5 Our Dumb Animals 205 (1872-1873)

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                                        I  would not enter on my list of friends,
                                          Though graced with polished manners and fine sense,
                                          Yet   wanting sensibility, the man
                                          TVho   needlessly sets foot upon a worm.-[Cowper.


Vol. 5.                                             BOSTON, JUNE, 1872.                                                                    No. 1.


    Our Dumb Animals.

              Published Monthly by the

 Am.   $ocdetg for the Prevetion of (rrztg to lninlaIĀ§,
          AT  THE  SOCIETY'S ROOMS,
 46 Washington  Street  .   .  .   .  .  Boston.

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Secretary.
   GEORGE  T. ANGELL. . . . . . . President.
   HENRY  SALTONSTALL . . . . . . Treasurer.
   FRANK  B. FAY. . . . . .   . . Secretary.
   CHARLES  A. CURRIER. . . . . . Special Agent.

               For Our Dumb Animals.
         XlfE   LITTLE   BLACK    DOG.
[Translated and abridged from the Spanish of Don ANTONIO DR
                     TRUEBA.I
            BY  LYDIA  MARIA  CHILD.
   The high road from  the valley of Mena, which
crosses the dependencies of Biscay and terminates in
the seaport town of Castro-Urdiales, traverses, just
before leaving the territory of Biscay, certain wild
solitudes known as the passes of Mount Otanez. The
descent is so steep, and the ravines which cut the
mountain are so deep, that only by means of zigzag
turns, terraces and gigantic walls, has it been possible
to make a passable road across the mountain. In one
of the most solitary spots, where the torrent which
discharges itself through the central ravine forms an
elbow  in the road, stands a wooden cross, in com-
memoration  of a  bloody tragedy enacted in  that
awful solitude some twelve or fourteen years ago.
  Miguel, a light-hearted laborer from the province
of Guipuzcoa, went there one spring morning  and
selected an elevated spot in a thicket of strawberry
trees to put up a cabin for his accommodation. The
next day, he went into the neighboring forest to cut
down  trees, which he had  agreed to convert into
charcoal for an iron-foundry in Otanez, a village at
the foot of the mountain, from which it takes its name.
He was  a merry, good-natured fellow, and when he
was  alone at his work  he enlivened his solitude
with perpetual songs; whenever  travellers passed
that way, he was always ready with his affable salu-


tations and cheerful talk; and he never failed to
address some gallant, brave words to the baker-girls
who, on Sundays  and Thursdays, traversed the road
on their way to Castro-Urdiales to sell the bread and
cakes with which their panniers were loaded. Among
these was a very handsome  girl named Augustina.
Twice  a week she traversed the mountain road, in the
morning, seated on a vigorous mule and followed by
a lively little black dog; and in the latter part of the
same  day she returned by  the same route to her
dwelling in the parish of Sopuerta. On these occa-
sions, a few words of friendly chat passed between her
and  Miguel, while the dog ate the bits of johnny-
cake which the good-natured charcoal-maker always
had ready for him.  The little animal, frisky as a
squirrel, always ran on ahead to salute his friend with
capers and caresses, and repeated the same gambols
on his departure.
   One  Sunday  afternoon, Miguel was very sound
asleep in his cabin, having been busy all the preced-
ing night hauling out and extinguishing the charred
wood.   While he was thus taking his rest, two French
tinkers, with a horse, arrived at the elbow of the
road and  stopped under  an overhanging grove of
alders, which furnished a refreshing shelter from the
sunshine. The   situation commanded  a  view  of
Miguel's cabin, and of all the curves of the mountain
road, as it went winding along toward the valley, some-
fimes by the current of a rushing brook, and some-
times among  dark  clumps of chestnut trees, till it
reached the first houses in the village of Otanez. The
tinkers took the panniers from their horse and turned
him out to graze in a small bit of pasture, while they
ate their luncheon by  the roadside. While  they
made  these preparations, one said to the  other,
 When  we passed here, the other day, the charcoal-
burners were busy up there; but nobody seems to be
stirring to-day. Where  can  they  be ?   It is
Sunday, you  know, replied the other;  and they
have doubtless gone to Otanez to change their clothes
and get some wine  to wash the charcoal dust from
their thoats. Let us clean out the dust of the road
from our throats with a rasher of bacon and draughts
of claret. They laid hold of their provisions eagerly,
passed the bottles to and fro, and soon became merry.
 I wonder  whether  the charcoal-burners can be
sleeping up there in the cabin? said one. We
can soon find out, rejoined the other; and placing
his hands before his mouth to form a tube, he cried
 A-hoo-oo-oo, imitating the prolonged howl with
which  laborers of the district were accustomed to
summon   each other to their dinner, consisting of
indian-cakes baked on a fire shovel, scraps of dried


beef and a  pot of beans cooked with bacon.  The
summons   was repeated without  meeting with any
response.   Don't tire yourself making that noise,
said his comrade.  The charcoal-burners have doubt-
less gone to Otanez.  Then it is a good chance to
demand   toll of those that pass the little bridge,
replied the other.   Only the trouble is, nobody
passes, rejoined his comrade.  Whist I  exclaimed
the other. It seems to me I hear somebody coming.
They  listened, and heard, coming up from below, the
tinkling bells of a mule, accompanied by the voice of
a woman, singing. They  rose up to look out, and saw
coming toward the bridge a young woman,  mounted
on a handsome  mule and  followed by a little black
dog.  It is a baker-girl, said one of the Frenchmen.
 They always come  back from Castro with three or
four dollars, which is more than we can make in as
many  days by mending old kettles.  This one is a
proud chit,.they say, observed the other.  So much
the  better, was the brief reply.  The mule is a
superb beast, remarked his comrade.  Very suitable
for a fellow of my weight, was the evil reponse.  A
handsome  woman, money  and  a fine mule la triple
job! exclaimed the other, gleefully. They continued
talking, but spoke in a low tone as the baker-girl was
coming within hearing of their voices.
  When   Augustina  passed the cabin, she, as usual,
called out,  Miguel I but receiving no answer, she
proceeded on her way.  The little black dog ran u
to the cabin, went in, and gambolled round Miguel,
who  was still sleeping; but receiving no attention,
and hearing the bells of the mule receding, he soon
ran after his mistress. When Augustina crossed the
bridge, she perceived the tinkers seated on a stone by
the roadside. Her face flushed, as if with a presenti.
ment of danger, and she halted for an instant. But
they had seen her, and it seemed impossible to evade
them;  she therefore made a great effoit to control
her fears, and as she drew near to them she said, with
apparent  calmness,  Good  afternoon, gentlemen.
 Oho I you're a nice girl, said one of the tinkers,
approaching her leisurely. Where are you from?
From   Castro, she replied. I suppose you know
there is toll to pay at the bridge, said he.  What
bridge? she asked. ,The one you have just passed,
rejoined he. Frightened by his manner, she inquired,
with a trembling voice,  How much must I  pay ? 
 All the money you have, replied the brutal fellow;
and he rushed  upon the poor  girl, while the other
seized the bridle of her mule. 'Jesus, help me! she
cried, as he seized her in his arms and carried her to
the thicket of alders by the roadside. She struggled
in vain with his herculean strength. The little dog


       S.-
1591,11

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