That was enough for Bronti; no need of a loud, cross, or threatening
voice. He saw that I wished him to leave the sofa, and he wags his tail
as contentedly on the carpet. I can manage him with a word, almost with
a look, because he was born in the house, and has never been away from
me; but master Fiddy was a year or two old when I had him, and some
things he will do in spite of me. He will hunt a cat, kill a bird, and
growl most furiously over a bone. Bronti has the same nature, but his
love for us overcomes it all. He would live peaceably with a cat, it we
had one; he will let the chickens and pigeons perch upon him, or walk
between his feet; and last year I had half a dozen tame mice, which I
used to let out upon him, when they would nestle in his warm coat, run
races over and under him, and he would not move a limb, for fear of
hurting one. As to a bone, he will allow me to take it out of his mouth
at any time; and, what is more, he will readily give it up to Fiddy,
whose little teeth can only nibble off the meat; and when he has done
that, Bronti takes it, and munches the bone.

His mother was full grown when I had her, and she was very fierce: if
any workman came to the house, unless her master or I was by to
restrain her, she would put him in fear of his life; and would have
bitten him too, if she could have seized him. We gave her away to a
friend who would be kind to her, and keep her out of mischief; and we
brought up a puppy for ourselves, this same Bronti. Now he is more than
three years old; and though he will sometimes fight a big dog who
affronts him in the street, he never frightened anybody who came to the
house. He watches, and gives one single, deep, quiet bark, to let us
know that there is a stranger; and seeing that we are satisfied, he sits
with one ear thrown back, listening and watching. If he meets a workman
in the house, he does not even growl; only keeps him in sight, following
him about, but with such a sweet-tempered look, that the greatest