Paulina and her Pets

Excerpt

Paulina Evering was an intelligent girl, and as interesting as she was intelligent and pretty. She was kind-hearted, and generous almost to a fault. She was beloved by all the children in her neighborhood; for she was ever indulging them in some way. She had a beautiful grape-vine in the garden nurtured by her own hand. And when the grapes were ripe, she seldom tasted of them herself, but when any little boys or girls called to see her, she would ask the servant to go into the garden, and give them bountifully of the luscious fruit.

She was noted for her humanity to the brute creation. She looked upon everything that drew breath as the handiwork of that Being to which she owed her own existence; and though she had seen scarce twelve summers, she was old enough to feel that by the exercise of kindness to dumb beasts even, she could evince her gratitude for life, health, and other blessings she enjoyed.

Paulina went one day, to spend a few hours with her cousins; as she reached the door, they were just driving from the house a poor dog, which had once been such a favorite with them, that they fed it on the greatest delicacies, and never would let it sleep but on a nice cushion.

“What are you going to do with poor Fido?” cried Paulina. “Oh! the vile animal!” said her cousin Emily. “Look how frightful he has grown! I would not let him stay in the house for the world; I am going to give him to those boys at the door: and I do not care what they do with him, for my brother Charles has given me a little beauty. Come in, and I will show him to you.”—“Stop, do stay a moment,” said Paulina; “I beg you will not give Fido to those wicked boys they will torment him to death. It was but the other day, some wicked boys fastened a tin-pot to a poor dog's tail, and then let him run, with it dragging after him, frightening the poor creature almost to death. I beg of you, do not let the hard-hearted fellows have him. Give him to me, and I will take him to my little hospital, and nurse him as long as he lives.” Fido had gone into the kitchen (where young ladies and dogs have certainly nothing to do), and the cook, who was very busy, preparing for a great dinner, had thrown some boiling water over his head and back, and scalded him in such a dreadful manner, that no one thought he could live through the day. Emily was so much enraged with the cook, and shed so many tears when she saw her pet suffering so much, that every one thought she had an excellent heart, and was really attached to her dog; but as soon as he was cured, and she found he had lost an eye, and had no hair on his back, she could not bear the sight of him. Fido was beaten out of the hall, obliged to look for bones, and sleep in a corner, on the stairs; and at last, if Paulina had not come in time to save him, he would have been given up to half a dozen wicked boys, who would have tormented him to death. Paulina was much displeased with her cousin from this circumstance, for her character was very different from Emily's. The little hospital she had alluded to was for her sick or lame animals. It was composed of a dog, whose paw had been broken; a cat, whose ear had been bitten off, by a great rat which it had caught, and a blind squirrel. Beside these, she had in a cage a little sparrow, whose wings had been broken by a bird of prey; and as it could not fly to the bottom of its cage for water, or food, she made a little ladder for it, so it could jump up and down when it pleased. She had besides a thrush, which had been almost frozen to death, and never recovered the use of its feet: but it did not sing the less gayly, though a cripple.