p from on high
on her back.

[Illustration]

XV

HEROISM OF AN IRISH HEN

A contest of rather an unusual nature took place in the house of an
innkeeper in Ireland. The parties engaged were a hen of the game species
and a rat of middle size. The hen, in a walk round a spacious room,
accompanied by an only chicken, the last one left of a large brood, was
roused to madness by an attack made by a fierce rat on her helpless
little one. The frightened cries of her beloved little chick, while it
was being dragged away by the rat, awoke all the mother-love in the
bosom of the hen. She flew at the corner whence he had taken her child,
seized him by the neck, dragged him about the room, put out one of his
eyes, and so tired him by repeated attacks of spur and bill, that in the
space of twelve minutes, during which time the conflict lasted, she
killed the rat, nimbly turned round in triumph to her frightened
nestling, and lovingly sheltered it beneath her protecting wings.

[Illustration]

XVI

THE SHEPHERD'S DOG

James Hogg, the shepherd poet, had a dog named Sirrah, who was for many
years his sole companion. He was, the shepherd says, the best dog he
ever saw, in spite of his surly manners and unattractive appearance. The
first time he saw the dog, a drover was leading him by a rope, and,
although hungry and lean, "I thought," Hogg tells us, "I saw a sort of
sullen intelligence in his face, so I gave the drover a guinea for him.
I believe there was never a guinea so well spent. He was scarcely a year
old then, and knew nothing of herding; but as soon as he found out that
it was his duty to do so, I can never forget with what eagerness he
learned. He would try every way till he found out what I wanted him to
do; and when once I made him understand a direction, he never forgot or
mistook it again."

About seven hundred lambs, which were at once under Mr. Hogg's care,
broke up at midnight, and scampered off in three divisions across the
hills, in spite of all that the shepherd and an assistant lad could do
to keep them together. "Sirrah," cried the shepherd, in great alarm, "my
man, they're awa." The night was so dark that he did not see Sirrah, but
the faithful dog had heard his master's words, and without more ado he
set off in quest of the flock. The shepherd and his companion spent
the whole of the night in scouring the hills, but of neither lambs nor
Sirrah could they obtain the slightest trace. "W