he had been regularly fed by MrTrail, who keeps a restaurant close by. Bobby is regular in his calls,being guided by the mid-day gun. On the occasion of the new dog-taxbeing raised, many persons, the writer amongst the number, wrote to beallowed to pay for Bobby, but the Lord Provost of Edinburgh exemptedhim, and, to mark his admiration of fidelity, presented him with ahandsome collar, with brass nails, and an inscription:--`Greyfriars'Bobby, presented to him by the Lord Provost of Edinburgh, 1867.' He haslong been an object of curiosity, and his constant appearance in thegraveyard has led to numberless inquiries about him. Many efforts havebeen made to entice him away, but unsuccessfully, and he still clings tothe consecrated spot, and from 1861 to the present time he has keptwatch thereon. Upon his melancholy couch Bobby hears the bells toll theapproach of new inmates to the sepulchres around and about him; and asthe procession solemnly passes, who shall say that the ceremony enactedover his dead master does not reappear before him? He sees the sobs andtears of the bereaved, and do not these remind him of the day when hestood with other mourners over the coffin which contained everything heloved on earth? In that clerical voice he rehears those slow andimpressive tones which consigned his master's body to ashes and dust.All these reminiscences are surely felt more or less; and yet Bobby,trustful, patient, enduring, continues to wait on the spot sacred to thememory of poor Grey. Poor Grey, did we say? Why, hundreds of thewealthiest amongst us would give a fortune to have placed upon theirtombs a living monument of honour like this!--testifying through longyears and the bitterest winters (with a blessed moral for mankind) thatdeath cannot dissolve that love which love alone can evoke. When oureye runs over the gravestone records of departed goodness, we aresometimes sceptical whether there is not much mockery in many of theinscriptions, though the friends of the deceased have charitably erectedan outward mark of their esteem. But here we have a monument that knowsneither hypocrisy nor conventional respect, which appeals to us not inmarble (the work of men's hands), but in the flesh and blood of _aliving creature that cannot be tempted to desert his trust_--in thedevotion of a friend whose short wanderings to and fro prove how trulyhe gravitates to one yard of earth only--in the determination of asentinel _who means to die at his post_.
"I hear they say 'tis very lung That years hae come and gane, Sin' first they put my maister here, An' grat an' left him lane. I could na, an' I did na gang, For a' they vexed me sair, An' said sae bauld that they nor Should ever see him mair.
"I ken he's near me a' the while, An' I will see him yet; For a' my life he tended me. An' noo he'll not forget. Some blithesome day I'll hear his step; There'll be nae kindred near; For a' they grat, they gaed awa',-- But he shall find _me_ here.
"Is time sae lang?--I dinna mind; Is't cauld?--I canna feel; He's near me, and he'll come to me, An' sae 'tis very weel. I thank ye a' that are sae kind, As feed an' mak me braw; Ye're unco gude, but ye're no _him_-- Ye'll no wile me awa'.
"I'll bide an' hope!--Do ye the same; For ance I heard that ye Had ay a Master that ye loo'd, An' yet ye might na see; A Master, too, that car'd for ye, (O, sure ye winna flee!) That's wearying to see ye noo--. Ye'll no be waur than me?"
In the above account the words which I have italicised should be noted,viz, "a living creature that cannot be tempted to desert his trust, whomeans to die at his post." These words were in a sense prophetic, forBobby never did desert the graveyard where his master's remains lieburied, until death stepped in to relieve his sorrows.
The following interesting letter is from Bobby's guardian, Mr Trail, ofGreyfriars Place, Edinburgh, who will, I feel sure, pardon the liberty Itake in publishing it _in extenso_:--
"In answer to your note in reference to Greyfriars Bobby, I send thefollowing extracts which state correctly the dates and other particularsconcerning the little dog:--"
_Scotsman_, January 17th, 1872:--Many will be sorry to hear that thepoor but interesting dog, Greyfriars Bobby, died on Sunday evening,January 14th, 1872. Every kind attention was paid to him in his lastdays by his guardian Mr Trail, who has had him buried in a flower plotnear the Greyfriars Church. His collar, a gift from Lord ProvostChambers, has been deposited in the office at the church gate. MrBrodie has successfully modelled the figure of Greyfriars Bobby, whichis to surmount the very handsome memorial to be erected by themunificence of Baroness Burdett-Coutts.
