”

Do you think I could forget that?  No.




CHAPTER III

It was such a charming home!--my new one; a fine great house, with
pictures, and delicate decorations, and rich furniture, and no gloom
anywhere, but all the wilderness of dainty colors lit up with flooding
sunshine; and the spacious grounds around it, and the great garden--oh,
greensward, and noble trees, and flowers, no end!  And I was the same as
a member of the family; and they loved me, and petted me, and did not
give me a new name, but called me by my old one that was dear to me
because my mother had given it me--Aileen Mavourneen.  She got it out of
a song; and the Grays knew that song, and said it was a beautiful name.

Mrs. Gray was thirty, and so sweet and so lovely, you cannot imagine it;
and Sadie was ten, and just like her mother, just a darling slender
little copy of her, with auburn tails down her back, and short frocks;
and the baby was a year old, and plump and dimpled, and fond of me, and
never could get enough of hauling on my tail, and hugging me, and
laughing out its innocent happiness; and Mr. Gray was thirty-eight, and
tall and slender and handsome, a little bald in front, alert, quick in
his movements, business-like, prompt, decided, unsentimental, and with
that kind of trim-chiseled face that just seems to glint and sparkle with
frosty intellectuality!  He was a renowned scientist.  I do not know what
the word means, but my mother would know how to use it and get effects.
She would know how to depress a rat-terrier with it and make a lap-dog
look sorry he came.  But that is not the best one; the best one was
Laboratory.  My mother could organize a Trust on that one that would skin
the tax-collars off the whole herd.  The laboratory was not a book, or a
picture, or a place to wash your hands in, as the college president's dog
said--no, that is the lavatory; the laboratory is quite different, and is
filled with jars, and bottles, and electrics, and wires, and strange
machines; and every week other scientists came there and sat in the
place, and used the machines, and discussed, and made what they called
experiments and discoveries; and often I came, too, and stood around and
listened, and tried to learn, for the sake of my mother, and in loving
memory of her, although it was a pain to me, as realizing what she was
losing out of her life and I gaining nothing at all; for try as I might,
I was never able to make anything out of it at all.

Other times I lay on the floor in the mistress's work-room and slept, she
gently using me for a foot-stool, knowing it pleased me, for it was a
caress; other times I spent an hour in the nursery, and got well tousled
and made happy; other times I watched by the crib there, when the baby
was asleep and the nurse out for a few minutes on the baby's affairs;
other times I romped and raced through the grounds and the garden with
Sadie till we were tired out, then slumbered on the grass in the shade of
a tree while she read her book; other times I went visiting among the
neighbor dogs--for there were some most pleasant ones not far away, and
one very handsome and courteous and graceful one, a curly-haired Irish
setter by the name of Robin Adair, who was a Presbyterian like me, and
belonged to the Scotch minister.

The servants in our house were all kind to me and were fond of me, and
so, as you see, mine was a pleasant life.  There could not be a happier
dog that I was, nor a gratefuller one.  I will say this for myself, for
it is only the truth:  I tried in all ways to do well and right, and
honor my mother's memory and her teachings, and earn the happiness that
had come to me, as best I could.

By and by came my little puppy, and then my cup was full, my happiness
was perfect.  It was the dearest little waddling thing, and so smooth and
soft and velvety, and had such cunning little awkward paws, and such
affectionate eyes, and such a sweet and innocent face; and it made me so
proud to see how the children and their mother adored it, and fondled it,
and exclaimed over every little wonderful thing it did.  It did seem to
me that life was just too lovely to--

Then came the winter.  One day I was standing a watch in the nursery.
That is to say, I was asleep on the bed.  The baby was asleep in the
crib, which was alongside the bed, on the side next the fireplace.  It
was the kind of crib that has a lofty tent over it made of gauzy stuff
that you can see through.  The nurse was out, and we two sleepers were
alone.  A spark from the wood-fire was shot out, and it lit on the slope
of the tent.  I suppose a quiet interval followed, then a scream from the
baby awoke me, and there was that tent flaming up toward the ceiling!
Before I could think, I sprang to the floor in my fright, and in a second
was half-way to the door; but in the next half-second my mother's
farewell was sounding in my ears, and I was back on the bed again.
I reached my head through the flames and dragged the baby out by the
waist-band, and tugged it along, and we fell to the floor together in a
cloud of smoke; I snatched a new hold, and dragged the screaming little
creature along and out at the door and around the bend of the hall, and
was still tugging away, all excited and happy and proud, when the
master's voice shouted:

“Begone you cursed beast!” and I jumped to save myself; but he was
furiously quick, and chased me up, striking furiously at me with his
cane, I dodging this way and that, in terror, and at last a strong blow
fell upon my left foreleg, which made me shriek and fall, for the moment,
helpless; the cane went up for another blow, but never descended, for the
nurse's voice rang wildly out, “The nursery's on fire!” and the master
rushed away in that direction, and my other bones were saved.

