Little Byron 165 



with a gay party on their way to the steamer, came 

 along. The driver saw the helpless creature lying 

 there in his way, but did not turn aside his horses 

 or stop to avoid an accident. Byron's head was 

 almost under the heavy wheel; in another instant it 

 would be crushed. 



A slight movement on the part of the little 

 fellow, struggling blindly just before the wheel, saved 

 his life ; but one of the silken ears, that had been so 

 often stroked by white and jewelled hands, was 

 caught and crushed against the pavement. He lay 

 there in hopeless agony and despair, the victim of a 

 cruel and relentless fate which seemed bent on heap- 

 ing every possible evil on his head. Yet he had 

 never done a wicked, a treacherous, or a cruel act. 

 He had been gentle, loving, and faithful, even when 

 slighted and abused. 



A few moments before, a gentleman had noticed 

 the friendless little dog, and had stopped to speak 

 kindly to him, and even stroked his head ; but, like 

 many well-disposed persons, he had passed on with- 

 out thinking further of his needs or helping him in 

 any way. But when he saw that the carriage had 



