LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume VIII, Issue 1078, 11 December 1877, Page 3

LITERATURE.

COUSIN DICK. {From " Chambers's Journal..") {Continued. ) ' No doubt it was the same. I understand the sister gives music lessons, though at present she is taking a little holiday, staying at the seaside with friends. There is another advantage in these lodgings,' continued Mr Broughton, ' the house being a music warehouse, and one of the family evidently musical, I am in hopes tbey will not object to my violin practising any more than to Cauy for an inmate. What I want now is comfort, to enjoy myself after my own fashion, and opportunity of doing some little good in the world, when what seems to me the fitting occasion oilers. Five years more at the Antipodes and I might have come horns a rich man ; but 'perhaps in that time health would have been shattered by over toil, and 1 should have been less able even than now to turn into new grooves of life and resume habits of culture. As :t is, my means are ample for all 1 am likely to want. With books, and music, and Dandy, I expect to get on capitally. Besides I mean to come and sec you pretty often.' 'lndeed I hope you will,' ejaculated husband and wife together. ' If we come too often, they must turn us out —must they not, Dandy ?' said Mr Broughton, speaking to and petting his dog ; and then he added, turning to his cousin—- ' By-the-bye, I ventured to give you as a reference as to my respectability, responsibility, &c.' ' And I will give you a good character, Dick, I promise you,'replied Mrs Woodford, ' and what is more, I will recommend Dandy to Mrs < Cray's special regard. He certainly is the cleverest dog I ever saw. Look at him now, wagging his tail at mc, as if he understood every word I was saying !' 'Spoken just like the Cousin Maggie of early days,' said Mr Broughton, with a certain tremor in his voice which proved that his feelings were touched. ' Always full of sympathy and thoughtful kindness. Yet even you can hardly tell what a friend Dandy has been to me through years of lonelinesF,' 'Yes, I can, Dick,' said Mrs Woodford ; ' if I had not a pack of children to think about, I am quite sure I should want dogs or four-footed pets of some sort.' Only a fortnight has pissed, but ' Cousin Dick' seems as completely installed in his new lodgings as if he had occupied them for months. .His most cherished personal be longings were all unpacked and arranged about his rooms according to his own taste and fancy. A few well worn books which he had taken from England in his youth. still held a place of honor, though they were now Hanked by many fresher looking volumes; and an old and cherished violin rested ill one corner, and helped to give the

