Better Than Men

r and scenery all that could be desired. The amusements, or rather occupations, afforded to the sojourners, aside from reading the solid literature of the period, were neither novel nor exhausti

as possible; argue religious, political, and commercial questions with the numerous oracles of the village, and diagnose th

found them a most entertaining and sociable lot of easy-going vagabonds. The majority were much given to loafing, barking at strangers and the passing vehicles, and no

iod. If a dog was of a large size he was sure to respond to the name of Tige, Rover, or Lion, and, if small, he was usually adorned with the name of Skip, Fido, or Zip

light brindle color, with a black nose, and was blessed with a pair of beautiful, sympathetic, and expressive dark-brown eyes, that had a frank way of looking clear into the eyes of whoever addressed him. But he was without pedigree, industry, or hope, cared nothing

woman of a large city in search of opportunities on a “bargain day.” He had the keenest nose for his favorite game of any dog in the town, and so devoted was he to his particular sport, that frequently, while the season lasted, after a hard day’s work, he would go to bed with an empty stomach, his cha

subterranean abode of his favorite game, he would give a joyous bark, and commence a most vigorous digging, and, if the soil happened to be of a soft nature, he would soon bury his body so as to leave no part of his belongings in sight

capture a “chuck,” but he

arly in the morning, after the delusive whistle, he was up and off to the woods. Filled with eager expectation he tramped hills and swamps the whole day through without seeing a bird or getting a shot, and returned to the hotel much the worse for the wear and tear of the search, but, Frenchman like, was vivacious and cheerful. An Eng

y, always on the alert for an occupation, no matter if sometimes useful. Take them, however, for all in all, this worthless pack of four-footed worthies were not a bad sort of a lot. All save one were good-natured and sociable. That exception was a maltese-colored abridgment of a mastiff, 21 short-haired and old. He was the property of one of the village doctors, who was a pestiferous Whig, with the reputation of being the “tongueyist man in the county, if not in the State.” He carried chips upon both shoulders, was the proprietor of a loud voice—plenty of it—and was always ready for a war between tongues. He “argered” for the sake of argu

onsideration. The Vermont “Morgan horse” is one of the acknowledged native “institutions,” and no lover of that animal has ever made the intimate acquaintanc

roads.” Calves, among the most beautiful of all the young animals, with their great soft eyes and innocent faces, were a source of infinite joy to me, and even the silly and unintellectual sheep always appealed to my affections and sense of protection. These I regarded as wards to love and protect, but the dogs and Morgan horses were my petted friends and companions. From their habitual

for a very elevated plane of civilization. Ever since nearly a century ago, when the Morgan horse first came to them, he has been an object of their

s of the “calico” red and white sort, tall, 25 long of body, sound of legs and feet, with large, liquid, expressive eyes, small ears, and a beautiful open nostril. His pedigree was unknown, and no one in the village could say where he came from. He had been turned out lame from a “travelling show” the

We took a great fancy to each other, and both of us to Rover, who once in a while coul

them as companions for a recreative excursion whi

hree or four miles there was a halt for a dismount, a rest for the animals, and a leg exercise for the rider. Rover was always glad for a loll beneath the shady trees, but “Charlie,” my calico friend, improved his opportunities for a nibble of the tender grass and sprouts within his reach. During the first two or three days I had to retrace my steps t

ear. Upon looking back I discovered a great cloud of dust, and amidst it a confusion of moving horns and tails, while soon there appeared, racing through the excited mass of bovines at the top of his speed, Charlie, accompanied 28 by his faithful attendant barking at the top of his voice. The cattle we

ess. I tried to appease their wrath, apologized for the unseemly conduct of dog and horse, alleged sudden fright, 29 marshalled a fine array of other excuses, and finally succeeded in neutralizing the flow of their ire—just a little. But the chief spokesman was not satisfied with excuses and soft words; he was a materialist, and wanted to know, the

on’t be down till dinner.” The head “droveyer,” impatient to keep with his “drove,” would not wait, and informed 30 me, in a rather em

n, but she was too well bred to give the laugh direct, full in the face, and contented herself by making an acute mental survey of my 31 physical points. She measured with her eye the hands and girth of chest, and made a close calculation as to the amount of biceps assigned to each arm, and after some reflection, said: “You’ll find an old axe in the woodshed; you can take it and try and patch up the places, and, when you hear the horn, you can come in and eat with the rest of the folks.” I started off, filled with the pride born of knowledge,

