A Boy and a Dog 



the animal world is as cruel a pro- 

 ceeding as the slow murder of a sky- 

 lark behind steel wires. Life in each 

 case, while it lasts, is indeed a ghastly 

 failure. 



The lot of a country-bred man or 

 woman trying to be happy between two 

 brick walls in a city flat is bad enough. 

 But commonly they could escape from 

 an imprisonment, often self-imposed, 

 if they only would. Frequently they 

 hold within their own grasp the key 

 that would unlock the bars. Not 

 always, to be sure; and when fate 

 ordains that they shall never more 

 regain touch with the out-of-doors, 

 then indeed is the case pathetic beyond 

 any parallel to be drawn from the 

 brute creation. 



I once knew a boy who at sixteen 

 years of age was captured and trans- 

 ported from gardens and apple orchards 

 to a hall bedroom in a boarding house 

 that once stood one city block from 

 where the Blackstone now rears its 



