te the annoyance of being confined to the same set of
dates and dynasties, three histories of England, would reach down from
her book shelves some high authority and read us, perhaps, Plutarch's
report of the watchdog, Cipparus, who guarded the temple of AEsculapius
at Athens so well that when a thief slipped off with some of the
precious offerings, he went after in unrelenting pursuit. "First, the
man pelted him with stones, but Cipparus would not give up. When day
came, he kept at a little distance, but followed with his eye on the
man and, when the fellow threw him food, would not touch it. When the
man lay down, he spent the night by him; when he walked again, the dog
got up and kept following. Cipparus fawned on any wayfarers he met, but
kept barking at the thief. When the authorities, who were in chase,
heard of this from people who had met the pair and who described the
color and size of the dog, they pursued with yet more zeal, seized the
man and brought him back from Crommyon. The dog turned round and led
the way, proud and delighted, evidently claiming that _he_ had caught
the temple thief."

Another evening it would be Motley's account of the escape of the
Prince of Orange from a night raid sent out by the Duke of Alva, when
the Prince was encamped near Mons. "The sentinels were cut down, the
whole army surprised, and for a moment powerless, while, for two hours
long, from one o'clock in the morning until three, the Spaniards
butchered their foes, hardly aroused from their sleep, ignorant by how
small a force they had been thus suddenly surprised, and unable in the
confusion to distinguish between friend and foe. The boldest, led by
Julian in person, made at once for the Prince's tent. His guards and
himself were in profound sleep, but a small spaniel, who always passed
the night upon his bed, was a more faithful sentinel. The creature
sprang forward, barking furiously at the sound of hostile footsteps,
and scratching his master's face with his paws. There was but just time
for the Prince to mount a horse which was ready saddled, and to effect
his escape through the darkness, before his enemies sprang into the
tent. His servants were cut down, his master of the horse and two of
his secretaries, who gained their saddles a moment later, all lost
their lives, and but for the little dog's watchfulness, William of
Orange, upon whose shoulders the whole weight of his country's fortunes
depended, would have been led