sciousness; but the blood was flowing freely, and
he was gradually getting weaker and weaker. There were none but the
dead near him; and his only living companion was an English terrier,
which ran restlessly about him, with his master's _kepi_, or military
cap, in his mouth.

"At last the dog set off at a trot; and the wounded soldier made sure
that now his last friend had deserted him. The night grew dark, the
cold was intense, and he had not even the strength to touch his
wounds, which every instant grew more and more painful.

[Illustration: {The terrier, carrying a kepi, tries to get help for
his master}]

"At length his limbs grew cold, and, feeling a sickly faintness steal
upon him, he gave up all hope of life, and recommended himself to
the mercy of God. Suddenly he heard a bark, which he knew belonged to
only one little dog in the world, then felt something lick his face,
and saw the glare of lanterns. The dog had wandered for miles till he
arrived at a road-side _cabaret_, or country wine-shop. The people had
heard the cannonading all day, and seeing the _kepi_ in the dog's
mouth, and noticing his restless movements, decided to follow him. He
took them straight to the spot--too straight for a little cart they
had brought with them to cross fields and hedges--but just in time.
When the friendly help arrived, the man fainted; but he was saved.
There were honest tears in the man's eyes when he was telling me,"
says the narrator; "and I fully believed him. The dog, too, had been
slightly touched in the leg by a ball in the same battle, and has
since been lame. He got him, when a puppy, from an English sailor at
Dunkirk, and called him 'Beel;' very probably the French for Bill."

This little terrier showed something more than instinct--some share,
at least, of common sense. At all events, he deserves to be
immortalized; so here you have his portrait, with the cap in his
mouth, begging the people whom he has found in the way-side inn to
come to the help of his wounded master.

X.

[Illustration: THE ERL-KING.]

[Illustration: {Flowers}]

THE ERL KING.

Who rideth so late through the night-wind wild?
It is the father with his child;
He has the little one well in his arm,
He holds him safe, and he folds him warm.

"My son, why hidest thy face so shy?"
"Seest thou not, father, the Erl King nigh?
The Erlen Kin