And each morning the sun’s rays shone through the one little window of
the grandfather’s house upon the quiet child. The daughters of the sunbeam
kissed him; they wished to thaw, and melt, and obliterate the ice kiss which
the queenly maiden of the glaciers had given him as he lay in the lap of his
dead mother, in the deep crevasse of ice from which he had been so
wonderfully rescued.
II. The Journey to the New Home
Rudy was just eight years old, when his uncle, who lived on the other
side of the mountain, wished to have the boy, as he thought he might obtain
a better education with him, and learn something more. His grandfather
thought the same, so he consented to let him go. Rudy had many to say
farewell to, as well as his grandfather. First, there was Ajola, the old dog.
“Your father was the postilion, and I was the postilion’s dog,” said Ajola.
“We have often travelled the same journey together; I knew all the dogs and
men on this side of the mountain. It is not my habit to talk much; but now
that we have so little time to converse together, I will say something more
than usual. I will relate to you a story, which I have reflected upon for a
long time. I do not understand it, and very likely you will not, but that is of
no consequence. I have, however, learnt from it that in this world things are
not equally divided, neither for dogs nor for men. All are not born to lie on
the lap and to drink milk: I have never been petted in this way, but I have
seen a little dog seated in the place of a gentleman or lady, and travelling
inside a post-chaise. The lady, who was his mistress, or of whom he was
master, carried a bottle of milk, of which the little dog now and then drank;
she also offered him pieces of sugar to crunch. He sniffed at them proudly,
but would not eat one, so she ate them herself. I was running along the dirty
road by the side of the carriage as hungry as a dog could be, chewing the
cud of my own thoughts, which were rather in confusion. But many other
things seemed in confusion also. Why was not I lying on a lap and travelling
in a coach? I could not tell; yet I knew I could not alter my own condition,
either by barking or growling.”
