Bruno

PREFACE

The present volume is the first of a proposed monthly series of story books for the young.

The publishers of the series, in view of the great improvements which have been made within a few years past in the means and appliances of the typographical art, and of the accumulation of their own facilities and resources, not only for the manufacture of such books in an attractive form, and the embellishment of them with every variety of illustration, but also for the circulation of them in the widest manner throughout the land, find that they are in a condition to make a monthly communication of this kind to a very large number of families, and under auspices far more favorable than would have been possible at any former period. They have accordingly resolved on undertaking the work, and they have intrusted to the writer of this notice the charge of preparing the volumes.

The books, though called story books, are not intended to be works of amusement merely to those who may receive them, but of substantial instruction. The successive volumes will comprise a great variety, both in respect to the subjects which they treat, and to the form and manner in which the subjects will be presented; but the end and aim of all will be to impart useful knowledge, to develop the thinking and reasoning powers, to teach a correct and discriminating use of language, to present models of good conduct for imitation, and bad examples to be shunned, to explain and enforce the highest principles of moral duty, and, above all, to awaken and cherish the spirit of humble and unobtrusive, but heartfelt piety. The writer is aware of the great responsibility which devolves upon him, in being thus admitted into many thousands of families with monthly messages of counsel and instruction to the children, which he has the opportunity, through the artistic and mechanical resources placed at his disposal, to clothe in a form that will be calculated to open to him a very easy access to their attention, their confidence, and their hearts. He can only say that he will make every exertion in his power faithfully to fulfill his trust.

THE COMBAT WITH THE WOLF

The hunter alarmed.

In the night, a hunter, who lived in a cottage among the Alps, heard a howling.

“Hark!” said he, “I heard a howling.”

His wife raised her head from the pillow to listen, and one of the two children, who were lying in a little bed in the corner of the room, listened too. The other child was asleep.

“It is a wolf,” said the hunter.

“In the morning,” said the hunter, “I will take my spear, and my sheath-knife, and Bruno, and go and see if I can not kill him.”

Bruno was the hunter’s dog.

The hunter and his wife, and the child that was awake, listened a little longer to the howling of the wolf, and then, when at length the sounds died away, they all went to sleep.

Prepares for a hunt.

In the morning the hunter took his spear, and his sheath-knife, and his hunting-horn besides, and then, calling Bruno to follow him, went off among the rocks and mountains to find the wolf.

Discovers the animal.

While he was climbing up the mountains by a steep and narrow path, he thought he saw something black moving among the rocks at a great distance across the valley. He stopped to look at it. He looked at it very intently.

At first he thought it was the wolf. But it was not the wolf.

The hunter blows his horn.

Then he thought it was a man. So he blew a loud and long blast with his horn. He thought that if the moving thing which he saw were another man, he would answer by blowing his horn, and that then, perhaps, he would come and help the hunter hunt the wolf. He listened, but he heard no reply. He heard nothing but echoes.

By-and-by he came to a stream of water. It was a torrent, flowing wildly among the rocks and bushes.

“Bruno,” said the hunter, “how shall we get across this torrent?”

Bruno stood upon a rock, looking at the torrent very earnestly, but he did not speak.

“Bruno,” said the hunter again, “how shall we get across this torrent?”

Bruno barked.

The rude bridge.

The hunter then walked along for some distance on the margin of the stream, and presently came to a place where there was a log lying across it. So he and Bruno went over on the log. Bruno ran over at once. The hunter was at first a little afraid to go, but at last he ventured. He got across in safety. Here the hunter stopped a few minutes to rest.

The wolf discovered.

He then went on up the mountain. At last Bruno began to bark and to run on forward, looking excited and wild. He saw the wolf. The hunter hastened forward after him, brandishing his spear. The wolf was in a solitary place, high up among the rocks. He was gnawing some bones. He was gaunt and hungry. Bruno attacked him, but the wolf was larger and stronger than he, and threw him back with great violence against the ground. The dog howled with pain and terror.

