Charlotte Elizabeth - Kindness to Animals
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Charlotte Elizabeth >> Kindness to Animals
Dogs have been a great amusement to me ever since I was a baby; and I
never have been without one in the house when I could keep one. Ladies
and gentlemen are not often willing to let their carpets be soiled by
dogs; but the poor people, who are not troubled with carpets, make
companions of them. I am writing this book in a room with a carpet and
good furniture, but I have my two dogs with me. There is little Fiddy,
the small spaniel, at my feet, where he has lain every day for eight
years; and there is Bronti, the fine big Newfoundlander, lying, where do
you think? Why the rogue has got upon the sofa, and when I shake my head
at him, he wags his long tail, and turns up his large bright eyes to my
face, as much as to say, "Pray let me stop here; it is so comfortable."
But no, Bronti, you must walk down, my fine fellow, or some lady coming
to see me may have her gown soiled, which would not be fair. We have no
right to make our pets a plague to other people, and, perhaps, a means
of injuring them too.
That was enough for Bronti; no need of a loud, cross, or threatening
voice. He saw that I wished him to leave the sofa, and he wags his tail
as contentedly on the carpet. I can manage him with a word, almost with
a look, because he was born in the house, and has never been away from
me; but master Fiddy was a year or two old when I had him, and some
things he will do in spite of me. He will hunt a cat, kill a bird, and
growl most furiously over a bone. Bronti has the same nature, but his
love for us overcomes it all. He would live peaceably with a cat, it we
had one; he will let the chickens and pigeons perch upon him, or walk
between his feet; and last year I had half a dozen tame mice, which I
used to let out upon him, when they would nestle in his warm coat, run
races over and under him, and he would not move a limb, for fear of
hurting one. As to a bone, he will allow me to take it out of his mouth
at any time; and, what is more, he will readily give it up to Fiddy,
whose little teeth can only nibble off the meat; and when he has done
that, Bronti takes it, and munches the bone.
His mother was full grown when I had her, and she was very fierce: if
any workman came to the house, unless her master or I was by to
restrain her, she would put him in fear of his life; and would have
bitten him too, if she could have seized him. We gave her away to a
friend who would be kind to her, and keep her out of mischief; and we
brought up a puppy for ourselves, this same Bronti. Now he is more than
three years old; and though he will sometimes fight a big dog who
affronts him in the street, he never frightened anybody who came to the
house. He watches, and gives one single, deep, quiet bark, to let us
know that there is a stranger; and seeing that we are satisfied, he sits
with one ear thrown back, listening and watching. If he meets a workman
in the house, he does not even growl; only keeps him in sight, following
him about, but with such a sweet-tempered look, that the greatest
coward, if honest, could not contrive to be afraid of him. I might leave
a joint of meat under his care, if he were ever so hungry; he would not
touch it, because he is truly honest: and as to his sense, you would
hardly believe if I told you how sensible he is. When I am putting on
my boots, he comes up to me, and looks very eagerly in my face; if I say
"Yes," or, "Bronti shall go," he is just wild with joy, tearing about,
barking, and making no small riot. If I say "No," or shake my head
sorrowfully and say nothing, he steals away, lies down, and never
attempts to follow me: but he gets on a chair, and Fiddy on a table, to
see me go out at the gate; and then they both begin to cry and moan most
piteously, so that nobody can comfort them.
On Sunday morning, Bronti looks very melancholy; how he knows the day I
cannot tell. Of course, we all go to church, but he begins to be sad as
soon as we get up. Neither he, nor Fiddy would attempt to follow us
then, if the doors and gate were all set open: they seat themselves at
the window to see us go. And now I recollect one time when Bronti was as
savage as his mother. You shall hear about it.
One Sunday, when were all at church, a friend, just landed from a
voyage, came to the house. He opened the garden gate, and was walking
towards the door, when up jumped Bronti on a chair at window, barking,
growling, and behaving so violently, that he really dared not try to get
into a house where such a wild beast stood ready to seize him. So he
went off to the church, found us, and after service returned with us;
and Bronti, seeing him as a friend of the family, gave him an
affectionate welcome. Then he told us of his ferocious behaviour; and we
were very glad to find that our gentle dog knew how to protect our house
and property when it was left entirely to his care.
