coward, if honest, could not contrive to be afraid of him. I might leave
a joint of meat under his care, if he were ever so hungry; he would not
touch it, because he is truly honest: and as to his sense, you would
hardly believe if I told you how sensible he is. When I am putting on
my boots, he comes up to me, and looks very eagerly in my face; if I say
"Yes," or, "Bronti shall go," he is just wild with joy, tearing about,
barking, and making no small riot. If I say "No," or shake my head
sorrowfully and say nothing, he steals away, lies down, and never
attempts to follow me: but he gets on a chair, and Fiddy on a table, to
see me go out at the gate; and then they both begin to cry and moan most
piteously, so that nobody can comfort them.

On Sunday morning, Bronti looks very melancholy; how he knows the day I
cannot tell. Of course, we all go to church, but he begins to be sad as
soon as we get up. Neither he, nor Fiddy would attempt to follow us
then, if the doors and gate were all set open: they seat themselves at
the window to see us go. And now I recollect one time when Bronti was as
savage as his mother. You shall hear about it.

One Sunday, when were all at church, a friend, just landed from a
voyage, came to the house. He opened the garden gate, and was walking
towards the door, when up jumped Bronti on a chair at window, barking,
growling, and behaving so violently, that he really dared not try to get
into a house where such a wild beast stood ready to seize him. So he
went off to the church, found us, and after service returned with us;
and Bronti, seeing him as a friend of the family, gave him an
affectionate welcome. Then he told us of his ferocious behaviour; and we
were very glad to find that our gentle dog knew how to protect our house
and property when it was left entirely to his care.