1844-54. TO GRIM'S MEMORY. 363 



It is recorded of him that " he never said an ill word in his 

 life, except once when he cried ' Bow, bow,' after a man with 

 bowed legs." 



A note -book contains the following lines to his memory : 



TO THE SPIRIT OF A DECEASED TERRIER. 



My little dog ! I loved thee well, 



Better than I to all would tell ; 



When thou wert dead, a shadow o'er my spirit fell. 



The music of thy pattering feet 

 That came so gladly me to meet, 

 Will never more my senses greet. 



All are at rest ; thy wagging tail, 

 Thy little limbs that did not fail 

 For many a mile o'er hill and dale. 



Where art thou now ? myself I ask, 



In vain Philosophy I task ; 



She cannot here her blindness mask. 



Art thou within that Sirian star, 

 That shines so bright, and seems so far 

 From this dim world in which we are ? 



Where'er in the Universe thou art, 

 If still of it thou form'st a part, 

 Thou hast a place within my heart, 



What are thy thoughts, thy hopes, thy ways ? 

 What are thy duties ? what thy plays ? 

 How spendest thou the livelong days ? 



Thou didst not love on earth the Sunday, 



It was so grave : it was no fun-day ; 



Thou couldst have wished each day a Monday. 



Dost thou with soul of shadowy cat 

 Fight ? or with spectral spirit-rat ; 

 Or slumber on celestial mat ? 



After a time a successor to Grim was found, who seemed to 

 have so many of his ways, that it was declared his spirit had 

 returned in this new shape, and the dog was, on this account, 

 named Eedivivo, contracted into Vivo for ordinary use. It was 

 this dog that corresponded with the squirrel. His portrait is 

 given by George in a letter : " I wish you saw nay dog, a Skye 

 terrier, considered one of the finest of his kind, though some of 



