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Updated: May 17, 2025
Then this bad boy called another, and they both took up large stones that were lying about the road, and threw them at the innocent sheep or rather lambs, for they were not full grown. I saw them hit on their heads and eyes, and nearly mad with pain and terror. I never saw a more cruel thing: I thought Bronti would have seized the boys, he was so angry.
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.
There is little Fiddy, the small spaniel, at my feet, where he has lain every day for eight years; and there is Bronti, the fine big Newfoundlander, lying, where do you think? Why the rogue has got upon the sofa, and when I shake my head at him, he wags his long tail, and turns up his large bright eyes to my face, as much as to say, "Pray let me stop here; it is so comfortable."
His mother was full grown when I had her, and she was very fierce: if any workman came to the house, unless her master or I was by to restrain her, she would put him in fear of his life; and would have bitten him too, if she could have seized him. We gave her away to a friend who would be kind to her, and keep her out of mischief; and we brought up a puppy for ourselves, this same Bronti.
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.
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.
There is a field near me, where I often go to walk; and a number of young sheep in it have taken such a fancy to Bronti, that when he stands still they will come almost close to him, the ram foremost, as if wishing to play with him; but if he goes towards them, off they trot, poor things, to the other end of the field.
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.
But no, Bronti, you must walk down, my fine fellow, or some lady coming to see me may have her gown soiled, which would not be fair. We have no right to make our pets a plague to other people, and, perhaps, a means of injuring them too. That was enough for Bronti; no need of a loud, cross, or threatening voice.
He soon began to bark like Fid, and to growl like Bronti; to cackle like the hens, and to imitate every loud noise that he heard. We hoped, if he had a good teacher, he would learn to sing, instead of making such a riot, as he whistles uncommonly well after his master. So we went to buy a Canary bird, and you may be sure we bought two; for it is very cruel to shut up a bird alone in a cage.
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