16.- Poor Prin! PART I. bärġe, a boat for carrying goods. eon-so-lā'tion, that which comforts and consoles. es-pě'cial (-pěsh'al), particular. 1. PRIN was a dog which I had when I was a girl of about eleven. I loved him,-O how I loved him! He was a spaniel, but small. I could carry him in my arms long after he was a puppy. 2. Prin was my grandfather's gift to me, and one of the dearest little dogs that any child ever had for pet and playfellow. A clever dog, too, as well as I can remember; but what I remember most is his goodness and affectionateness. He was good with everybody, but especially good with me. He never deserved punishment, and he never got it. He never got anything but love in all his life, his happy little life. That is my consolation now. 3. Prin was almost the only companion I had. We were a quiet family, mother and I being often left alone for days together while father went off with the barge. Father was captain of one of those barges which trade on the River Medway, and we lived in a village on the river-side. 4. I never went anywhere without Prin except to school and to church,- and even there he always trot ted with me part of the way, and then trotted respectably home again. Very often he came to meet me at dinner-time-he knew the hour quite well! He knew my father's hour of coming home, and generally went to meet him, too, a little way down the lane. He was a most polite little dog, and never omitted to go up and make his bow-that is, wag his tail-to every member of the family, whether they noticed him or not. 5. My father was never unkind to Prin; but he was a busy man, who did not care much for dogs or children. My mother, too-she did not trouble herself much about Prin, — never talked to him or petted him. It was only I who loved him, and O how I loved him! While he was a puppy he almost lived in my arms, and when he grew up he was beside me all day long, and slept at night on my bed. 6. "There goes Jane with her dog at her heels," the family used to say, "Jane and Prin,"-" Prin and Jane," the two names seemed to run together, naturally, as we did ourselves. 7. Among the boys of the village were two rough fellows, the sons of the butcher. These boys were my especial terror. They hunted the cats, teased the children, and were particularly cruel to the dogs. I once saw the biggest of them hold up a wretched half-starved cur by the tail till it howled with pain, and the impression of the sight never left my mind. 8. Ever afterward, when I saw one of these boys in the distance, I used to snatch up my Prin, and hide him under my pinafore. I think he himself almost understood the reason why, for he would cuddle up to me and lie quite still, till the enemy had gone by. Perhaps some other dog, who had been ill-used by those brutal boys, had warned him against them. 9. Well, as I said, Prin had grown up, and I was a girl of eleven; but we were still happy together,as happy as the day was long. One unlucky night my father, coming in tired and hot, happened to stumble over Prin, who was lying asleep on the door-mat. 10. "What's that good-for-nothing brute doing there?" said he. "As if I hadn't mouths enough to fill, let alone a dog's! and we shall be fined for him, too; for it's getting near the dog-days, and we haven't paid the tax. Missis," he always called my mother "Missis," "can not you get rid of him somehow before Cleaver finds him out?" "He's the child's pet, and he does nobody any harm," said my mother. "Get away, Prin!" 11. She gave him a little kick, not meaning any unkindness; but he wasn't used to it, and uttered a feeble howl. "Stop that noise, or I'll make you!" said my father, angrily. 12. I snatched up Prin. I almost smothered him in my pinafore. "No indeed, father; he does nobody any harm; and he eats very little, -not nearly so much as I do." "I should hope not! that would be too good a joke. But, little or much, he won't do it for long." I looked up in alarm. 13. "No, child, I can't pay the dog-tax; and they've grown very strict about it lately. Besides, it's a sin and a shame to have to feed a dog that eats as much as a child. Make up your mind,- Prin must go." 14. Poor father! he must have been very much vexed about something, something which I could not in the least understand, or he would not have spoken so sharply. And he turned away, not having the slightest idea, I am sure, of the effect his words had upon me. LANGUAGE EXERCISE. I. What is the opposite of "unkind (5)? of “unlucky" (9) ? What compound word (10) means worthless? When are the "dog-days" (10)? Explain "cur” (7). II. Write the adjectives from which these adverbs are made: especially naturally angrily lately Select three adjectives in the superlative degree. What nouns in Par. 2 are formed from the adjectives good and affectionate? III. Express in your own words "Prin was my grandfather's gift to me" (2); "Father turned away, not having the slightest idea, I am sure, of the effect his words had upon me (14). 17. Poor Prin! PART II. ǎg'o-ny, great distress. agined. | en-trēat'y, act of beseeching. Єon-çeiv'a-ble, that may be im- ma-ter'nal, like a mother. shud'dered, troubled with fear. 1. FATHER was no better next morning; he seemed to have "got up on the wrong side of the bed," as people say; and when I anxiously asked about poor Prin -for I had lain awake half the night thinking about him he gave me a sharp answer. 2. "No, Jane." I knew he was very cross, or he would not have called me Jane, but Jennie. "I can't keep a dog, and I won't. Missis, when Cleaver comes round, tell him we can't afford to pay the tax, and don't mean to." 3. "And what's to happen then?" asked my mother; for I was dumb with fear. "O, I suppose he'll take the dog and make away with him, give him to his boys, perhaps." 4. I shuddered; for Cleaver was the butcher, whose sons were the cruel lads whom all the village was afraid of. "O father, please, father!" I began, running after him in an agony of entreaty. But my mother called me back. "Father's got quite enough to bother him without you. Can't you see that he's best let alone?" |