TRILBY 



By W. H. MARTYN 



We are alone, absolutely alone, on this 

 chance planet; amid all the forms of life 

 that 'surround us, not one, excepting the dog - , 

 has made an alliance with us. — Maeterlinck. 



OBODY knew 

 whence Trilby came 

 or who were his pro- 

 genitors. He hap- 

 pened into our lives 

 one summer morn- 

 ing when we were 

 at breakfast. A 

 shadow fell across the door to the sound 

 of a timid knocking. It was the sort 

 of a knock that a nervous young book 

 agent would give who had just begun 

 to realize that the dissemination of 

 moral and elevating volumes was not 

 likely to lead to the glorious and happy 

 career predicted to him by an enthusi- 

 astic sales-manager. But we were de- 

 termined to be inveigled into buying no 

 more unnecessary tomes. As it was, 

 the coffee-pot rested on a Webster dic- 

 tionary, and I reclined amid a subscrip- 

 tion set of the World's Best Books. 

 Billy, particularly annoyed at the per- 

 sistent refusal of editors to regard his 

 poems as worth printing, shouted 

 angrily : 



"Get out There's nothing doing." 

 We heard retreating steps and were 

 happy. 



A week later, at the same time, we 

 heard this hypothetical agent again ; 

 and Billy, feeling he owed him some re- 

 turn for his behavior of the last week, 

 determined to invite him in to have 

 coffee, asking us, at the same time, to 

 restrain him, by force if necessary, 

 from purchasing any book under any 

 condition whatsoever. I was nearer the 

 door than he, and when I reached it I 

 understood that the timid knocking 

 was caused by the gently wagging tail 

 of one of the biggest and yellowest 



dogs I have ever seen. He looked tip 

 in my face with big, honest eyes. 



"I am glad," said I, "to meet you 

 Will you come in and have some break- 

 fast?" 



He followed me in with perfect grav- 

 ity and sat down. Lorry, who dislikes 

 dogs on prejudices, which he miscalls 

 principles, was for the animal's ejec- 

 tion. Billy and I stood for him while 

 the Other Man was neutral. 



Trilby declined coffee, but accepted 

 some condensed milk and what was left 

 of the sausages. He seemed to eat with 

 considerable restraint ; and our later 

 knowledge of him convinces me that on 

 his first visit he was not far from star- 

 vation ; but he would not show it, al- 

 though he could have eaten everything 

 in the house, for, after all, Trilby was 

 a gentleman. 



We called him Trilby because his feet 

 were so noticeable, and in those days 

 Du Maurier was still remembered. 

 They were large, and there were two 

 toes missing from one of them, which 

 gave him a peculiar halting gait. In- 

 deed, to hear Trilby move reminded one 

 of a telegraphic instrument clicking out 

 three short taps and a long one. 



Trilby's coat was fine, and denoted 

 distinguished ancestry at a probably re- 

 mote period. He was the sort of dog 

 over whose parentage everyone can say 

 something true. Billy saw in him dis- 

 tinct traces of the Great Dane. We 

 agreed with Billy. Lorry fancied the 

 head was indicative of the English mas- 

 tiff, and we were fain to admit it. The 

 Other Man saw in his feet the dachs- 

 hund, and we could not conscientiously 

 say he was wrong. I was reminded as 



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