Do you remember the story of the old Viking who had been converted to
Christianity, and who, just as they were about, with much joy, to
baptize him, paused and asked: "But what--if this, as you tell me, is
the only way to the true Valhalla--what has become of my comrades, my
friends who are dead, who died in the old faith--where are they?"
The priests, confused, replied there could be no doubt those
unfortunate folk had gone to a place they would rather not mention.
"Then," said the old warrior, stepping back, "I will not be baptized.
I will go along with my own people."
He had lived with them, fought beside them; they were his people. He
would stand by them to the end--of eternity. Most assuredly, a very
shocking old Viking! But I think it might be worth while giving up
our civilization and our culture to get back to the days when they
made men like that.
The only reminder of such times that we have left us now, is the
bull-dog; and he is fast dying out--the pity of it! What a splendid
old dog he is! so grim, so silent, so stanch; so terrible, when he has
got his idea, of his duty clear before him; so absurdly meek, when it
is only himself that is concerned.
He is the gentlest, too, and the most lovable of all dogs. He does
not look it.
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