The pain was cruel, but, no matter, I must not lose any time; he might
come back at any moment; so I limped on three legs to the other end of
the hall, where there was a dark little stairway leading up into a garret
where old boxes and such things were kept, as I had heard say, and where
people seldom went.  I managed to climb up there, then I searched my way
through the dark among the piles of things, and hid in the secretest
place I could find.  It was foolish to be afraid there, yet still I was;
so afraid that I held in and hardly even whimpered, though it would have
been such a comfort to whimper, because that eases the pain, you know.
But I could lick my leg, and that did some good.

For half an hour there was a commotion downstairs, and shoutings, and
rushing footsteps, and then there was quiet again.  Quiet for some
minutes, and that was grateful to my spirit, for then my fears began to
go down; and fears are worse than pains--oh, much worse.  Then came a
sound that froze me.  They were calling me--calling me by name--hunting
for me!

It was muffled by distance, but that could not take the terror out of it,
and it was the most dreadful sound to me that I had ever heard.  It went
all about, everywhere, down there:  along the halls, through all the
rooms, in both stories, and in the basement and the cellar; then outside,
and farther and farther away--then back, and all about the house again,
and I thought it would never, never stop.  But at last it did, hours and
hours after the vague twilight of the garret had long ago been blotted
out by black darkness.

Then in that blessed stillness my terrors fell little by little away, and
I was at peace and slept.  It was a good rest I had, but I woke before
the twilight had come again.  I was feeling fairly comfortable, and I
could think out a plan now.  I made a very good one; which was, to creep
down, all the way down the back stairs, and hide behind the cellar door,
and slip out and escape when the iceman came at dawn, while he was inside
filling the refrigerator; then I would hide all day, and start on my
journey when night came; my journey to--well, anywhere where they would
not know me and betray me to the master.  I was feeling almost cheerful
now; then suddenly I thought:  Why, what would life be without my puppy!

That was despair.  There was no plan for me; I saw that; I must stay where
I was; stay, and wait, and take what might come--it was not my affair;
that was what life is--my mother had said it.  Then--well, then the
calling began again!  All my sorrows came back.  I said to myself, the
master will never forgive.  I did not know what I had done to make him so
bitter and so unforgiving, yet I judged it was something a dog could not
understand, but which was clear to a man and dreadful.

They called and called--days and nights, it seemed to me.  So long that
the hunger and thirst near drove me mad, and I recognized that I was
getting very weak.  When you are this way you sleep a great deal, and I
did.  Once I woke in an awful fright--it seemed to me that the calling
was right there in the garret!  And so it was:  it was Sadie's voice, and
she was crying; my name was falling from her lips all broken, poor thing,
and I could not believe my ears for the joy of it when I heard her say:

“Come back to us--oh, come back to us, and forgive--it is all so sad
without our--”

I broke in with SUCH a grateful little yelp, and the next moment Sadie
was plunging and stumbling through the darkness and the lumber and
shouting for the family to hear, “She's found, she's found!”

 The days that followed--well, they were wonderful.  The mother and Sadie
and the servants--why, they just seemed to worship me.  They couldn't
seem to make me a bed that was fine enough; and as for food, they
couldn't be satisfied with anything but game and delicacies that were out
of season; and every day the friends and neighbors flocked in to hear
about my heroism--that was the name they called it by, and it means
agriculture.  I remember my mother pulling it on a kennel once, and
explaining it in that way, but didn't say what agriculture was, except
that it was synonymous with intramural incandescence; and a dozen times a
day Mrs. Gray and Sadie would tell the tale to new-comers, and say I
risked my life to say the baby's, and both of us had burns to prove it,
and then the company would pass me around and pet me and exclaim about
me, and you could see the pride in the eyes of Sadie and her mother; and
when the people wanted to know what made me limp, they looked ashamed and
changed the subject, and sometimes when people hunted them this way and
that way with questions about it, it looked to me as if they were going
to cry.