ner proceeded, and as anecdotes succeeded each other about men, things and far-off countries I had seen, the Green Mountain ice began to melt, and, by the time the “Injun puddin’” was emptie

now you city folk could work so. Where did you l’arn to mend fences?” This first witness for the defence produced a marked effect upon the jury. The next point of observation was the field of damaged oats. The eldest son, a Sunda

o mend fences?” When I told him that 34 my name was ——, that I was a grandson of ——, was born at the “Old H. Place at the crotch of the roads in the town of P——,” learned to mend fences there, etc., etc., he had great difficulty in suppressing the dimensions of the

dgiments, and my father belonged to one from Massachusetts; both served till the end of the war, and then emigrated to Vermont, together. My father settled on this farm, where I was born in 1790; your grandfather took up some land in P——, and till the end of his days was the best schoolmaster and surveyor anywhere round these parts. He was a master-hand at poetry, and used to write sarcastical varses agin the lop-sided cusses he hated. There’s allu

the body of

nave that e’e

a hog and died

o the d——l bey

pire, who quite worthily perpetuated the detestable qualities of his defunct parent, and, when he died, as he did not many year

the body of

ice to know

Heaven, too

’s gone no o

settlers in the eastern counties were soldiers of the Revolution who had emigrated to the new State soon after its close, and they brought with them the simple, manly habits and ways of thinking which are charact

neighboring towns. The larder was 38 always well-supplied, and the barrels of cider that lined a capacious cellar were ready to respond to every call. Und

th two—and march up and down the broad kitchen of the old house, going through 39 the motions of loading, aiming and firing at an imaginary enemy, greatly to my childish delight, for those were the first fierce war’s alarms I had ever witnessed, and I can never forget how my imagination was fired; nor how ardently I wished I had been at Lexington and Bunker Hill, where “we gave it to the Red Coats.” Uncle Daniel was far too good a patriot to say anything about the return compliments, “How the Red Coats gave it to us,”

been sung by British soldiers who were in the retreat a

the hedges an

y tree a

see the s

nal Yanke

utionary camp song which depicted the grief of the s

t too far f

boys,

numerous waggings and by pawing vigorously at the legs of my trousers whenever I looked his way, and from the barn there came sounds of

ng in this part of Vermont, told mother last year that Old Jack was 1,200 feet above the sea and 42 more than five hundred above where we are standing; now, there ain’t no such steeple in Boston nor anywhere else. What do folks want such a high steeple for, anyway? And if meetin’ houses must have steeples, why won’t fifty feet do as well as five hundred? Some folks say that bells are hung up in steeples so God can hear them ring for folks to go to meetin’ Sunday mornin

nt boys that go to Boston learn to talk like him? There’s a lot gone down there from about here. Some of ’em are up on a visit every once in a while, and spend the most of their spare time in telling such silly stories. I guess they think they can stuff us country folks just like Thanksgiving turkeys. What makes ’em lie so? The boys round here, if they talked like the

dled and bridled, and brought out for inspection and admiration. His appearance elicited expressions of unbounded admiration, his great, soft, brown, and beautifully expressive eyes, h

argument, the party owning the injured crop determined to leave the amount of dama

imals; and then commenced a most exhilarating run of more than fifteen miles over a softish dirt road, through a series of lovely valleys, to the li

y of time, evenings and middle parts of days, for talking with the “folks”—oracles about the village taverns—who, like the old-time bar-room Major and Judge of the Slave States, were always on hand and on tap for a copious outpouring

oluntary heroes among the country folk. John Gilpin could not have been more fortunate in the way of attracting attention from all beholders; and “the more they gazed

e know-it-alls of the village as the advance agents of a coming circus; if not, why the calico horse? which to the rural mind, from the most remote period, has been associated with the gorgeous, gilded bandwagon, spangles, and sawdust. The fortunate s

slicking up for Sunday” and the doing of “odd chores” around the house and barn is the order of the day, the whole being a fitting prelude to the coming Sunday, which is always what it ought to be, not the Lord’s any more than anothe

y the all-pervading spirit of rest; the leaves of the trees, yielding to the universal feeling of repose, keep silence with the rest of nature, and over all there is the fascinating power of wondrous beauties abounding not made by the hands of man. Such days are made for rest and reflection, when nature invites us to commune with her works, that we may know more of them

eckonings of a wingless fairy, Nature’s ever-present handmaid, who, without our knowledge, leads us to a new Fairylan

