Arthur Hamilton, and His Dog
CHAPTER I. LEAVING HOME. One pleasant October evening, Arthur Hamilton was at play in front of the small, brown cottage in which he lived. He and his brother James, were having a great frolic with a large spotted dog, who was performing a great variety of antics, such as only well-educated dogs understand. But Rover had been carefully initiated into the mysteries of making a bow while standing on his hind legs, tossing pieces of bread off his nose, putting up his fore-paws with a most imploring look, and piteous whine, which the boys called "begging for money," and when a chip had been given him, he uttered a most energetic bow-wow-wow, which they regarded as equivalent to "thank you, sir," and walked off. While they were thus amusing themselves, their mother was sitting on the rude piazza which ran along the front of the cottage, now looking at the merry children, and then thoughtfully gazing at the long shadows which were stretching across the road. Mrs. Hamilton was a woman of wonderful strength, and energy, both of body and mind; and she had been sustained
for the wheat and for the barley; for the harvest of the
field has perished.
001:012 The vine has dried up, and the fig tree withered;
the pomegranate tree, the palm tree also, and the apple tree,
even all of the trees of the field are withered; for joy has
withered away from the sons of men.
001:013 Put on sackcloth and mourn, you priests! Wail, you ministers
of the altar. Come, lie all night in sackcloth, you ministers
of my God, for the meal offering and the drink offering are
withheld from your God's house.
001:014 Sanctify a fast. Call a solemn assembly. Gather the elders,
and all the inhabitants of the land, to the house of Yahweh,
your God, and cry to Yahweh.
001:015 Alas for the day! For the day of Yahweh is at hand, and it
will come as destruction from the Almighty.
001:016 Isn't the food cut off before our eyes; joy and gladness
from the house of our God?
001:017 The seeds rot under their clods. The granaries are laid desolate.
The barns are broken down, for the grain has withered.
001:018 How the animals groan! The herds of livestock are perplexed,
because they have no pasture. Yes, the flocks of sheep
are made desolate.
001:019 Yahweh, I cry to you, For the fire has devoured the pastures
of the wilderness, and the flame has burned all the trees
of the field.
CHAPTER I. LEAVING HOME. One pleasant October evening, Arthur Hamilton was at play in front of the small, brown cottage in which he lived. He and his brother James, were having a great frolic with a large spotted dog, who was performing a great variety of antics, such as only well-educated dogs understand. But Rover had been carefully initiated into the mysteries of making a bow while standing on his hind legs, tossing pieces of bread off his nose, putting up his fore-paws with a most imploring look, and piteous whine, which the boys called "begging for money," and when a chip had been given him, he uttered a most energetic bow-wow-wow, which they regarded as equivalent to "thank you, sir," and walked off. While they were thus amusing themselves, their mother was sitting on the rude piazza which ran along the front of the cottage, now looking at the merry children, and then thoughtfully gazing at the long shadows which were stretching across the road. Mrs. Hamilton was a woman of wonderful strength, and energy, both of body and mind; and she had been sustained