234 AROUND AN OLD HOMESTEAD. 



body of Hector, in the dust. I know of one old shep- 

 herd who could, so runs tradition, snap the head off 

 from a snake by a single shake. But dogs are very 

 wary, and always see to it that they catch the snake by 

 the tail. One of a dog's chief delights in the country 

 is to dig out the moles in the garden. There is noth- 

 ing, however, a dog likes so much as to get after a cat. 

 Both seem to enjoy the sport. The dog, with all his 

 tremendous onslaught, will only approach within just 

 a certain distance, when he will lie down and paw at 

 her with one forepaw, or eye her intently and wag his 

 tail vigorously and bark. When, all of a sudden, spit 

 and spit fire, and she arches her back and growls and 

 snarls, and up he is like a flash, scared but eager for 

 the fray; and so they will often keep it up for half a 

 day. Yet I have seen cats and dogs thoroughly fond 

 of one another, the cat even lying down and sleeping 

 against a dog, and resting her head down in among 

 his thick, glossy coat of hair. Assuredly, they had 

 cast aside the law of tooth and ravine. 



Dogs apparently calculate and judge just about as 

 we do in similar circumstances. They reach conclusions 

 pretty rapidly sometimes, just where and when to jump 

 or pounce after a rat or a mole or a rabbit, and, so 

 far as their life goes, it seems to me that it is precisely 

 like our life. 



III. 



'* There is but one drawback to a dog's friendship. It does not last 

 longr enough." 



— Henry van Dyke. 



Not long since I owned a very intelligent fox ter- 

 rier, by name McChesney. He was a little four-footed 

 friend whom I loved, and who loved me. We took 



