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A few years ago a little girl, residing in an inland village in
Connecticut--without the consent of her mother, be it remembered--went
alone to a pond near by, to play with her brother's little vessel, and
fell into the water. She came very near drowning; but a dog belonging to
the family, named Rollo, who was not far off, plunged in and drew her to
the shore. She was so exhausted, however, that she could not rise, and
the dog could not lift her entirely out of the water. But he raised her
head a little above the surface, and then ran after help. He found a
man, and made use of every expedient in his power to draw him to the
spot where he had left the child. At first the stranger paid very little
attention to the dog; but by and by he was persuaded something was
wrong, and followed the dog to the pond. The little girl was not
drowned, though she was quite insensible; and the man lifted her from
the water, and saved her life, to the great joy of Rollo, who seemed
eager to assist in this enterprise.
Here is a capital story about a shepherd's dog in Scotland. I take the
liberty of borrowing it from Bingley's admirable book. The valleys, or
glens, as they are called by the natives, which intersect the Grampians,
a ridge of rocky and precipitous mountains in the northern part of
Scotland, are chiefly inhabited by shepherds. As the pastures over which
each flock is permitted to range, extend many miles in every direction,
the shepherd never has a view of his whole flock at once, except when it
is collected for the purpose of sale or shearing.
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