A book larger than this might be filled, all through, with stories about
the dog, besides what are already published; but any one of you may see
enough to delight you every day in the affectionate creature, it you
will only be patient and kind. It is too often the custom to punish a
dog when he does not do just what you like; and you may like things
quite different at different times. Now, the poor brute cannot tell
exactly what you wish; and if he is used to get a blow, or an angry
scolding, he will be so afraid of doing wrong, that what little sense
he has left will fail him, and he will be so confused as to make him do
wrong. An animal, or a boy either, living in constant fear of ill-usage
whether he deserves it or not, will get either so stupid or so careless,
as seldom to do what is required. Think a little, and you will
understand this. An angry tone and hard words agitate a dog very much.
Mr. Blaine, who wrote a book about their diseases and cures, says that
he has often known a dog, weakened by illness, to go into convulsions on
hearing another dog violently scolded. I tell you this to explain why
some dogs are hard to manage: they are frightened out of their senses;
to say nothing of the cruel pain that they are often made to suffer. I
have seen a person beat a dog one day for not following him when he
wished it, and the next day for following when he was not wanted. I have
seen a dog set at another to fight, being encouraged, and irritated, and
made savage on purpose; and soon after beaten for flying at some person,
or thing that he was not wanted to attack. No wonder if the poor
creature loses all his fine qualities under such treatment.
All that he wishes is to be allowed to love you, and follow you, and
serve you. He wants the help of your reason to keep him from doing
wrong; and he wants you to explain to him how he may please you. It has
made my heart ache, many a time, to see a poor dog obey his master's
call, coming up to him in a crouching, crawling way, trembling with
fear, and seeming to say, "Pray, pray do not hurt me! I am ready to do
what you wish, and to lay down my life for you; but you are going to
beat or to kick me, and I am a poor creature, without any one to take my
part. I _could_ bite you, I _could_ seize you by the throat, or tear the
flesh off your leg, but I will not do so. I come because you call me;
pray do not hurt me!" And I have seen the meek, obedient creature
struck, and put to cruel pain, without the smallest reason in the world.
And when I recollected the words of the Bible, "Verily there is a God
that judgeth in the earth," I have grieved the more to think what
punishment that cruel man or boy was bringing on himself.
If we call one of our dogs, even when at high play in the fields, he
instantly comes bounding up, puts his head on one side, pricks up his
ears, and looks full in our faces as if saying, "Well, here I am; what
do you want me to do?" A beating is the last thing that they would think
of. I am not now speaking of Bronti and Fiddy in particular, but all the
dogs that ever I had. The reason is, that the dog is the very fondest
creature that breathes; and any but a really ill-tempered dog may be
managed by means of this fondness; while, as I before remarked, a really
bad-tempered one should not be kept to be punished, but speedily
destroyed.
You know what a terrible thing the bite of a mad dog is. The wound may
be so small as hardly to leave a scar, and it may heal, and be
forgotten, perhaps for weeks and months; still, the deadly poison is in
the person's blood, and when it breaks out, a most fearful death
follows, after such sufferings as nobody, who has not seen them, can
have an idea of. But, perhaps, you do not know that the angry bite of a
dog, when teased or hurt, has often produced the same awful madness. I
remember a neighbour's son dying most horribly of it, who had only had
his finger wounded, as if by a pin's point, by the tooth of a little dog
which he was teasing and provoking in play. This shows us how very
dangerous it is to irritate an animal; for you never know what peril you
may run into. These things do not fall out by chance. The Lord God
orders them all; and sometimes he does very terrible things, in judgment
on those who knowingly transgress, and for an example to others. May
you, dear young readers, be loving, and merciful, and kind; and never
stand for a moment in the hateful character of oppressors, where it is
alike your duty and your happiness to help the defenceless and to
protect the weak!
[Illustration]
CHAPTER IV.
THE CAT--THE COW--THE SHEEP--THE ASS.
Poor Puss! I have not so much to say for her as for the noble dog. The
cat is more selfish, and not so trustful; neither does she often show so
much affection for us. The cat's habits are more like those of a wild
animal, than are the habits of any other of our domestic creatures. It
is hardly possible to keep her from straying about, or to teach her to
do no mischief. I have had a cat that would not steal, and a dog that
would: both proving that every rule has an exception. I often think,
when I see Puss watching for mice and birds, and choosing them rather
than meat, what a wonderful thing it is that God should have taught a
beast of prey to attach itself to man, so far as to rid him of other
creatures which, by increasing too fast, would eat up what he wants to
live upon. At the same time, I grieve to remember that this war between
us and the smaller animals, and between them and each other, comes from
our rebellion against God; and I dare not set one creature to destroy
another, any farther than is necessary for my own safety, and the
support of my family.