Bruno’s courage. The wolf is killed.

The man thrust the spear at the wolf’s mouth, but the ferocious beast evaded the blow, and seized the shaft of the spear between his teeth. Then the great combat came on. Very soon the dog sprang up and seized the wolf by the throat, and held him down, and finally the man killed him with his spear.

Then he took his horn from his belt, and blew a long and loud blast in token of victory.

What became of the skin of the wolf.

He took the skin of the wolf, and carried it home. The fur was long, and gray in color. The hunter tanned and dressed the skin, and made it soft like leather. He spread it down upon the floor before the fire in his cottage, and his children played upon it. Bruno was accustomed to lie upon it in the evening. He would lie quietly there for a long time, looking into the fire, and thinking of the combat he had with the savage monster that originally wore the skin, at the time when he fought him on the mountains, and helped the hunter kill him.

The hunter and the hunter’s children liked Bruno very much before, but they liked him more than ever after his combat with the wolf.

COMBAT WITH A BOAR

Some wild animals are so ferocious and strong that it requires several dogs to attack and conquer them. Such animals are found generally in remote and uninhabited districts, among forests and mountains, or in countries inhabited by savages.

Habits of the boar.

The wild boar is one of the most terrible of these animals. He has long tusks projecting from his jaws. These serve him as weapons in attacking his enemies, whether dogs or men. He roams in a solitary manner among the mountains, and though he is very fierce and savage in his disposition, he will seldom molest any one who does not molest him. If, when he is passing along through the forests, he sees a man, he pays no regard to him, but goes on in his own way. If, however, when he is attacked by dogs, and is running through the forest to make his escape, he meets a man in his way, he thinks the man is the hunter that has set the dogs upon him, or at least that he is his enemy. So he rushes upon him with terrible fury, and kills him – sometimes with a single blow – and then, trampling over the dead body, goes on bounding through the thickets to escape from the dogs.

The tusks.

Wild boars often have dreadful combats with each other. In this engraving we have a representation of such a fight. The weapons with which they fight are sharp tusks growing out of the under jaw. With these tusks they can inflict dreadful wounds.

Savages, when they attack the wild boar, arm themselves with spears, and station themselves at different places in the forest, where they think the boar will pass. Sometimes they hide themselves in thickets, so as to be ready to come out suddenly and attack the boar when the dogs have seized him.

The dogs and the boar. The spears.

Here is a picture of such a combat. The dogs have pursued the boar through the woods until he begins to be exhausted with fatigue and terror. Still, he fights them very desperately. One he has thrown down. He has wounded him with his tusks. The dog is crying out with pain and fright. There are three other dogs besides the one who is wounded. They are endeavoring to seize and hold the boar, while one of the hunters is thrusting the iron point of his spear into him. Two other hunters are coming out of a thicket near by to join in the attack. One of them looks as if he were afraid of the boar. He has good reason to be afraid.

Savages dress themselves in skins.

These hunters are savages. They are nearly naked. One of them is clothed with a skin. I suppose, by the claws, that it is a lion’s skin. He hunted and killed the lion, perhaps, in the same way that he is now hunting and killing the boar.

Savages use the skins of beasts for clothing because they do not know how to spin and weave.

But we must now go back to Bruno, the Alpine hunter’s dog that killed the wolf, and who used afterward to sleep before the fire in the hunter’s cottage on the skin.

JOOLY

The Alps.

Bruno’s master lived among the Alps. The Alps are very lofty mountains in Switzerland and Savoy.

Chamois hunting.

The upper portions of these mountains are very rocky and wild. There are crags, and precipices, and immense chasms among them, where it is very dangerous for any one to go. The hunters, however, climb up among these rocks and precipices to hunt the chamois, which is a small animal, much like a goat in form and character. He has small black horns, the tips of which turn back.

