126 WHERE ROLLS THE OREGON 



whistles, a little fox-terrier and a dog, a pa- 

 thetic bundle of dog that might once, far back, 

 have been part bull, or something. But the little 

 terrier, and his companion, the mill-ends mongrel, 

 the latter domesticated into something hardly dog, 

 still had enough of the wild in them to join the 

 pack and run their little domesticated legs almost 

 off in order to be in at the kill. " Out of unhand- 

 seled savage nature, out of terrible Druids and 

 Berserkers, come at last Alfred and Shakespeare," 

 says Emerson. Out of the wolf at last has come 

 this little terrier and the mongrel; but never out 

 of them will wholly be eradicated the savage and 

 terrible wolf. 



Out of the wild boar, too, have come all the 

 varieties of our domestic hogs, and just as the wild 

 boar's progeny are born to-day with longitudinal 

 stripes on their bodies, reverting to some striped 

 ancestor of the far past, so a litter of prize Chester 

 Whites, with pink spots on their cultivated faces 

 where the wild boar's snout used to extend, hark 

 back to the grizzled, tusked old sire of the forest 

 in so many of their pig ways as quite to bridge 

 the gap of their sojourn in parlor and pen. 



None of our domestic animals is milder-eyed 