Still the cat is an interesting animal, beautiful, cleanly, graceful,
and often very loving. A kitten is even more engaging than a puppy. Its
fun and frolic are more diverting because of its light, active
movements. A grave old cat, sitting in the sunshine, with her eyes half
shut, and a merry little kitten, playing with her tail, bounding over
her back, and comically boxing her ears, is a sight that I cannot help
stopping to admire. But how much to be pitied is a kitten in the hands
of children too young to know, or too cruel to care what pain they may
put it to! As to setting dogs to hunt and worry cats, or tormenting them
on purpose, as some will, I do not wish to think that anybody who can
read the Bible, or hear it read, is capable of such wickedness; nor
should I like to believe that anybody born in this free country, among a
brave people, could be so mean a coward. A boy may fancy himself very
courageous, if he is able and willing to fight anybody who doubts his
being so; but if he is capable of wantonly hurting one of God's
creatures, when he gets it into his power, he is a real coward. He alone
is truly brave who fears none because he would injure none, but would
use all the strength and all the influence that he has, to protect the
weak from those who are too powerful for them.
I have seen wild cats abroad: most terrible-looking they are, and more
dangerous than many larger animals. Nobody would offer to play any
unfeeling tricks with them; a single look from their fierce, fiery eyes,
glaring from the branches of a tree, round which they twist their long
tails, would send the boldest of you scampering away. They grow larger,
and their fur becomes much richer, when in a wild state. The good
providence of God supplies them with very warm, thick coat, when they
have no longer the benefit of a corner by the fireside. Oh that we would
learn lessons of tender mercy by seeing how compassionately the Lord
cares for the meanest creature that he has made!
But about young kittens: there are two things, often done through
thoughtlessness, which are both very cruel indeed. One is to kill all
her little ones, which not only causes great distress, but severe pain
too, to the poor mother. God gives her milk to nourish the little
creatures, and if one is not left to draw it off, the animal suffers
much torment and fever from it. The other thing is one that no
kindhearted person could do, or allow to be done, after being once told
how exceedingly inhuman it is: I mean, putting the young ones to death
in the mother's sight. The agonies of a bitch, when she sees her puppies
drowned, are really a call for divine vengeance on the wretch who could
purposely be guilty of such an outrage on the tenderest feelings of
nature. The cat, though inferior to the dog in many points, is a most
loving mother, and very sagacious in protecting her young. She will
often hide them so cunningly, that nobody can reach them; and I have
seen a family astonished by the return of a cat which they had supposed
was lost, with four or five wild-looking, lean kittens behind her, all
their faces being well scratched by the sticks or other rubbish among
which they were hidden. The dog never does so: its confiding character
leads it to commit its young to its master's care, little as he
sometimes deserves such a trust.
[Illustration]
Have you a cow? People who live in cities very seldom indeed have one;
but in the country, many, who are not rich, contrive to keep one; and a
more gentle, quiet, patient animal is not to be found. Jack's mother
was a poor Irishwoman, but she had two cows, and sold their milk to
support her family. I have often met her, stepping so stately and
steadily, because she had a brim-full pail of milk balanced on her head,
and never even put up her hand to support it. Jack was very fond of his
mother; and next after his parents, brother, and sisters, he certainly
loved the cows. It was his business, when quite a little fellow, to
serve up to them the pail of hot potatoes in winter; and many a walk he
took to the green fields where they pastured in summer, to see that all
was safe and right about them. Three years after his leaving home, we
also kept a cow; and Jack insisted on having the care of it, and milking
it himself. It was quite a lesson to see how kind and thoughtful the
dumb boy was about the poor cow: and what a happy life she led under his
management might be easily known by her being always good-tempered and
fearless. Often, when standing on the lawn, feeding my chickens, I have
been surprised by finding her gently rubbing her horns against my
shoulder, and asking to be petted, as every animal will ask when
encouraged. She gave a great deal more milk than any one expected--for
kind usage is a wonderful help in making any creature thrive; and I
never shall forget the joyful looks of Jack, when, one morning, he came
jumping and skipping to me, spelling as fast as he could, "Cow baby--cow
baby." He did not know the right name for a calf, and our cow had a very
pretty one, born in the night.