The chamois climbs up among the highest rocks and precipices to feed upon the grass which grows there in the little nooks and corners. The chamois hunters climb up these after him. They take guns with them, in order to shoot the chamois when they see one. But sometimes it is difficult for them to get the game when they have killed it, as we see in this engraving. The hunters were on one side of a chasm and the chamois on the other, and though he has fallen dead upon the rocks, they can not easily reach him. One of the hunters is leaning across the chasm, and is attempting to get hold of the carcass with his right hand. With his left hand he grasps the rock to keep himself from falling. If his hand should slip, he would go headlong down into an awful abyss.

The other hunter is coming up the rock to help his comrade. He has his gun across his shoulder. Both the hunters have ornamented their hats with flowers.

The chamois lies upon the rock where he has fallen. We can see his black horns, with the tips turned backward.

The lower slopes of the mountains.

In the summer season, the valleys among these Alpine mountains are very delightful. The lower slopes of them are adorned with forests of fir and pine, which alternate with smooth, green pasturages, where ramble and feed great numbers of sheep and cows. Below are rich and beautiful valleys, with fields full of flowers, and cottages, and pretty little gardens, and every thing else that can make a country pleasant to see and to play in. There are no noxious or hurtful animals in these valleys, so that there is no danger in rambling about any where in them, either in the fields or in the groves. They must take care of the wet places, and of the thorns that hide among the roses, but beyond these dangers there is nothing to fear. In these valleys, therefore, the youngest children can go into the thickets to play or to gather flowers without any danger or fear; for there are no wild beasts, or noxious animals, or poisonous plants there, or any thing else that can injure them.

Winter in the Alps.

Thus the country of the Alps is very pleasant in summer, but in winter it is cold and stormy, and all the roads and fields, especially in the higher portions of the country, are buried up in snow. Still, the people who live there must go out in winter, and sometimes they are overtaken by storms, and perish in the cold.

Scene in the hunter’s cottage.

Once Bruno saved his master’s life when he was thus overtaken in a storm. The baby was sick, and the hunter thought he would go down in the valley to get some medicine for him. The baby was in a cradle. His grandmother took care of him and rocked him. His mother was at work about the room, feeling very anxious and unhappy. The hunter himself, who had come in tired from his work a short time before, was sitting in a comfortable easy-chair which stood in the corner by the fire. The head of the cradle was near the chair where the hunter was sitting.1

“George,” said the hunter’s wife, “I wish you would look at the baby.”

George leaned forward over the head of the cradle, and looked down upon the baby.

“Poor little thing!” said he.

“What shall we do?” said his wife. As she said this she came to the cradle, and, bending down over it, she moved the baby’s head a little, so as to place it in a more comfortable position. The baby was very pale, and his eyes were shut. As soon as he felt his mother’s hand upon his cheek, he opened his eyes, but immediately shut them again. He was too sick to look very long even at his mother.

Consultation between the hunter and his wife.

“Poor little thing!” said George again. “He is very sick. I must go to the village and get some medicine from the doctor.”

“Oh no!” said his wife. “You can not go to the village to-night. It is a dreadful storm.”

“Yes,” said the hunter, “I know it is.”

“The snow is very deep, and it is drifting more and more,” said his wife. “It will be entirely dark before you get home, and you will lose your way, and perish in the snow.”

The hunter did not say any thing. He knew very well that there would be great danger in going out on such a night.

“You will get lost in the snow, and die,” continued his wife, “if you attempt to go.”

A hard alternative.

“And baby will die, perhaps, if I stay at home,” said the hunter.

The hunter’s wife was in a state of great perplexity and distress. It was hard to decide between the life of her husband and that of her child. While the parents were hesitating and looking into the cradle, the babe opened its eyes, and, seeing its father and mother there, tried to put out its little hands to them as if for help, but finding itself too weak to hold them up, it let them drop again, and began to cry.

“Poor little thing!” said the hunter. “I’ll go – I’ll go.”

The mother made no more objection. She could not resist the mute appeal of the poor helpless babe. So she brought her husband his coat and cap, and forced her reluctant mind to consent to his going.

