Attached to a French command was a dog named Michael, which was a general favorite with the men. The dog, however, centered its particu1ar affections upon a young French soldier named Henri, who had been in the habit of sharing his ration of soup with the animal. One day an attack was made upon the enemy, and Henri did not return after the skirmish. The dog, missing his friend, darted off to the scene of conflict, and presently returned with a glove which he put down by some ambulance men. These set out in search of the wounded, and were led by the dog to where Henri lay, still and cold. Thinking that he was dead, they left him, to succor the living, but Michael refused to be convinced, and remained by his friend. Late that night, when comparative quiet had settled down upon the trenches, as the moon shone from behind a cloud, the sentinel saw something creeping slowly towards the trenches, and, advancing cautiously, with his rifle ready for use, saw to his surprise that the object of his caution was the dog Michael. But the animal was not alone. It was pulling away at a uniform torn by the dog’s teeth, which clothed the senseless body of Henri. The body had been literally dragged inch by inch from the field by the devoted animal. Henri was found to be still alive, and he ultimately recovered.
What wondrous love and devotion were shown by this dog to his master. How eagerly people acclaim the loving instinct of the creature! How lightly they esteem the One who made heaven and earth, and all that is therein—and then, in the world He had made, died to redeem mankind! He came to deliver us out of the hands of the enemy, and to take us out of the place of death, and give us a place with Himself in the endless life of heaven.