USEFUL INFORMATION REGARDING DOGS. 265 



brute nature cannot be wholly bad though public sentiment may make he 

 or she a criminal. 



"All animals are God's creatures with an intelligence a little lower than 

 our own; they are moreover dumb and helpless and should appeal to every 

 noble-hearted person for protection. The curse of the world is heartless- 

 ness, selfishness and cruelty. 



"Animals are God's object-lessons, and the only object-lesson in Na- 

 ture into which he has breathed the breath of life." 



Sir Walter Scott's eulogy: "The Almighty, Who gave the dog to be 

 the companion of our pleasures and our toils, hath invested him with a 

 nature noble and incapable of deceit. He forgets neither friend nor foe, 

 remembers with accuracy both benefit and injury, and hath a share of 

 man's intelligence but no share of man's falsehood." Not only have poets 

 honored and glorified the courage, patience and fidelity of dogs, but the 

 world's greatest artists have portrayed their humility and affection. There is 

 also positive proof that in the Pharaonic age, nearly sixty centuries ago, 

 dogs were the companions and friends of kings, and each had a name of its 

 own, and this at a period when only those whose personality was recognized 

 were ever given a name. 



PATHOS 



This gem, pathetic and beautiful, was in my last book, and is too good 

 to be left out of this. 



Mr. H. G. Jeffrey, of the Fifth Mounted Infantry, stationed at the Mod- 

 der River, Cape Colony, sends Our Dogs the following interesting and pa- 

 thetic account of the return home of the Boers after the war: 



"Peace has come at last. Mothers, both English and Dutch, have been 

 relieved of great anxiety; the daily searching of the papers, the terrible 

 uncertainty, is all over. Briton and Boer are now united; the latter are 

 now returning to their homes. 



"Let us accompany a young burgher who has escaped from the terrible 

 conflict. Go with him back to the old homestead beneath the 'kop,' on the 

 threshold of what was once his happy home — now nothing more than a 

 desolate ruin. He sits down on all that is left of the 'stoep,' lost in reverie. 

 He is fighting all his battles over again, thinking of those who had sat 

 on that same 'stoep' three years ago. The sun is just settling with that 

 gloriousness for which the African veldt alone is famous. The stillness is 

 more than he can bear, and he could almost weep for very loneliness. But 

 hark! He is not alone; softly a cold nose pushes itself into his hand, and 

 two wistful, loving eyes are upturned to his. 'Tis his old dog, a skeleton 

 of former days; too weak almost to stand, but who has remained faithfully 

 watching the old home, never expecting to hear his beloved master's voice 

 again. I know there are plenty of canine hearts and tongues left amongst 

 the ruined homesteads that will give a hearty welcome to their long-lost 

 masters." 



