After a short pause, Mrs. Ward said, with a smile, “You will be wishing to hear the story of Boxa’s ancestor, a dog, as I have said, deserving of renown. It chanced, in one of his official journeys, your grandfather visited a part of the coast peculiarly fatal to European vessels, especially to those outward bound to Quebec in the spring; the shore in the neighbourhood being very low, and the ledges of rock extending far out to sea. On one of the islands which he visited, he took up his abode in a neat cabin belonging to a planter, where he found welcome shelter, and a cheerful fire made from the wreckwood scattered abundantly upon the shore. There was a family of children, a merry group of boys and girls, who kept jingling in their hands some sort of playthings.

“What have you got there, my boys?’ he asked. They showed him their treasures, which proved to be bunches of small desk and cabinet keys, that had been picked up from the wrecks—a melancholy kind of toy, he could not help thinking. By-and-bye the good wife spread the hospitable board, at which he was invited to take his seat. He looked with surprise at the plates which she placed upon the deal table. They were very beautiful old china ware, and several pieces of a modern elegant breakfast set of dragon china, which had been ranged upon the shelves of the cabin alongside of the most common earthen crockery. These also had been cast ashore by the waves in boxes. When he asked to wash his hands, a fine huckaback towel, neatly marked with initial letters, was handed him. On inquiry, he learned that it had come from a wreck in which there were several ladies.

“There was something inexpressibly painful to the sensitive heart of my dear husband, in being thus surrounded by tokens of calamity. He inquired, with a sigh, whether any efforts had been made to help the sufferers?

“‘Oh, yes!’ said his host, a worthy man, though rough in his address and appearance. ‘Yes! we do our best, but it is very seldom our help comes in time to be worth much. Once or twice we have saved a solitary seaman by throwing a rope, or by sending in our dogs to drag others ashore; and some years ago there were seven men wrecked in the night, unknown to us. When the morning came, I was out early and discovered footmarks along the shore, which told me a tale I could read plain enough. I knew there had been a fearful gale some hours before, and my mind misgave me that these poor creatures, whose footsteps I saw, would perish of hunger in the interior, where they could find nothing to eat, and where there was not a solitary cottage at which they could get help.

“‘Well; I determined to track them, and I called up my brother, who was a strong, active young fellow; and we followed them, and found them at last, just as they had given up all hope, and had laid down to die. For three days and nights they had tasted neither food nor drink. When first they caught sight of us, I shall never forget their faces. Haggard and starved, as they looked, they cried for joy, and kissed our hands, and bade God bless us!’”

“And would they really have died, do you think, grandmamma, if the two men had not overtaken them?” said Georgie, eagerly.

“No doubt, my love, such would have been their fate. After hearing this tale, your grandfather retired early to rest, being weary with the fatigues of a long and exhausting day’s journey. He slept soundly, and though the wind, which had blown a strong gale when he landed, increased during the night to a hurricane, his slumbers were undisturbed for several hours. At length he was aroused by a loud uproar, for which at first he could not account. When he had quite regained consciousness, he found that, in addition to the noise of a raging tempest, there were the shouts and cries of men outside the cabin, and loud talking in the chamber beneath.

“It was evident that something unusual had occurred to disturb the household. Hastily rising and dressing himself, he made the best of his way downstairs, and there he found the wife of his host busily engaged in chafing the hands and arms of a poor half-drowned lad who had just been brought into the cabin and laid upon the floor. He, it appeared, had been cast ashore by a heavy swell, but there were others beside him who were still in danger.

“‘Could you manage, sir, to stand against the wind, perhaps you could carry this coil of rope; they may be wanting it,’ said the woman. In another minute your grandfather was battling against the storm, making his way along the rugged shore in the direction of a small group of men who proved to be his host, with a younger brother and the two men who had manned the boat in which he had himself come to the island.

“It was a fearful sight. The sea was in a white foam, the whole air filled with spray, and the wind blowing heavily. Not far from shore was a boat with a part of the exhausted crew from a vessel wrecked in the offing. The breakers made it impossible that the poor fellows should effect a landing. A terrible death seemed their inevitable fate. Just at the moment your grandfather reached the point, he saw his host leap into the sea, his object being to give the men a rope. It was at the peril of his life he took that desperate leap. His favourite dog, Boxa, saw and instantly followed his master. The two rose in a moment, and were borne by the swell toward the boat. They had nearly reached it when it capsized. Moir—that was the name of the gallant man—seized one of the seamen, and, wonderful to tell, succeeded in bringing him safe to shore. In the meantime, Boxa, following his master’s example, caught hold of another of the poor drowning creatures, and began to drag him along. It proved, however, that the dog’s hold had fastened upon the seaman’s south-wester cap, which came off in the water. The animal evidently was not aware of what had happened, and, not perceiving the diminution in the weight of his burden, was proceeding to make his way to land with the cap only.

“But no! they presently saw the sailor clutch hold of the dog’s tail,—-it was a fine, handsome, large tail, George;—and in this manner he was towed to land in safety. Imagine how glad he must have been when he found himself on terra firma! His first act was to give thanks to God, and then he threw his arms around Boxa, caressing him again and again, and loading him with fond epithets, part in English, part in Swedish. He was a young Swede, a fine, handsome youth, about twenty years of age. Without loss of time he was conducted to the house, where he shared the kind attentions of the mistress; but she had soon another and a more difficult case in hand.