It was strange, was it not, that she should be willing to risk the life of her husband, who was all the world to her, whose labor was her life, whose strength was her protection, whose companionship was her solace and support, for the sake of that helpless and useless baby?

It was strange, too, was it not, that the hunter himself, who was already almost exhausted by the cold and exposure that he had suffered during the day, should be willing to go forth again into the storm, for a child that had never done any thing for him, and was utterly unable to do any thing for him now? Besides, by saving the child’s life, he was only compelling himself to work the harder, to procure food and clothing for him while he was growing up to be a man.

What was the baby’s name?

His name was Jooly.

At least they called him Jooly. His real name was Julien.

The hunter bids little Jooly good-by.

When the hunter was all ready to go, he came to the cradle, and, putting his great rough and shaggy hand upon the baby’s wrist, he said,

“Poor little Jooly! I will get the doctor himself to come and see you, if I can.”

So he opened the door and went out, leaving Jooly’s grandmother rocking the cradle, and his mother at work about the room as before.

When the hunter had gone out and shut the door, he went along the side of the house till he came to a small door leading to his cow-house, which was a sort of small barn.

He calls Bruno.

He opened the door of the cow-house and called out “

Bruno!”

Bruno, who was asleep at this time in his bed, in a box half filled with straw, started up on hearing his master’s voice, and, leaping over the side of the box, came to his master in the storm.

Bruno’s bed.

Bruno was glad to be called. And yet it was a dark and stormy night. The wind was blowing, and the snow was driving terribly. On the other hand, the bed where he had been lying was warm and comfortable. The cow was near him for company. He was enjoying, too, a very refreshing sleep, dreaming of races and frolics with other dogs on a pretty green. All this repose and comfort were disturbed. Still, Bruno was glad. He perceived at once that an unexpected emergency had occurred, and that some important duty was to be performed. Bruno had no desire to lead a useless life. He was always proud and happy when he had any duty to perform, and the more important and responsible the duty was, the more proud and happy it made him. He cared nothing at all for any discomfort, fatigue, or exposure that it might bring upon him.

A comparison.

Some boys are very different from Bruno in this respect. They do not share his noble nature. They never like duty. All they like is ease, comfort, and pleasure. When any unexpected emergency occurs, and they are called to duty, they go to their work with great reluctance, and with many murmurings and repinings, as if to do duty were an irksome task. I would give a great deal more for a dog like Bruno than for such a boy.

The hunter and Bruno in the snow.

Bruno and his master took the road which led to the village. The hunter led the way, and Bruno followed. The road was steep and narrow, and in many places the ground was so buried in snow that the way was very difficult to find. Sometimes the snow was very soft and deep, and the hunter would sink into it so far that he could scarcely advance at all. At such times Bruno, being lighter and stronger, would wallow on through the drift, and then look back to his master, and wait for him to come, and then go back to him again, looking all the time at the hunter with an expression of animation and hope upon his countenance, and wagging his tail, as if he were endeavoring to cheer and encourage him. This action had the effect, at any rate, of encouragement. It cheered the hunter on; and so, in due time, they both arrived safely at the village.

The doctor concluded, after hearing all about the case, that it would not be best for him to go up the mountain; but he gave the hunter some medicine for the baby.

The hunter attempts to return to the cottage.

The medicine was put in a phial, and the hunter put the phial in his pocket. When all was ready, the hunter set out again on his return home.

Difficulties in the way.

It was much harder going up than it had been to come down. The road was very steep. The snow, too, was getting deeper every hour. Besides, it was now dark, and it was more difficult than ever to find the way.

At last, when the hunter had got pretty near his own cottage again, his strength began to fail. He staggered on a little farther, and then he sank down exhausted into the snow. Bruno leaped about him, and rubbed his head against his master’s cheek, and barked, and wagged his tail, and did every thing in his power to encourage his master to rise and make another effort. At length he succeeded.

