"Has my sister ever heard the story of Ulysses and his dog?" inquired Maurice. 66 No, never," said Clara. "Do tell me the history. I saw my cousin Fanny drawing some screens one day from tracing paper, upon which were represented Ulysses, and his dog lying at his feet; but I did not like to ask who Ulysses was, because I was ashamed to own my ignorance." "In the Iliad, as I have already observed," said Mr. C., "the action is limited to the destruction of Troy, which is only to be effected by the conciliation of Achilles to the common cause. In the Odyssey it is the establishment of Ulysses in Ithaca, an event which, after innumerable difficulties, he is finally enabled to accomplish. You must read the book in order to become acquainted with the leading facts of the narrative; but I will relate the story of Ulysses and his dog, which is a general favourite, because it so beautifully demonstrates the attachment and gratitude of which the canine race are susceptible." "You will gratify me very much, papa." "After an absence of twenty years, Ulysses, who had been engaged half of that time in the siege of Troy, returned to his palace in Ithaca, not in the royal robes he had formerly worn, but in the tattered garb of a poor old beggar, when his dog recognizing his beloved master, notwithstanding his altered appearance, was so overpowered with joy, that he actually expired at his feet. The incident itself was probably the creation of the poet's imagination, but his interesting narratives are undoubtedly founded on fact, or his works would not have afforded such exquisite It is ne delight to so many succeeding generations. Be this as it may, however, you shall hear the story in verse. cessary to remember that Eumæus is an old herdsman who lived in a cottage near the palace, and that Ulysses, still in disguise, called upon him on his way to request him to conduct him thither. They converse together as they walk: Thus near the gates conferring as they drew, But ah! not fated long to please his lord! He knew his lord; he knew, and strove to meet; Some care his age deserves or was he prized And always cherish'd by their friends, the great. But served a master of a nobler kind, Who never, never shall behold him more! Long, long since perish'd on a distant shore! Him no fell savage on the plain withstood, Such, when Ulysses left his natal coast; The master gone, the servants what restrains? : Makes man a slave takes half his worth away. "Ah! ah! now Maurice," said Clara, "I know how to account for the name you have given to your favourite little spaniel.—Argus was the name of Ulysses' dog-the most grateful-the most affectionate the most faithful of all the dogs that ever existed! "Well, papa, I like epic poetry bet ter than ever I did before!" |