from her chair, without a moment's warning, the huge animal dashed past
the attendants, seized his beautiful mistress in his mouth, and before
anyone could stop him, bore her off to the mountains. By the time the
alarm was sounded, darkness had fallen over the valley and as the night
was cloudy no trace could be found of the dog and his fair burden.

Once more the frantic father left no stone unturned to save his
daughter. Huge rewards were offered, bands of woodmen scoured the
mountains high and low, but, alas, no sign of the girl could be found!
The unfortunate father gave up the search and began to prepare himself
for the grave. There was nothing now left in life that he cared
for--nothing but thoughts of his departed daughter. Honeysuckle was gone
for ever.

"Alas!" said he, quoting the lines of a famous poet who had fallen into
despair:


"My whiting hair would make an endless rope,
Yet would not measure all my depth of woe."


Several long years passed by; years of sorrow for the ageing man, pining
for his departed daughter. One beautiful October day he was sitting in
the very same pavilion where he had so often sat with his darling. His
head was bowed forward on his breast, his forehead was lined with grief.
A rustling of leaves attracted his attention. He looked up. Standing
directly in front of him was Dr. Dog, and lo, riding on his back,
clinging to the animal's shaggy hair, was Honeysuckle, his long-lost
daughter; while standing near by were three of the handsomest boys he