Then Jack's sweet disposition showed itself farther in the care that he
took not to distress the poor creatures more than was necessary. He did
not ill-use the cow for being unwilling to leave her young one, and very
eager to return to it again; nor did he frighten or hurt the tender
little calf for crying and struggling to get to its mother. In all these
things there is opportunity for being merciful and kind: and because
Satan knows that the Lord hates cruelty, and will punish those who
afflict his helpless creatures, there he chooses these occasions to
tempt people into the wanton wickedness of offending the Most High by
the abuse of such power as he has intrusted them with. Jack knew it. I
have seen the colour rise to his face, with the effort that he made to
overcome the impatience that was provoked by the eagerness of the
animals to break through the fence which separated them; but he did
overcome it, and said with a smile, "Poor baby cow! Jack not hurt--no;
God see!" Ah, it is a happy and a blessed thing to be able to rejoice
that God sees us! Less than three years after that, Jack was called to
appear before the Lord; and I am sure the recollection of having
purposely given pain to others never disturbed the quietness of his
death-bed. He felt the blessedness of having been merciful. For my own
part, I never can see a man or boy driving cattle with sticks and goads;
torturing the poor creatures for being tired, and lame, and thirsty, and
faint; and cruelly punishing them for wishing to rest, or do drink, or
to crop the green grass; or for being confused and frightened in the
noisy, crowded streets of a city, after the quiet country places that
they were reared in; I say, I never see such things without a feeling of
horror and dread: for the Lord God will surely call to a terrible
account those who act as if there were no just, holy, and merciful
Creator, to hear the cry of his tormented creatures, and to prove before
men and angels that they did not cry to him in vain.
[Illustration]
The next animal that I shall talk to you about is the SHEEP. People call
them "silly sheep," because they are so easily frightened, and show very
little sense of judgment when running away. This is owing to their
being driven about. We seem to think it right to make every creature
afraid of us, and by that means we weaken their faculties; or, to speak
in common words, we frighten them out of their wits. In eastern
countries it is quite different. There the flocks are not driven, but
led. You will remember that beautiful description in the tenth chapter
of John, where our blessed Lord Jesus Christ compares himself to a
shepherd, and his people to sheep. It is now above eighteen hundred
years since He spoke those words; but travellers tell us that it is
exactly the same at this day. Speaking of the shepherd, our Lord says,
"The sheep hear his voice: and he calleth his own sheep by name, and
leadeth them out. And when he putteth forth his own sheep, he goeth
before them, and the sheep follow him: for they know his voice. And a
stranger will they not follow, but will flee from him: for they know not
the voice of strangers." Only fancy what a different sight it must be
from what we often witness! Instead of a poor, frightened, agitated
crowd of panting creatures, running here and there, with perhaps a man
or boy shouting after them, outspreading his arms to increase their
terror, and a rough dog jumping and barking among them, to see a
quiet-looking, happy flock walking after their shepherd, pressing
forward to get near him, and each coming readily when called by its
name. Of course, not being taught to run away from man, they are not
flurried and thrown into confusion so easily as ours are. But sheep are
always timid, weak, defenceless creatures, and therefore the Lord often
speaks of his disciples as sheep; because we are all as little able to
protest ourselves from our enemy, Satan, as a flock of sheep is to
defend itself from a wolf, or a lion; and he would have us keep close to
him for protection as the eastern sheep do to their careful shepherd.
There is nothing to prevent our sheep from being as manageable as any
others. I once had a lamb given to me, because its mother could not
nurse it; and I kept it in some nice hay in a large basket, and fed it
with warm milk from the spout of a teapot. As it gained strength, I let
it run about the house, and it was a droll sight to see the big lamb
come bouncing and scampering into a room full of company, hunting the
cat about, leaping over chairs, and playing just like a frolicsome
kitten. If I walked out, it would, like the eastern sheep, follow me. I
have taken it for miles along the public road, and never saw it appear
frightened. It was stolen and killed before it became quite a sheep; but
I have no doubt it would have continued as tame, and as bold, and as
happy. If you look into the faces of a flock of sheep, you will see a
great variety of countenances among them, and some are very intelligent.
There is a field near me, where I often go to walk; and a number of
young sheep in it have taken such a fancy to Bronti, that when he stands
still they will come almost close to him, the ram foremost, as if
wishing to play with him; but if he goes towards them, off they trot,
poor things, to the other end of the field.
