SOME THOUGHTS ABOUT MY DOG. 235 



walks together in the woods and the sweet grass, and 

 he romped and leaped in health and joy and friendship. 

 But one morning a few springs ago he darted away 

 from the house for a few moments, never to be seen 

 again by me since then. How long it was before I 

 regained spirits at the loss of the beautiful little fellow 

 I do not know; but I shall never forget him, for I 

 have found few men like him. All that is left of 

 Mac now is an old newspaper advertisement for him, 

 two scratches on the hardwood floor, his collar, and 

 a loving and inspiring memory. I have wondered 

 whether I am never to see this best and most loyal of 

 earthly friends again. Shall we not look into each 

 other's eyes once more? 



Some of the happiest experiences in my life have 

 been in the woods with him. He would always dart 

 away ahead of me deep into the woods, only to peep 

 suddenly above some little knoll to see if I were still 

 coming; or, if he caught the scent of a rabbit and 

 rushed away with a little yelp, it was not long before 

 he would be dashing past me again, as I walked on, 

 or, if I sat on a log for a short rest, would come to 

 me with wagging tail and look up to me with a gulp of 

 friendliness. 



Little Mac has become to me a symbol — a symbol 

 of fidelity, trust, loyalty, love, and the innate beauty 

 and purity of life. Often has he lain in my lap and 

 looked up at me with wagging tail, or has sat there 

 and looked straight into my eyes, and when I would 

 lean my head on my hand often has he laid his little 

 black-and-tan head next to mine, on my hand, in mute 

 affection. Yes ! my little four-footed friend, I have 



