Littell's Living Age/Volume 134/Issue 1727/The Dog of the Barracks

From The Leisure Hour.

THE DOG OF THE BARRACKS.

From a French correspondent we have the following: — We had for several years a fine dog, named Tarquin. Since his death he was always called Tarquin l'Ancien, to distinguish him from his successor, who, from his great beauty, we had named Tarquin le Superb. The first Tarquin was born and brought up in an artillery barrack. He was caressed, played with, teased, amused by all the soldiers, his daily companions, who, as all know, in their amusements are like big children. His master, a sergeant-major, having completed his term of military service, returned to his home at Nancy, and there sold the young dog to my father. Tarquin led a happy life with us, was caressed, and certainly was better fed than he had been in the barrack. Still, he had a clinging fondness for the companions of his youth, the artillerymen; and although there were then no artillery in garrison at Nancy, every time that by chance an artillery soldier passed through the town, down our street, the poor dog rushed forth and affectionately caressed him, to the soldier's great astonishment, who, at first, did not know what to make of his rude gratulations. My father would, from the window, call the soldier in, offer him a glass of wine, and recount to him Tarquin's birth and bringing up in an artillery barrack.

There were sapeurs-pompiers at Nancy, wearing the same uniform, black trousers, with a double red stripe, the only difference being that, en grande tenue, the pompiers had a brass helmet, and the artillery a shako, but on ordinary occasions the uniform was the same for both. However much we might be deceived by the similarity of their uniform, the good Tarquin, who could not read the number of their regiment on the artillerymen's buttons, as we could, always discerned the difference. That was certainly very singular; perhaps the cloth of their garments was of different manufacture. Something must have struck a dog's sense, or instinct, not noticeable to us, his superiors in knowledge.

Tarquin often acted as our commissionnaire. My mother, sometimes feeling lonely, wished to see my grandfather, and would call Tarquin, fastening a small missive to his collar, then open the door and say to him. "Va, chercher grand-pere." At the end of a quarter of an hour Tarquin reappeared escorting him.L. H..