Not long ago, I saw something that made me quite unhappy; and indeed it
was one reason for my writing this little book. A boy was driving a few
sheep, and he got them into a corner, on some very high ground, from
which they could not possibly get away without jumping down where they
must have broken their necks, or limbs. Then this bad boy called
another, and they both took up large stones that were lying about the
road, and threw them at the innocent sheep--or rather lambs, for they
were not full grown. I saw them hit on their heads and eyes, and nearly
mad with pain and terror. I never saw a more cruel thing: I thought
Bronti would have seized the boys, he was so angry. I could not help
thinking how awful would be the state of those boys, if they were cut
off by death in such wickedness. Alas! the agonies of one hour
hereafter, would be worse than all the tortures that could be inflicted
on God's creatures during their whole lives. But instead of an hour, it
is for ever and ever that all who go to that dreadful place of
punishment must remain. It made me very miserable to see the poor lambs
so cruelly hurt, and to think what judgment those boys were bringing on
themselves. I ran for Bronti's master, and we met the bruised, bleeding
little innocents limping along, and the inhuman boy, tired of his savage
sport, following them. We stopped him, and that gentleman spoke very
plainly to him of his sin, and God's anger. The boy looked alarmed, but
sulky; and I sadly fear he was hardening his young heart against the
Lord. Let us pray that we may be kept from hardness of heart, and made
tender to keep a conscience void of offence towards God and towards man.
It was a donkey-boy who had helped the other to throw stones at the
lambs; and this reminds me that I have something to say about the ass;
the most despised and the worst-used of all animals, and yet the one on
which the greatest honour has been put, being chosen for its humble,
gentle, patient character to assist in setting forth the wonderful
humiliation of the Redeemer, the Lord Jesus Christ, who in the greatness
of his everlasting majesty and power condescended to stoop low for our
sakes. I think you will remember at once what I mean. In the ninth
chapter of the book of Zechariah, it is written, "Rejoice greatly, O
daughter of Zion; shout, O daughter of Jerusalem: behold, thy King
cometh unto thee: he is just, and having salvation; lowly, and riding
upon an ass, and upon a colt the foal of an ass."
And you know how this was fulfilled. When our Lord Jesus was about to
enter, for the last time, into the holy city of Jerusalem, before his
enemies had laid their cruel hands on him, he sent two of the disciples,
saying unto them, Go into the village over against you, and straightway
ye shall find an ass tied, and a colt with her: loose them, and bring
them unto me. They did so; and this meek and lowly Saviour, this King of
heaven and earth, descended from the mount of Olives, and rode into
Jerusalem, not as the monarchs of this world ride, on a fiery war-horse
with proud trappings and surrounded by gleaming swords and spears. No,
the blessed Jesus chose no such pomp. He made choice of the humble,
despised ass; her trappings were the outer garments of those poor men,
fishermen and such like, who followed him; and who took them off, to
make, as it were, a saddle and saddle-cloth for their beloved Master;
while others, seeing that no more were wanted for that purpose, spread
theirs on the ground that he might ride over them. Ah, the day will come
when the King of kings and Lord of lords shall ride in vengeance over
the persons of his rebellious enemies, as he then rode in meek and
lowly state over the garments of his loving friends. And, as you would
avoid his wrath on that terrible day, provoke him not now by wanton
cruelty to the creatures which he has made. He is very, very merciful to
them, and to you. They do you no wrong; do no wrong to them.
How often have I thought of that beautiful scene on the green side of
the gently sloping mount of Olives, which rises eastward of the city of
Jerusalem, with the brook Kedron sparkling at its feet! You know the
Bible tells us, concerning the Lord Jesus Christ, that by Him God made
the world; and again, "All things were made by him, and without him was
not any thing made that was made." Yet he, the Maker of all things, took
upon him the nature of man; and so you see, for once, a poor animal
enjoyed even greater privilege and happiness than when the creatures
were first brought to Adam; and that animal was no other than the
persecuted ass! The Lord showed his tenderness in not separating the
dam from her young one: He commanded both to be brought; and the little
creature tripped so happily beside its mother, while both enjoyed the
sheltering protection of Him who made the worlds! Yes, I very often
think of this, when I see the cruelties committed on some overworked
animal, in a cart, or ridden by an unfeeling person; and the mischief,
the wicked mischief, that Satan finds for idle hands to do, in the
field, or by the way-side, where the poor ass is quietly nibbling at
such coarse weeds as neither horse, nor cow, nor sheep would touch. The
little foal too, with its innocent face, and broad forehead covered with
shaggy hair, looking as if it longed to have a game of play with you.
Can you put it to pain? Alas! it has a life of cruel labour and
suffering before it: and you should not be so inhuman as to rob it of
its very short time of freedom and repose. Some boys are cruel on
purpose. Satan leads them captive at his will; and if they continue to
do his wicked will, they must expect to be with him for ever in the
place of fire. But many are cruel from thoughtlessness only; and I hope
this little book will lead such to reflect, and to cease from what is a
great sin against God, whether they think it to be so or not.