“The master of the wrecked vessel, who was one of the boat’s crew, was rescued from a watery grave by the further exertions of Moir and his companions, and was carried in a perfectly insensible state to the house. Some hours elapsed before he was conscious of anything that was passing around him. He seemed, indeed, so completely gone, that every one had given him over, when some faint symptoms of returning life appeared.

“In the meantime the day wore on, and your grandfather, feeling that he caused additional trouble to the family by his prolonged stay under such circumstances, was very desirous to leave the island as soon as possible. The state of the weather, however, continued such as to render it impossible he should attempt to put to sea, and he passed another night and a part of the following day with the friendly planter, whose heroic exertions on behalf of the shipwrecked crew had greatly exalted him in the opinion of his visitor.

“During the early part of the night the two sat up together, there being a dearth of sleeping accommodation, for the beds were all given up to the sailors; and for some hours they conversed together on topics of mutual interest.

“Moir was a pious man, and his early history had been one of striking adventure. As he sat by the fireside, quietly narrating various passages of his past life, his faithful dog crouched close beside him, dozing and evidently dreaming at intervals; for he made strange noises, and paddled with his fore-feet, as though he were still struggling with the waves. His master looked fondly on the animal, and said,—

“‘You’d hardly credit, sir, the surprising sagacity of these dogs. Some of them are perfect wonders. They have more sense, really, it seems, than many so-called Christians, and I have sometimes thought they must reason.

“‘Boxa is a fair specimen of the race, and I could tell you some of his doings which would make you ask—Is it possible? I have known him help to carry to shore some light spars which the captain of a vessel in the harbour desired him to convey to the land-wash, in order that a boat’s crew might be saved the trouble of taking them. Another dog belonging to the same wharf, whether of his own accord, or being pressed into the service, took to helping him at this work for a time; he soon tired, however, and, in the middle of his second turn, thought proper to swim to shore without his spar.

“‘When Boxa saw what he was up to, he quietly made his way to land with his own turn, and then went in search of the runaway, and gave him a sound thrashing; in short, his arguments were so unanswerable and convincing that the culprit returned to his work, and without more ado, set to and persevered at it, till every spar that had been thrown overboard was rafted to shore by the combined labour of the two dogs.’

“‘That was certainly a very sagacious and knowing proceeding,’ said your grandfather, ‘and I do not wonder you are so much attached to your dog.’

“‘O sir, that’s only a sample I give you of his sense and clever ways. What I value him so much for it his fidelity to myself, and his attachment to the whole family. As to the children, be they never so small, we can always leave them without fear in his charge for hours; and to crown his good deeds, I must tell you he saved the life of the youngest of the fry. The child was playing close to the water-side, and fell in. There was nobody near, and how the dog found it out we never could tell; he was some distance off, and a few minutes before, when my wife passed that way, she saw him lying asleep, to all appearance as sound as a church door. But he must have heard the little one cry; for, certain it is, he had dragged her out, and was licking her little face and hands when the mother came back from her errand. You’ll not wonder after that to hear that we would one and all of us share our last crust with Boxa.’

“‘I do not, indeed, my good friend,’ said your grandfather; ‘and I must say I should be heartily glad to possess a dog of the breed having the same admirable qualities; for I have just lost my good old terrier, a tried and faithful animal, which I brought with me from England. He died of old age, about a month ago, and sadly shall I miss him.’

“Moir made no answer at the time, but the next day, shortly before his guest departed, the worthy man made his appearance alongside the boat as it was pushing off, and handed in a hamper which, he said, contained a pup of the right sort, if his reverence would please to accept of it. This pup was no other than the mother of Boxa, and an excellent animal she proved to be—faithful, sagacious, and patient; in short, a worthy scion of such a stock.

“I need not, I am sure, by way of conclusion, sing the praises of Boxa herself, for you know as well as I can tell you her many good qualities; and therefore I have only further to say that I hope Newfy—as you have named him—will turn out all that could be wished.”

“Thank you, thank you, dear grandmamma,” said George, who had listened with such fixed attention to the last part of Mrs. Ward’s narrative, that he had not once moved upon his stool; “I am so pleased with my pet, I shall not know how I can thank you enough. I think, if you please, I will run and fetch him out of the kennel, and put him into the basket I brought, hoping you would let me carry him home with me to-night.”

“Do so, George,” said his mother, folding up the handkerchief she had been embroidering, “and in the meantime I will put on my bonnet, for it is time we were on our way home.”

No sooner said than done. In five minutes George and Mrs. Green had said good-bye and were crossing the common in the direction of their own home.

“What a happy day it has been, mamma,” said our little friend, “and how glad I am I have such a nice birthday present;” and he bent down to take a peep through the wicker-work of the basket.

“And I am so glad, dear boy, that you have enjoyed your treat,” replied his mother. “May you see many happy, returns of this day; and may each succeeding year find you wiser and happier.”

Here ends the story of Georgie’s Present; but, as I think my young readers may like to know how the Newfoundland pup turned out, I will just tell them that he is now a full-grown, handsome young dog,—the great favourite and inseparable companion of my friend George, who assured me, not long ago, that of all his possessions there is none he prizes more highly than Newfy.