"`Edinburgh Veterinary College, _March_, 1872.
"`To those who may feel interested in the history of the late Greyfriars Bobby, I may state that he suffered from disease of a cancerous nature affecting the whole of the lower jaw.
"`Thomas Wallet.
"`Professor of Animal Pathology.'
"There are several notices of an interesting nature in the followingnumbers of the _Animal World_ concerning Greyfriars Bobby:--November1st, 1869; May 2nd, 1870; February 1st, 1872; March 2nd, 1874.
"The fountain is erected at the end of George the Fourth Bridge, nearthe entrance to the Greyfriars churchyard. It is of Westmorelandgranite, and bears the following inscription:--`A tribute to theaffectionate fidelity of Greyfriars Bobby.'
"In 1858, this faithful dog followed the remains of his master toGreyfriars churchyard, and lingered near the spot until his death in1872. Old James Brown died in the autumn of 1868. There is notombstone on the grave of Bobby's master. Greyfriars Bobby was buriedin the flower plot near the stained-glass window of the church, andopposite the gate."
Poor Bobby, then, passed away on a Sunday evening, after watching nearthe grave for fourteen long years. He died of a cancerous affection ofthe lower jaw, brought on, doubtless, from the constant resting of hischin on the cold earth. I trust he did not suffer much. I feelconvinced that Bobby is happy now; but no stone marks the humble gravewhere Bobby's master lies. I wish it were otherwise, for surely theremust have been good in the breast of that man whom a dog loved sodearly, and to whose memory he was faithful to the end.
The picture of Greyfriars Bobby here given is said to be a very goodone, see page 239. You can hardly look at that wistful, pitiful littlecountenance, all rough and unkempt as it is, without _feeling_ the wholetruth of the story of Bobby's faithfulness and love.
"Ah!" said Frank, when I had finished, "dogs are wonderful creatures."
"No one knows how wonderful, Frank," I said. "By the way, did ever youhear of, or read the account of, poor young Gough and his dog? Thedog's master perished while attempting to climb the mountain ofHelvellyn. There had been a fall of snow, which partly hid the path andmade the ascent dangerous. It was never known whether he was killed bya fall or died of hunger. Three months went by before his body wasfound, during which time it was watched over by a faithful dog which MrGough had with him at the time of the accident. The fidelity of the dogwas the subject of a poem which Wordsworth wrote, beginning:--
"`A barking sound the shepherd hears,' etc.
"And now, Ida, I'll change the tone of my chapter into a less dolefulditty, and tell you about another Scotch, or rather Skye-terrier, whowas the means, in the hands of Providence, of saving life in a somewhatremarkable manner. Though I give the story partly in my own words, itwas communicated to me by a lady of rank, who is willing to vouch forthe authenticity of the incident."
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"PEPPER."
Pepper was our hero's name. And Pepper was a dog; but I am unable totell you anything about his birth or pedigree. I do not even know whoPepper's father was, and I don't think Pepper knew himself or cared mucheither; but had you seen him you would have had no hesitation inpronouncing him one of the handsomest little Skye-terriers ever you hadbeheld.
Pepper was presented to his mistress, the Hon. Mrs C--, by hermother-in-law, the late Lady Dun D--, and soon became a great favouriteboth with her and all the family. He was so cleanly in his habits, sobrave and knightly, so very polite, and had a happy mixture o
f drolleryand decorum about him which was quite charming! Every one liked Pepper.But "liked" is really not the proper word to express the strongaffection which the lady portion of the household felt for him. Theyloved Pepper. That's better. He was to them the "dearest and bestfellow" in the world.
But woe is me that the best of friends must part. And so it came topass that Pepper's loving mistress had to go to town on business, orpleasure, or perhaps a mixture of both.
Now, everybody knows that the great wondrous world of London isn't theplace to keep dogs in, that is, if one wishes to see them truly happyand comfortable. For as they don't wear shoes, as human
Aileen Aroon, A Memoir Page 35