232 AROUND AN OLD HOMESTEAD 



look of recognition and with eyes bright, only to calm 

 down considerably when he found who it was wear- 

 ing the coat. He had always liked me, but it was the 

 old coat which he had recognized, and I believe it had 

 brought back to him somehow the memory of his 

 master whom he had loved so well. Many instances 

 similar to this have come to my notice of the memory 

 of dogs. I have had a dog friend recognize me at 

 once after a long absence of months. I have seen a 

 dog pine and howl in dismal grief at the memory of 

 a dead master. Dogs are very human, after all. 

 Could they but tell us well, they could tell much! 

 I have had dogs come to me, and endeavor with the 

 most singular gulps and queer little sounds of the 

 throat to tell me (as I supposed) some tale of their 

 own, which I did not know. They can, and do, in- 

 dicate many things to us very readily by their actions, 

 but their physical make-up is such that they can not 

 tell us all they might. We can only judge them im- 

 perfectly by human analogy, and so do not know the 

 whole truth about them. They have, too, a range 

 of life which is all their own, and which we do not 

 experience. If we but had the keen scent of the dog, 

 the quick hearing of the deer, and the eyesight of the 

 eagle, what would we not enjoy in our walks through 

 the woods and meadows ! 



A man was watching my dog one day, and com- 

 menting upon his intelligence. "Well, sir," said he, 

 "they 're good companions, I tell you. I Ve never yet 

 seen one that was n't." And I could heartily agree 

 with him that, for the right man, there is no better 

 friend than a dog, nor one more appreciative of man's 



