last
disappeared in a cave, the mouth of which was almost upon a level with
the torrent. The shepherd with difficulty followed; but, on entering
the cave, what were his emotions when he beheld his infant eating, with
much satisfaction, the cake which the dog had just brought him, while
the faithful animal stood by, eyeing his young charge with the utmost
complacence. From the situation in which the child was found, it
appears that he had wandered to the brink of the precipice, and either
fallen or scrambled down till he reached the cave, which the dread of
the torrent had afterwards prevented him from leaving. The dog, by
means of his scent, had traced him to the spot, and afterwards
prevented him from starving by giving up to him his own daily
allowance. He appears never to have quitted the child by night or day,
except when it was necessary to go for its food, and then he was always
seen running at full speed to and from the cottage.

The memory of the dog Gelert has been preserved by tradition, and
celebrated in poetry. In the neighborhood of a village at the foot of
Snowdon, a mountain in Wales, Llewellyn, son-in-law to King John, had a
residence. The king, it is said, had presented him with one of the
finest greyhounds in England, named Gelert. In the year 1205, Llewellyn
one day, on going out to hunt, called all his dogs together; but his
favorite greyhound was missing, and nowhere to be found. He blew his
horn as a signal for the chase, and still Gelert came not. Llewellyn
was much disconcerted at the heedlessness of his favorite, but at
length pursued the chase without him. For want of Gelert the sport was
limited; and, getting tired, he returned home at an early hour, when
the first object that presented itself to him at the castle gate was
Gelert, who bounded with the usual transport to meet his master, having
his lips besmeared with blood. Llewellyn gazed with surprise at the
unusual appearance of his dog.

On going into the apartment where he had left his infant son and heir
asleep, he found the bed-clothes all in confusion, the cover rent and
stained with blood. He called on his child, but no answer was made,
from which he hastily concluded that the dog must have devoured him;
and, giving vent to his rage, plunged his sword to the hilt in Gelert's
side. The noble animal fell at his feet, uttering a dying yell which
awoke the infant, who was sleeping beneath a mingled heap of the
bed-clothes, while beneat