those of Oscar, as Oscar was inferior to him in strength and power. It is impossible to conceive a more tender meeting than this was; but Duncan soon observed that hunger and misery were painted in his friend’s looks, which again pierced his heart with feelings unfelt before.—‘I have not a crumb to give you, my poor Oscar!’ said he—‘I have not a crumb to eat myself, but I am not so ill as you are.’ The peasant whistled aloud. Oscar well knew the sound, and clinging to the boy’s bosom, leaned his head upon his thigh, and looked in his face, as if saying, ‘O Duncan, protect me from yon ruffian.’ The whistlo was repeated, accompanied by a loud and surly call. Oscar trembled, but fearing to disobey, he limped away reluctantly after his unfeeling master, and who observing him to linger and look back, imagined he wanted to effect his escape, and came running back to meet him. Oscar cowered to the earth in the most submissive and imploring manner, but the peasant laid hold of him by the ear and uttering many imprecations, struck him with a thick staff till he lay senseless at his feet.
Every possiblo circumstance seemed combined to wound the feelings of poor Duncan, but this unmerited barbarity shocked him most of all. He hasted to the scene of action, weeping bitterly, and telling the man that he was a cruel brute, and that if ever he himself grew a big man he would certainly kill him. He held up his favourite’s head that he might recover his breath, and the man knowing that he could do little without the assistance of his dog, waited patiently to see what would be the issue. The animal recovered, and stammered away at the heels of his tyrant, without daring to look behind him, Duncan stood still, but kept
