Some one rushed by, and went right through the flame,
    Straight as a dart—­caught the child—­and then came
    Back with him, choking and crying, but—­saved! 
    Saved safe and sound! 
                         Oh, how the men raved,
    Shouted, and cried, and hurrahed!  Then they all
    Rushed at the work again, lest the back wall
    Where I was lying, away from the fire,
    Should fall in and bury me. 
                               Oh! you’d admire
    To see Robin now:  he’s as bright as a dime,
    Deep in some mischief, too, most of the time. 
    Tom, it was, saved him.  Now, isn’t it true
    Tom’s the best fellow that ever you knew? 
    There’s Robin now!  See, he’s strong as a log! 
    And there comes Tom, too—­
                               Yes, Tom was our dog.

CONSTANCE FENIMORE WOOLSON.

* * * * *

WILLIAM OF ORANGE SAVED BY HIS DOG.

On the night of the 11th and 12th of September, 1572, a chosen band of six hundred Spaniards made an attack within the lines of the Dutch army.  The sentinels were cut down, the whole army surprised and for a moment powerless.  The Prince of Orange and his guards were in profound sleep; “but a small spaniel dog,” says Mr. Motley, “who always passed the night upon his bed, was a most faithful sentinel.  The creature sprang forward, barking furiously at the sound of hostile footsteps, and scratching his master’s face with his paws.  There was but just time for the Prince to mount a horse which was ready saddled, and to effect his escape through the darkness, before his enemies sprang into the tent.  His servants were cut down, his master of the horse and two of his secretaries, who gained their saddles a moment later, all lost their lives, and but for the little dog’s watchfulness, William of Orange, upon whose shoulders the whole weight of his country’s fortune depended, would have been led within a week to an ignominious death.  To his death, the Prince ever afterwards kept a spaniel of the same race in his bed-chamber.”

MOTLEY’S Rise of the Dutch Republic.

* * * * *

The mausoleum of William the Silent is at Delft.  It is a sort of small temple in black and white marble, loaded with ornaments and sustained by columns between which are four statues representing Liberty, Providence, Justice, and Religion.  Upon the sarcophagus lies the figure of the Prince in white marble, and at his feet the effigy of the little dog that saved his life at the siege of Malines.

DE AMICIS’ Holland.

* * * * *

THE BLOODHOUND.

    Come, Herod, my hound, from the stranger’s floor! 
    Old friend—­we must wander the world once more! 
    For no one now liveth to welcome us back;
    So, come!—­let us speed on our fated track. 
    What matter the region,—­what matter the weather,
    So you and I travel, till death, together? 
    And in death?—­why, e’en there I may still be found
    By the side of my beautiful black bloodhound.