working ; for no man can lose in a crack the 

 friend of a dozen years and remain unmoved. 



The Venus lay there, her teeth' clenched still in 

 death ; smiling that her vengeance was achieved. 

 Big Rasper, blue no longer, was gasping out his 

 life. Two more came crawling out to find a quiet 

 spot where they might lay them down to die. 

 Before the night had fallen another had gone to 

 his account ; while not a dog who fought upon 

 that day but carried the scars of it to his grave. 

 The Terror o' th' Border, terrible in his life, like 

 Samson, was yet more terrible in his dying. 



* • • • 



Alfred Olivant. 



A Retriever's Epitaph <^ -^ ^> *^> 



DENEATH this turf, that formerly he pressed 

 *~* With agile feet, a Dog is laid to rest ; 

 Him, as he sleeps, no well-known sound shall stir, 

 The rabbit's patter or the pheasant's whirr ; 

 The keeper's " Over ! " — far, but well defined, 

 That speeds the startled partridge down the wind ; 

 The whistled warning, as the winged ones rise 

 Large and more large upon our straining eyes, 

 Till with a sweep, while every nerve is tense, 

 The chattering covey hurtles o'er the fence ; 

 The double crack of every lifted gun ; 

 The dinting thud of birds whose course is done — 



218 



