P.W._ 161
In Memory of "Don" _M.S.W._ 162
Roderick Dhu _Helen Fitzgerald Sanders_ 164
Questions _William Hurrell Mallock_ 166
His Epitaph _William Watson_ 167
In Memoriam _Henry Willett_ 168
Questions _Oliver Wendell Holmes_ 170
Our Dog Jock _James Payn_ 171
Tory, a Puppy _Mortimer Collins_ 172
On an Irish Retriever _Fanny Kemble Butler_ 173
A Retriever's Epitaph _Robert C. Lehmann_ 174
PART I
PUPPYHOOD
_"What other nature yours than of a child
Whose dumbness finds a voice mighty to call,
In wordless pity, to the souls of all,
Whose lives I turn to profit, and whose mute
And constant friendship links the man and brute?"_
THE DOG'S BOOK OF VERSE
WE MEET AT MORN
Still half in dream, upon the stair I hear
A patter coming nearer and more near,
And then upon my chamber door
A gentle tapping,
For dogs, though proud, are poor,
And if a tail will do to give command
Why use a hand?
And after that a cry, half sneeze, half yapping,
And next a scuffle on the passage floor,
And then I know the creature lies to watch
Until the noiseless maid will lift the latch.
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