What a state of excitement did the unexpected arrival of old Wolfe create!
How many questions were put to the poor beast, as he lay with his head
pillowed on the knees of his loving mistress! Catharine knew it was
foolish, but she could not help talking to the dumb animal, as if he had
been conversant with her own language. Ah, old Wolfe, if your homesick
nurse could but have interpreted those expressive looks, those eloquent
waggings of your bushy tail, as it flapped upon the grass, or waved from
side to side; those gentle lickings of the hand, and mute sorrowful
glances, as though he would have said, "Dear mistress, I know all your
troubles. I know all you say, but I cannot answer you!" There is something
touching in the silent sympathy of the dog, to which only the hard-hearted
and depraved can be quite insensible. I remember once hearing of a felon,
who had shown the greatest obstinacy and callous indifference to the
appeals of his relations, and the clergyman that attended him in prison,
whose heart was softened by the sight of a little dog, that had been his
companion in his days of comparative innocence, forcing its way through the
crowd, till it gained the foot of the gallows; its mute look of anguish
and affection unlocked the fount of human feeling, and the condemned man
wept--perhaps the first tears he had shed since childhood's happy days.
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