And this was not all the glory; no, the master's friends came, a whole
twenty of the most distinguished people, and had me in the laboratory,
and discussed me as if I was a kind of discovery; and some of them said
it was wonderful in a dumb beast, the finest exhibition of instinct they
could call to mind; but the master said, with vehemence, “It's far above
instinct; it's REASON, and many a man, privileged to be saved and go with
you and me to a better world by right of its possession, has less of it
that this poor silly quadruped that's foreordained to perish;” and then
he laughed, and said:  “Why, look at me--I'm a sarcasm! bless you, with
all my grand intelligence, the only thing I inferred was that the dog had
gone mad and was destroying the child, whereas but for the beast's
intelligence--it's REASON, I tell you!--the child would have perished!”

They disputed and disputed, and I was the very center of subject of it
all, and I wished my mother could know that this grand honor had come to
me; it would have made her proud.

Then they discussed optics, as they called it, and whether a certain
injury to the brain would produce blindness or not, but they could not
agree about it, and said they must test it by experiment by and by; and
next they discussed plants, and that interested me, because in the summer
Sadie and I had planted seeds--I helped her dig the holes, you know--and
after days and days a little shrub or a flower came up there, and it was
a wonder how that could happen; but it did, and I wished I could talk--I
would have told those people about it and shown then how much I knew, and
been all alive with the subject; but I didn't care for the optics; it was
dull, and when they came back to it again it bored me, and I went to
sleep.

Pretty soon it was spring, and sunny and pleasant and lovely, and the
sweet mother and the children patted me and the puppy good-by, and went
away on a journey and a visit to their kin, and the master wasn't any
company for us, but we played together and had good times, and the
servants were kind and friendly, so we got along quite happily and
counted the days and waited for the family.

And one day those men came again, and said, now for the test, and they
took the puppy to the laboratory, and I limped three-leggedly along, too,
feeling proud, for any attention shown to the puppy was a pleasure to me,
of course.  They discussed and experimented, and then suddenly the puppy
shrieked, and they set him on the floor, and he went staggering around,
with his head all bloody, and the master clapped his hands and shouted:

“There, I've won--confess it!  He's as blind as a bat!”

And they all said:

“It's so--you've proved your theory, and suffering humanity owes you a
great debt from henceforth,” and they crowded around him, and wrung his
hand cordially and thankfully, and praised him.

But I hardly saw or heard these things, for I ran at once to my little
darling, and snuggled close to it where it lay, and licked the blood, and
it put its head against mine, whimpering softly, and I knew in my heart
it was a comfort to it in its pain and trouble to feel its mother's
touch, though it could not see me.  Then it dropped down, presently, and
its little velvet nose rested upon the floor, and it was still, and did
not move any more.

Soon the master stopped discussing a moment, and rang in the footman, and
said, “Bury it in the far corner of the garden,” and then went on with
the discussion, and I trotted after the footman, very happy and grateful,
for I knew the puppy was out of its pain now, because it was asleep.  We
went far down the garden to the farthest end, where the children and the
nurse and the puppy and I used to play in the summer in the shade of a
great elm, and there the footman dug a hole, and I saw he was going to
plant the puppy, and I was glad, because it would grow and come up a fine
handsome dog, like Robin Adair, and be a beautiful surprise for the
family when they came home; so I tried to help him dig, but my lame leg
was no good, being stiff, you know, and you have to have two, or it is no
use.  When the footman had finished and covered little Robin up, he
patted my head, and there were tears in his eyes, and he said:  “Poor
little doggie, you saved HIS child!”

I have watched two whole weeks, and he doesn't come up!  This last week a
fright has been stealing upon me.  I think there is something terrible
about this.  I do not know what it is, but the fear makes me sick, and I
cannot eat, though the servants bring me the best of food; and they pet
me so, and even come in the night, and cry, and say, “Poor doggie--do
give it up and come home; don't break our hearts!” and all this terrifies
me the more, and makes me sure something has happened.  And I am so weak;
since yesterday I cannot stand on my feet anymore.  And within this hour
the servants, looking toward the sun where it was sinking out of sight
and the night chill coming on, said things I could not understand, but
they carried something cold to my heart.

“Those poor creatures!  They do not suspect.  They will come home in the
morning, and eagerly ask for the little doggie that did the brave deed,
and who of us will be strong enough to say the truth to them:  'The
humble little friend is gone where go the beasts that perish.'”





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