“Yes,” said the hunter, “I’ll get up, and try again.”

Getting lost.

So he rose and staggered feebly on a little farther. He looked about him, but he could not tell where he was. He began to feel that he was lost. Now, whenever a man gets really lost, either in the woods or in the snow, a feeling of great perplexity and bewilderment generally comes over his mind, which almost wholly deprives him of the use of his faculties. The feeling is very much like that which one experiences when half awake. You do not know where you are, or what you want, or where you want to go. Sometimes you scarcely seem to know who you are. The hunter began to be thus bewildered. Then it was bitter cold, and he began to be benumbed and stupefied.

Intense cold almost always produces a stupefying effect, when one has been long exposed to it. The hunter knew very well that he must not yield to such a feeling as this, and so he forced himself to make a new effort. But the snow seemed to grow deeper and deeper, and it was very hard for him to make his way through it. It was freshly fallen, and, consequently, it was very light and soft, and the hunter sank down in it very far. If he had had snow shoes, he could have walked upon the top of it; but he had no snow shoes.

At last he became very tired.

“Bruno,” said he, “I must lie down here and rest a little, before I can go on any further.”

Bruno tries to encourage and save his master.

But Bruno, when he saw his master preparing to lie down, jumped about him, and barked, and seemed very uneasy. Just then the hunter saw before him a deep black hole. He looked down, and saw that it was water. Instead of being in the road, he was going over some deep pit filled with water, covered, except in one place, with ice and snow. He perceived that he had had a very narrow escape from falling into this water, and he now felt more bewildered and lost than ever. He contrived to get by the dangerous hole, feeling his way with a stick, and then he sank down in the snow among the rocks, and gave up in despair.

The hunter comes very near perishing in the snow.

And yet the house was very near. The chimney and the gable end of it could just be distinguished in the distance through the falling snow. Bruno knew this, and he was extremely distressed that his master should give up when so near reaching home. He lay down in the snow by the side of his master, and putting his paw over his arm, to encourage him and keep him from absolute despair, he turned his head toward the house, and barked loud and long, again and again, in hopes of bringing somebody to the rescue.

In the picture you can see the hunter lying in the snow, with Bruno over him. His cap has fallen off, and is half buried. His stick, too, lies on the snow near his cap. That was a stick that he got to feel down into the hole in the ice with, in order to ascertain how deep the water was, and to find his way around it. The rocks around the place are covered with snow, and the branches of the trees are white with it.

Danger of going to sleep when out in a storm.

It is extremely dangerous to lie down to sleep in the snow in a storm like this. People that do so usually never wake again. They think, always, that they only wish to rest themselves, and sleep a few minutes, and that then they will be refreshed, and be ready to proceed on their journey. But they are deceived. The drowsiness is produced, not by the fatigue, but by the cold. They are beginning to freeze, and the freezing benumbs all their sensations. The drowsiness is the effect of the benumbing of the brain.

Sometimes, when several persons are traveling together in cold and storms, one of their number, who may perhaps be more delicate than the rest, and who feels the cold more sensibly, wishes very much to stop a few minutes to lie down and rest, and he begs his companions to allow him to do so. But they, if they are wise, will not consent. Then he sometimes declares that he will stop, at any rate, even if they do not consent. Then they declare that he shall not, and they take hold of his shoulders and arms to pull him along. Then he gets angry, and attempts to resist them. The excitement of this quarrel warms him a little, and restores in some degree his sensibility, and so he goes on, and his life is saved. Then he is very grateful to them for having disregarded his remonstrances and resistance, and for compelling him to proceed.2

But now we must return to the story.

Alarm in the cottage. They open the door.

The hunter’s family heard the barking in the house. They all immediately went to the door. One of the children opened the door. The gusts of wind blew the snow in her face, and blinded her. She leaned back against the door, and wiped the snow from her face and eyes with her apron. Her grandmother came to the door with a light, but the wind blew it out in an instant. Her mother came too, and for a moment little Jooly was left alone.