The flesh of the deer, and the good broth that I was able to obtain from it, greatly assisted in restoring our sick to health; but long before that severe winter terminated we were again out of food.  Mrs. —–­ had given to Katie, in the fall, a very pretty little pig, which she had named Spot.  The animal was a great favorite with Jacob and the children, and he always received his food from their hands at the door, and followed them all over the place like a dog.  We had a noble hound called Hector, between whom and the pet pig there existed the most tender friendship.  Spot always shared with Hector the hollow log which served him for a kennel, and we often laughed to see Hector lead Spot round the clearing by his ear.  After bearing the want of animal food until our souls sickened at the bad potatoes and grown flour bread, we began—­that is the elders of the family—­to cast very hungry eyes upon Spot; but no one liked to propose having him killed.  At last Jacob spoke his mind upon the subject.

“Oi’ve heard, zur, that the Jews never eat pork; but we Christians dooz, and are right glad ov the chance.  Now, zur, oi’ve been thinking that ’tis no manner ov use our keeping that beast Spot.  If he wor a zow, now, there might be zome zenze in the thing; and we all feel weak for a morzel of meat.  S’poze I kill him?  He won’t make a bad piece of pork.”

Moodie seconded the move; and, in spite of the tears and prayers of Katie, her uncouth pet was sacrificed to the general wants of the family; but there were two members of the house who disdained to eat a morsel of the victim; poor Katie and the dog Hector.  At the self-denial of the first I did not at all wonder, for she was a child full of sensibility and warm affections, but the attachment of the brute creature to his old playmate filled us all with surprise.  Jacob first drew our attention to the strange fact.

“That dog,” he said, as we were passing through the kitchen while he was at dinner, “do teach uz Christians a lesson how to treat our friends.  Why, zur, he’ll not eat a morzel of Spot.  Oie have tried and tempted him in all manner ov ways, and he only do zneer and turn up his nose when oie hould him a bit to taste.”  He offered the animal a rib of the fresh pork as he finished speaking, and the dog turned away with an expression of aversion, and on a repetition of the act, walked from the table.

Human affection could scarcely have surpassed the love felt by this poor animal for his playfellow.  His attachment to Spot, that could overcome the pangs of hunger—­for, like the rest of us, he was half-starved—­must have been strong indeed.

Jacob’s attachment to us, in its simplicity and fidelity, greatly resembled that of the dog; and sometimes, like the dog, he would push himself in where he was not wanted, and gratuitously give his advice, and make remarks which were not required.

Mr. K—–­, from Cork, was asking Moodie many questions about the partidges of the country; and, among other things, he wanted to know by what token you were able to discover their favourite haunts.  Before Moodie could answer this last query a voice responded, through a large crack in the boarded wall which separated us from the kitchen, “They always bides where they’s drum.”  This announcement was received with a burst of laughter that greatly disconcerted the natural philosopher in the kitchen.