Arthur Hamilton, and His Dog - 17

Emma and Charlie, who had just comprehended that the stranger-gentleman
was going to take away the dog, began to look very grave indeed. Emma
was no martyr, to suffer calmly for conscience' sake, much less little
white-headed Charlie, who obstinately asserted with a most heroic air,
that "nobody should tarry off _his_ doggie."

"But your dear brother Arthur is all alone, and he cries at night when
he goes to bed, because he has no brother nor sister there, not even a
pussie or a dog. He won't cry if Rover is with him. Don't you want Rover
to go?"

"Esmaam I do; but I want Rover to stay here with me too."

"But he can't make Arthur happy then. Arthur, poor, dear Arthur, will
have nobody to comfort him."

"Rover _must_ go," said Emma, sorrowfully; "but I wish there were
two Rovers, one for Arthur, and one for me."

It was a pretty sight to see these children put their fat, little arms
round Rover's neck, and hug him over and over again, and kiss his rough
face with their rosy mouths, and let their sunny curls lie among his
shaggy locks. Great tears rolled down Emma's cheeks as the dog went out
of the door; but though Emma was no martyr, she was a warm-hearted,
generous little girl, and she did not want to keep the dog away from
Arthur, though so sorry to part with it.

"We have got you and I, and two kitties, haven't we Charlie," said she,
"and sister Mary and brother John."

"And your mother beside, who I hope is worth counting," said Mrs.
Hamilton. "You can spare Rover very well, I think."

Arthur Hamilton, and His Dog - 16

A few days after Arthur's departure, an idea occurred to Mrs. Hamilton
which she was sure would give him pleasure. This was to send him Rover,
to keep as his own. But would the children be willing to part with their
pet and playfellow? And if they were, would Mr. Martin give his consent?

That very evening she proposed it to the children, and she was pleased
to find how willing they were to make some sacrifice for their little
brother's sake. Even Emma, who loved so dearly to play with him, and
ride on the sled after him, seemed ready to part with him when she found
it would make Arthur happy. Yet it was with a mournful voice, she told
him, as she patted him and stroked his long ears,

"You must be a good doggie, Rover, and make my brother Arthur happy. He
be good brother, and you must be good doggie too. Won't you, Rover, good
fellow?"

Mrs. Hamilton wrote to Mr. Martin stating Arthur's fondness for the dog,
and that if he had no objections, they should like to give him to Arthur
for his own; but added, that she did not wish to do so unless perfectly
agreeable to him. She was quite surprised to see Mr. Martin coming in at
the door on the second morning after the letter was sent. He said he had
come within three miles on business, and thought he would just ride
round, and take the dog.

"I fear you may find him troublesome, sir," said Mrs. H., "for my
children have allowed him to take great liberties with them."

"Not a bit! Not a bit!" said the old gentleman; "to be sure my wife
don't take to dogs overmuch, but you see, the boy is a little home-sick,
and we want him to feel more contented, if we can; so I was very glad to
take the dog. He is a noble fellow, on my word. How old is he?"

"Two next Spring," said Mrs. H., "and he is a very kind, faithful
creature, I assure you. We all love him very much."

Arthur Hamilton, and His Dog - 15

With such words Mrs. Hamilton sought to soothe and strengthen her child,
while her own heart was throbbing with painful emotions. She could not
sleep that night, for her heart yearned over her darling boy, and she
longed to fold him under the shelter of a loving home. She felt that she
needed in her own heart more of that perfect submission to God's will
which she enjoined on others, and it was only by earnest and humble
prayer that she could calm her troubled spirit, and feel trust and
confidence that all was for the best. But she had found prayer to be a
balm for the wounded spirit in many an hour of suffering, and she now
realized the sweetness of that inestimable privilege.

   "Oh not a gift or blessing
     With this can we compare;
   The power which he hath given,
     To pour our souls in prayer."




CHAPTER IV.


THE PRESENT.

Arthur left home early Monday morning. It was a cold, dreary day
without, and a dreary one within to Mrs. Hamilton. She had no unoccupied
moments in which to sit down, and pore over her troubles; but amid all
her cares and labors, the pleading, sorrowful face of her boy would rise
before her, like an accusing angel. She feared she had shown him too
little sympathy in his sufferings, and had too much repressed the
manifestation of his feelings. She seemed to herself,  as her
imagination followed her weeping boy, a cruel, heartless mother;  and
again only in prayer could she find relief and peace, and even then, a
weight still rested upon her spirits.

Arthur Hamilton, and His Dog - 14

"I will only eat a potatoe and a piece of bread, if you will let me
stay, mother; indeed I won't be much of a burden to you, but oh, dear
mother, don't send me back there," cried he, sobbing as if his heart
would break.

This was a sad trial for Mrs. Hamilton, and she paused to think what was
right, and to ask for guidance from on high. It seemed to her that
Arthur's dissatisfaction arose from his own weakness of spirit, rather
than from anything really disagreeable in his situation. They were kind
to him; he was not over-worked; could attend a good school; and would it
not be an injury to him, to indulge this excessive love for home, and
yield to his entreaties? Would he ever be a man, with courage to face
the storms of life, if she, with a woman's weakness, allowed her
feelings to prevail over her judgment? It must not be. She must be firm
for his sake; cruel as it seemed, it was real kindness, and she trusted
he would soon be contented. If not, she could then change her
determination if she wished. So she told him once more, that duty and
not present enjoyment was to be consulted; that she still thought it was
best for him to stay at Mr. Martin's, and she still believed he would
find contentment and peace there, in doing his duty. She did not upbraid
him, but told him very tenderly, she wished him to acquire more strength
of purpose, and to gain the habit of controlling his feelings. If he did
not, he could never be happy or useful, and it would be sad indeed to
grow up a weak, timid and useless being, who had not strength of
character enough to pursue what was right, if difficulties lay in the
path. "Whenever you are lonely and sad," said she, "think of me, and how
much pleasure you are giving me by staying and doing your duty. Think of
your Father in heaven, who watches over you, and will be well-pleased
when you try to subdue your faults. Never forget to ask Him for strength
to do right, and He will give it, if you ask in sincerity. Remember
always that He has placed us in the world to become his children, and
grow holy; and it is often through trial, we are made better. You will
be a better boy if you conquer your weakness, and become cheerful and
contented, than you could have been, had no sacrifice been required of
you. My dear child, I do believe God will bless you, and enable you to
conquer."