sitting room its inhabited look, though writing materials near the window anr newspapers lying about, contributed to tht effect. Over the mantel-piece in his bedroom h< had arranged his store of warlike weapons— ;> sword, which Richard Broughton had certainly never used, but which he valued as the gift of a dead friend ; pistols and revolver which he had looked on as protectors in many a perilous journey, and a boomeraug, brought to England as a cusiosity. Mr Broughton had finished his breakfast, and was enjoying his morning newspaper ; but he had been to the opera the night before, and the melody of an air which had delighted him still haunted his ear, and even disturbed the rhythm of the very didatic leading article he was reading. He was not much disturbed by Mrs Gray's knocking at door; she came, as she usually did every morning to receive his orders for dinner. 'You manage my dinners so nicely for me,' said Mr Broughton, in answer to some suggestion of his landlady, ' that I think 1 cannot do better than leave all arrangements to you. But sit down ; I want to thank you for taking care of my dog last night. I hope he was not troublesome to you ?' 'Not in the least,'returned Mrs Gray; when once he ascertained that you really were not in the house, ho settled down quietly, and played with the children till they went to be bed.' ' I am so glad your children ure not afraid of him,' observed Mr Broughton. ' Oh, they are too well used to a dog and to pets in general to be afraid of a gentle creature like your Dandy. In fact my difficulty is keeping them out of your rooms. Ally —you remember how Dandy took to her from the very first—Ally wanted to come in and see the dog just now. I daresay she is near the door still.' 'Oh, pray let her in,' said Mr Broughton, himself rising to open the door, ' I will not be jealous because it is my dog she wants to see —not me ;' and there was a little laugh at the idea of Dandy being such a favorite. When the room door opened, sure enough little Ally was found waiting, but not alone; her brother, a curly-headed urchin two years her junior, had old of her hand, and both were evidently in expectation of being allowed some little frolic with the dog. 'Come in, my dears-come in,' exclaimed Mr Broughton,' ' Dandy will be most happy to see you, and will show you some of his accomplishment, if you like.' Though a little shy at first with the 'strange gentleman,'whom they had been taught in a vague sort of way to reverence, and for whose comfort they were told to refrain from noise, the shyness soon wore off when they found that Dandy's master was as willing to bo their playmate as Dandy himself. For their delectation the dog went through his most admired tricks ; he jumped over a stick, he allowed of mimic shooting and acted the dead dog, he begged for a piece of bread, but could not be induced to eat it till assured it was paid for. Moreover, he howled a note in unison with one his master played on the violin, but probably without meaning to imply admiration of the latter performance. A less keen observer than a fond and widowed mother was likely to be, might, if contemplating this little scene, have felt pretty sure that fond as Richard Broughton was of his dog, it had not exhausted all his capacity of loving. By people who had never had their hearts thrill to the mystery of canine attachment he had often been ridiculed for the intensity of his affection for Dandy, and when he spoke of a ' dog's love' as being the only ideal of his life that had ever been fully realised, few persons understood him. But Mrs Gray saw at a glance that he had a natural love for children, and probably for all helpless creatures, and considering all the circumstances of her household, she thought herself most fortunate in her lodger. It is astonishing how soon pleasant habits may be formed. Before the next week had passed it became quite the custom of the children to come into Mr Broughton's rooms at least once a day, ostensibly to play with Dandy, but also they brought their toys to show Dandy's master, and chattered away, as bright, eager, fresh-hearted children are pretty sure to do with those whom, by some subtle instinct, they at once recognise as friends. Dandy's canine predecessor in the house, the much lamented Topsy, was a frequent subject of conversation. Her aceom-" plishments were described, though admitted to be fewer than Dandy's, and her dsath and burial dwelt on with some pathos. And one day little Ally came into the room hugginga fhick photographic album in her arms. She had brought it for the express purpose of shewing poor Topsy's likeness. Topsy had been photographed a number of times ; once cosily curled up on a mat; once occupying an easy chair with something of the dignity of a judge ; another time a 3 a conspicuous member of a group ; and lastly by the side of a lady who had her hand on its head. '.And who is the lady?' inquired Mr Broughton, trying to speak with a calmness he diil not quite feel. 'lt does not look like your mother.' • 0 no I Why, it is auntie!' exclaimed little Ally in a tone which implied wonder that he could for a moment have taken it for Mrs Gray. ' Then Topsy was fond of auntie, and auntie was fond of Topsy, I suppose ?' said Mr Broughton, wishing to discover all hn could about this auntie.' The little girl nodded her head by way of reply, and then she said: 'Auntie did cry so much when Topsy died. She was auntie's own doggy.' • And did you cry ?' asked Mr _ Broughton. Another nod of the head ; but the child exclaimed : 'Not so much as auntie—auntie cried till her eyes were quite red.' 'And is this portrait very like auntie?' asked Mr Broughton. ' Yes ; but she never wears such sleeves as as those now. I'll show you her new photograph ;' and the little fingers rapidly turned over leaves and found a likeness taken only the other day. Mr Broughton recognised the same sweet face, though it showed that seven or eight years had probably passed between the time the one photograph had been taken and the other. ' And what is auntie's name V inquired Mr Broughton with forced composure. ' Auntie !' said the little girl, as if the word were quite sufficient, but added a moment after, as if the thought of more information being required had just come to her, " She is Alice, and I am Alice, only ■ hey call me Ally. Auntie is so good,' the child continued, ' mother says she is the best auntie that ever lived. And 1 must try to be good too, because I have got her name.' [To be continued.)