The Portland daily press., 1873-08-16
SELECTED STORY.
Our Ugly Dog.

"0ut Of the everywhere, into here"
and, similarly, the first thing he did was to
howl to the iull extent of his capacity, which
was great. The first thing we knew of him,
he was sitting upon the door-steps, a discon-
nected fact, and filling the air with his LAM
entatlons.
The captain went out to see what manner
of dog this might be- for we well knew that
1t was neither of our own, seeing that Fluff,
the Maltese terrier, was curled up on the sofa,
and Ban, the Newfoundland. was lying on
the rug. An exclamation from the captain
summoned us to the piazza, and there, for the
first time, we saw 'our ugly dog"
There was nothing about him to indicate
the Important part he was atterward to play
in our family history. He was big dog, Oh
no breed in particular, but, rather as ~
seemed, of all races in general. Inc shape
of his head and his blunt muzzle seemed 10
indicate bulldog stripe among the many oars
sinister of his escutcheon; but then ne nad
lop-ears, with a thin, scanty fringe, which
dimly suggested spaniel. He was neither
smooth, nor shaggy, nor rough; but his coat
resembed an old door-mat, worn out IN spots,
He was short-bodied and long-legged, and
that half his tail, which malice or accident
had left him, was, like his ears, thinly tringed
with coarse long hair. As to his color. the
groundwork seemed to be dirty yelloWlsh
white, irregulary spotted with patches OF
clicked here and there with pea spots OF
dull yellow. His one eye, for he had lost the
other, was his one good point, being like
deer-hound's in color and expression. He
was thin to starvation-pont; he was dirty
and dragged and diSconsolate, to the last de-
gree which dog nature can endure; and ap-
parently he had made up his mind that all
hope was gone, and he had taken his place on
our door-steps, to sing his own despairing
dirge.
TN the name of goodness" SAID the cap
tain, "give the creature something to eat!'
OF course, something was produced; and
when the stranger had in some degree salts
fed his hunger, he testified, in every way
which a dog could, his intense thankfulness.
81 suppose we shall have this beast added
to our family menagerie, now," said l. He
doesn't belong in the village, for think am
generally acquainted with all the dogs in the
place."
''Of course, we can't keep him." said the
captain. sit would be too much to have an
other dog. dare say he'll trot of, when he
has rested little"
OF course, the ugly dog did not trot of,
and, though we declared, every day, that we
could not have him, almost equally, of course,
he became member IF the family. tfirst, he
insnuated himself into the shed, where Ban
gave him share of his own quarters; then
he modestly and humbly took up corner in
the kitchen, and then followed the little boys
into the parlor, bringing in his mouth Char
ley's gloves, which had been dropped in the
yard; and, in the course of a few days, .the
ugly dog" had established an equal right with
Ban and the cats. He was knowing creature
and could fetch and carry, as well as beg.
He was irreproachable in dog morals. and his
soul seemed to overflow with affection for
every member of the family; even for little,
arrogant, contemptuous Fluff, who barked
himself faint the first time the stranger came
into the house, and omitted no opportunity to
show his own superiority to the ugly dog, who
could have swallowed him like pill.
No one in the place knew anything about
the creature, and we guessed that he had
strayed away from travelling caravan which
had passed through the place few days before
In a week ''the ugly dog" had become IA
yorlte with all, from the master of the house
down to the cat and the three kittens, who
contracted habit of sitting upon him, lib
erty which he seemed in no wise to resent.
His very ugliness was a sort of recommended
ton. No one else had such very ugly dog
and he was so meek. and grateful, and loving
that no one not conStitutionally averse to
dogs could have resisted his advances
A few days after he came, heard that an
old friend of ours was visiting at a relations
in Galoosa, place about fourteen miles from
the little settlement of Maysvilie, where our
lot had been cast for the last few years. I
was anxious to see Mrs. st. Clair, and to
hear news of our friends in New York, but
there seemed to be difficulty in getting to
Galoosa.
One of our horses happened to be lame,
and the other. though peaceable enough in
double harness, was apt to be skittish and i'll
conducted when driven alone. 1t was quite
impossible fer the captain to leave his bust
ness at that time, and it seemed that, unless
4 L.
be given up.
Now, it was not easy to get hold of a horse
in Maysville. There were, to be sure, three
or four teams belonging to saw-mill, but
they were all deep engaged in their legti-
mate business, and, as it happened, all the
other horses in the place were either busy or
sick, l reluctantly resigned myself to staying
at home. Just then, however, our friend,
Mr.. Calvin Bruce, man somewhat given to
horses, came home from Detroit, and, hear
ing of my necessity, he at once placed at my
disposal what he called "a pair of colts.'
There was no trouble in finding driver.
At that time Dick Monroe and his sister
Diana were staying with us on visit. Dick,
at seventeen, considered that he knew all
that was to be known about horses, and
would have undertaken to drive the chariot
of the sun with as much confidence as Phae-
ton himself.
Calvin described the colts as s'gentle enough
only pretty spunky," and averred that sit
was easy enough to manage them, if a fellow
only let them have their own way" and then
Calvin made the colts the subject of a paral-
lei with the female sex, which will not re-
peat, lest | should draw down upon my head
some of those pitfalls of wrath which are al
ways ready to be uncorked for the benefit of
any one who says word on either side of the
much veXed and vexing question.
The captain demurred a little at letting
Diana and myself go off behind the colts
with no more experienced guardian than
Dick, at which distrust Of his powers Master
Dicks dignity was good deal hurt; but then
| flattered myself that too could drive lit
tie, and was very anxious to see Mrs st.
Clair, and, to be short. of course we went.
Diana and L were ready for some time before
Dick made his appearance with the horses.
Diana, at sixteen, was tall, slim, gray-eyed.
black-haired girl, very much of child in
some Chings, and very much of a woman in
othe.s. Dick was also tall and slim ard
handsome, and he and Diana were the bes- of
friends. Dick was more full of himself and
more sefconscious than his sister. He was
clever at his school-work, stood at the head
of all his classes, and expected in another
wear to 90 to college. Such being the case
of course Dick felt extremely old, and capa-
BILE of sustaining any responsibility whatever
think his feelings were rather hurt at the
Iu6d Vi tuItS III d utSSy, otuu Lie WOulu
not haye been altogether sorry to leave Diana
at home, but she and took no notice of the
young genteman's hints, and he was fain to
content himself with the thought that we
were in the country, and out West, and that
it did not so much matter.
1t struck me when Dick did finally come
that he was in a remarkable hurry TO start,
and fastened us away without leaving me
time to say those more last words which
housekeepers are so apt to bestow on their
cabinet ministers when they set out on jour
ney. Dick also demurred at our driving
around by the mill, and stopping to speak TO
the captain, with whom wished to leave q
commission about some domestic matter 1t
was not far out of the way, to be sure, but
we had been delayed already and the after
noon was getting on; and, as the GRAND was
one Of no very great Importance, gave mp
the idea, and Dick turned the horses heads
toward the Galoosa road, and drove swiftly
out of the village.
As we turned into the openings. through
which our path lay for some distance. we
passed one of the Transfers from the mill 60
ing up to the village with a load of boards.
This said teamster, commonly known as
Dutch Jake, was an exceedingly slow man,
and was n ever known. under any circumstan-