IN THE WRONG, LATTERLY. 417 



We had often seen dogs without tails, but previous 

 to this had always supposed that a depraved human 

 taste, not nature, was at the root of it. Tail- 

 wagging we had considered as much the born pre- 

 rogative of a dog as a laugh is that of man. It is 

 true some men do not laugh, but the child did. A 

 dog's tail embodies his laughing faculty, or rather 

 one might call it a canine thermometer. It rises and 

 falls with his feelings, in moments of depression go- 

 ing down to zero between his legs, and again rising 

 when the canine temperature becomes more even. 



" That thar dorg, stranger, is of the shed-tail 

 variety," said its owner, when we solicited infor- 

 mation. " Whole litter had nothin' but stumps. 

 Killed most on 'em off, 'cause, havin' nothin' to wag, 

 visitin' people could n't tell whether they was goin' 

 to bite, or be pleased. Some time ago, a travelin' 

 school-teacher giv' him a plaguy Latin name, but we 

 call him Shed, for short. He knows, just as well as 

 you and I, that he 's in the wrong, latterly, and as 

 soon as you look at him, or touch where the tail 

 ought ter be, he hides and howls. He 's sensitive as 

 a human." 



Saying this, our new acquaintance leaned over the 

 dog, which was lying asleep, and gave the animal 

 what he called a " latterly touch." Although it was 

 but the gentle contact of a finger tip, the poor 

 creature jumped up, uttered a dismal howl, and fled 

 off among the wagons. 



" That dorg," continued the owner, " would be one 



of the best critters out, if it was n't for his short cut. 

 23 



