for the boy members of the family to visit 

 him there ceremonially. We were small boys 

 and the kennel was large. It was easy to creep 

 into it and to pass some happy moments in 

 intimate conversation with our black and 

 shaggy friend, who welcomed us effusively 

 and always treated us with a very high-bred 

 courtesy while we shared his room. If it was 

 possible we would then detach his chain with- 

 out his knowledge and make a rush for the 

 lawn. The result was always the same. There 

 was a thunder of pursuing feet, a black head 

 struck violently against a small boy's back, 

 and a small boy's body, having hurtled 

 through the air, thudded on the grass, to be 

 rolled over and over and pranced upon and 

 ruffled into a ruin of clothes by an enthu- 

 siastic dog. Poor old Neptune ! He had a 

 mournful end, for he was bitten by a mad 

 dog and had to be destroyed. Even now, at 

 a distance of half a century, I cannot bear to 

 think of our dreadful sorrow when, in spite 

 of our passionate protests, that tragedy was 



