This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1841 edition. Excerpt: ...as many more did beside." The attention of the two was now attracted by the appearance of a beautiful little French dog, which came bounding through the bushes, and wagging his tail, as though rejoiced to meet a human being in these now deserted regions. "It is Pauline's," said Andrew; your honor knows no dog ...
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This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1841 edition. Excerpt: ...as many more did beside." The attention of the two was now attracted by the appearance of a beautiful little French dog, which came bounding through the bushes, and wagging his tail, as though rejoiced to meet a human being in these now deserted regions. "It is Pauline's," said Andrew; your honor knows no dog was permitted them to carry, and I believe his name is Sappho. You see he answers to the name. Poor little fellow, so you too must perish here. Will your honor please to let me shoot him? it would be such a mercy." "No, Andrew, he is such a rare animal, and so very pretty, I think I will keep him. You may take him to quarters." Andrew departed with the dog under his arm, the little animal suffering himself to be taken unresistingly. As they went out of the wicker-gate the cattle, attracted by the sound of a human voice, began to gather round; and the cows, with distended udders, appeared looking anxiously for the hand accustomed to relieve them. "Poor creatures," said Andrew; "if it were not for scaring the dog, I would shoot two or three of you, it would be such a mercy. But never mind," added he, mounting his horse, "you will die quick enough when it comes cold weather." This was all unheard by the commander, to whose mind's eye the beautiful and high-spirited Pauline, bending beneath the task of some imperious master, was now present, and he was only wakened from his reverie by Andrew calling out, as though he divined his thoughts, "if he did not think it was a pity she was French and a papist?" CHAPTER XI. "Princes and lords may flourish or may fade, A breath can make them, as a breath has made; But a bold yeomanry, their country's pride, When once destroyed, can...
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