his was very much more of a living Yankee institution than now. In those days the French menu, much to the satisfaction of those practitioners in the dental line, had not penetrated within the borders of the New England rural districts. I remember distinctly the color and taste of the native bean-

the hotel, 52 while I, being a supposed distinguished stranger, with “boughten clothes” and a fair expanse of starched shirt-front, was given the seat of honor at his right hand. I found him a regulation specim

sed as an excuse for the opening sentences, but, before the breakfast was over, a shrewd series of inoffensive di

g that day, but usually permitted original sin to take its course. That idea seemed to strike him favorably and brought out a proposition that we should take to the woods and see which could tell the biggest story, he at the same time remarking: “You have

ons. He was saturated with the teachings of Socrates, Cicero, Marcus 54 Aurelius, and Gibbon, and I suspected he had taken a sly glance or two at Lucretius

acting as though taking in a conversation which they seemed to understand. As with men we often meet, this silence was passing them off for being wiser than they were. My canine companion was close to my side with my hand gentl

they were sufficiently fed with the proper food, talked to them in kindly tones of voice, gave them tid-bits now and then that I knew they were fond of, patted them approvingly, never scolded or used a whip, and, finally, spent a great deal of my time in their company. I further explained that intellectually I regarded them as being

ide. He is quite apt to take the utilitarian view of most earthly matters. His horse he regards as a useful animal, to be well fed and comfortably housed in order to prolong his usefulness as much as possible; and his dog he looks upon as a useless companion—not worthy of respect, comfortable lodging, or good food, unless he earns all three by bringing up the cows at night and chasing all marauders from grain and planted fields during the day. Your side of the animal question is a new one, and I am going to commence operations upon my faithful burden-carrier as soon as we reach the stable. I’d be mightily pleased to have him walk along with 58 me and put his velvety nose against my face as I have seen your calico friend do with you. All men, all real men, properly put together, are fond of being loved, and are willing to take it in wholes

e proposed, with apparent humorous sincerity, to take in hand, and make a special effort to reform his manners and cultivate his mental faculties. He argued that human society was responsible for “downing the pig.” It is a question of “mad dog!” over again, he declared. “Some 60 one in the far-off past had said the hog was a filthy beast, and without stopping to inquire, everybody else

ures—made, with a good supply of shade-trees, an attractive village. Of course the buildings were all square and white, and the blinds were all green, and they were placed as near the road as possible, but notwithstanding these faults of form, color, and position, constituting crimes against Nature, the whole was fairly attractive. Do what they will to offend and deface the beauties of New England, and espe

ared. But, as the English would say, she was not at all a bad sort. She was active, inquisitive, quaint, and direct,—had opinions upon all subjects, and expressed them freely. I have always believed I was her first serious anthropological study. At first, she accepted me with an immense qualification. My manifest bias in favor of 63 animals was something new to her which she could not comprehend. To her practical mind, the petting of a dog and looking after his welfare was a perfect waste of time, while paying particular atten

r health, and yit you talk sense about anything else except them critters of yourn, and that’s what puzzles the folks—to think that such a smart feller as you ’pear to be, should be clear gone off when you get to talking to the critters. And then there ain’t any sense in it, any way; you can talk to dogs and hosses all your life and never git an answer. They are dumb beasts, that’s all they be, and you can’t make 65 ’em folks if you try a thousand years. I’ll bet anything you ain’t got a wife. If you had, you wouldn’t be talking all this nonsense to critters all the time; if y

ause of the outburst. It was as clear as the noonday sun that she had a very poor opinion of an individual who preferr

“’Spose I am, I try to be. I don’t know much about it anyhow. What makes you ask such an all-fired

, and he is the only animal that will leave his kind to associate with man; and there are thousands of instances recorded of his having sacrificed his life for those he loved. No other animal has ever been known to do that. The elephant, with his admitted capacity for acute reasoning, never defends his master unless ordered; on the contrary, he seldom misses an opportunity to kill those who have injured or offended him. The dog never does this; he bears no malice, and forgets and forgives injuries inflicted by those he loves, neither does he know distinction of condition or 68 rank

lot about animals I never heard before or thought of; nobody round here ever talks about ’em like you do. Why, you put the dog way up head of folks. From what you say, he’s ten times as decent as most men, and, if he could only talk, he would show us he could spell hard words and do the meanest

s, especially in those of the domestic sort. The two points of difference are in form of body and the four legs given to the lower orders instead of two. The heart, lungs, bones, muscles, nerves, blood-vessels and brain are in each about the same. In the animal, for want of speech,

he same amount of pain 71 and suffering. If whipping is painless, why do all animals who have once been whipped jump aside and try to dodge the whip they see flourishing in the hands of those near them?

