264 THE HOME OF A NATURALIST. 



take his place. A low piteous howl burst from him, 

 and our poor old friend slunk away and meekly took 

 up his abode in the kitchen. Until that time he had 

 resented with much spirit all attempts at making an 

 invalid, or old person, of him, but after Pirate's arrival 

 (and indeed it was too true he had come to be the 

 house-dog, though Slop's place could never be filled by 

 man or dog) Slop never came to sleep under the big 

 chair, but accepted instead the cozy bed we prepared 

 by the kitchen fire, and in many ways plainly told us 

 that he accepted the fate of all living with the patience 

 of a philosopher. As old age crept on he became 

 unable to take long walks, but still he would not allow 

 the Pilgrims to go out without escorting them a part 

 of the way. Then we would say, " Poor Slop is tired. 

 Slop had better go home again." 



He would look regretfully in our faces, but took the 

 hint kindly, as it was meant, and would quietly return 

 to the house — not without often pausing to cast a 

 wistful glance after us, who, to tell the truth, were 

 often moved to tears at the change which had come 

 over our cherished companion. We were only begin- 

 ning to realise what it was to live and enjoy life, and 

 he was passing away. Yet we had begun the journey 

 together. It seemed hard. 



One evening he came out as usual " to follow " us a 

 little way, but the Pilgrims were grown up, and other 

 escort were waiting to watch over our path. Slop 

 looked at the young gentlemen, then at us. After 

 that he licked our hands pitifully, and his mournful 