better than we do. I’ve been going to meeting sence I was old enough to go alone, and I never heard a minister say anything about loving animals and treating them decent

tarting point was to commence in earnest. The return was made by a short series of long days’ work, commencing early in the morning, running well into the day, with rest in the middle, starting off aga

, no matter how fascinating to his taste the oats might be, to be in my society, and the watchful dog was never away from my side, night or day. At first he shared the stable with his companion, but soon after, whenever he was ordered out for the night, his anxious, silent pleadings became so tender a

re and disinterested friends—always anxious to serve 74

were never to enter again. I parted with them in sorrow, filled with anxiety for their future, as well I might have been, for early the ensuing autumn my calico friend became again a “circus

ragic fiasco at Fredericksburg to recover a new supply of strength and courage for the encounter with unknown blunders to come; and, aside from doing as many drills as

view. He told the orderly that his name was of no consequence and that his business was personal. Upon his entering my

hanged 76 since then; we’ve had a great sorrow since your dog and horse scart that drove of catt

he change was very gre

st in the ‘Third,’ and he was going with them. Well, I thought his mother would sink into the ground then and there, but she didn’t. George, you know, was her favorite. He was always a reliable, duty-loving boy. She wiped her eyes, took him in her arms, and, while her heart was breaking, kissed him, and said: ‘I ‘spose you ought to go where right and your country calls, but it will be awful hard for me to part with you. I don’t know how I’m going to live with you in danger.’ The week he spent with us, I tell you, it was like a great shadow in that old house. His mother kept about, but her heart was breaking with terrible forebodings, and her eyes were always filling with tears.

d, the Vermont troops went with the army to Yorktown, and then came the dreadful 16th of April—Lees’ Mills. Three days after the fight some one sent a Boston paper to us, which gave the news of the first advance having been made by Companies —— and —— of the Third, and the terrible slaughter of the men, but gave no names. His m

t to take him back home, and that’s what I’m here about. I want you to help me to get him out of the Army. He was a new recruit when he saw his brother killed, and hasn’t been well since. You know he never was a strong boy, but he would go to war to be with G

oughts and extend the meagre hospitalities of the camp. Then the ride to the field hospital, the interview with the once bright, happy boy I had seen seven years before, now with the seal of death impla

mighty sorrows, were about the only rays of sunshine which ever invaded the tent life of those whose responsib

one quite out of fashion; so I was compelled to adopt the “buggy,” and, along with it, between its “fills,” a lively and “spunky” little specimen of a Vermont Morgan, that learned after the first hours of driving that there was a kind friend holding the reins, and with whom, from that moment, cordial relations were established. A very easy drive carr

h them, you’ll have to go over there to do it. I’m the old maid of the whole family, and taught school until I came here right after Cousin George’s death—he was the last of the four—to take care of uncle, who was awfully broken up, and is to this day. I guess nothing but death will ever mend his broken heart. He wanders ab

eneath the shades, my acquaintance of other days. At first he did not recognize me, and was a little offish, b

us afterward. If it hadn’t been for you, ‘Vin’ would have died in that ere hospital, for he didn’t live long after we got him home. Oh, he was

t autumn, and, although nearly three years had passed since the culmination of the “Great Sorrow,” the atmosphere seemed impregnated with it. The want of

d. The meal finished, 86 there came the walk to the “Meeting House Burying Ground,” where I saw the seven simple headstones standing for four generations. The first to Mary Gale, wife of G. C.; the second to “George C., a soldier of the Revolutionar

how they did it. Upon this occasion something got into my throat, and I could not speak; someth

old age and to have kept the old place where we were all born in the family name. No, I don’t b’leve in sich kindness; all of ’em ought to have lived; they were jest as good as they could be, not one of ’em ever told a lie or did a mean thing as long as they lived. Then if they were so good, as they were, and nobody can dispute it, why were they all taken away from me so soon, and so many mean critters, good for nothing to nobody,

eyes as if it were a lordly estate handed down from scores of generations before 89 me. The boys loved it as I do and liked to work over it. Now what does it all amount to? In a short time when I have passed over yender to join the rest on ’em, the old place will go into the hands of unfeeling strangers who’ll care no more about it than savages. Most likely they’ll rob the

“Come away, uncle, you are nervous

body to know it. Look at those graves holding all I had in the world, and no o