LITERARY TREATMENT OF NATURE 



a matter of fact, the dog is not compelled "in less 

 than five or six weeks to get into his mind, taking 

 shape within it, an image and a satisfactory concep-' 

 tion of the universe." No, nor in five or six years. 

 Strictly speaking, he is not capable of conceptions at 

 all, but only of sense impressions; his sure guide is 

 instinct — not blundering reason. The dog starts 

 with a fund of knowledge, which man acquires 

 slowly and painfully. But all this does not trouble 

 one in reading of Maeterlinck's dog. Our interest is 

 awakened, and our sympathies are moved, by seeing 

 the world presented to the dog as it presents itself 

 to us, or by putting ourselves in the dog's place. It 

 is not false natural history, it is a fund of true 

 human sentiment awakened by the contemplation 

 of the dog's life and character. 



Maeterlinck does not ascribe human powers and 

 capacities to his dumb friend, the dog; he has no 

 incredible tales of its sagacity and wit to relate; it is 

 only an ordinary bull pup that he describes, but he 

 makes us love it, and, through it, all other dogs, by 

 his loving analysis of its trials and tribulations, and 

 its devotion to its god, man. In like manner, in John 

 Muir's story of his dog Stickeen, — a story to go 

 with Rab and his Friends," — our credulity is 

 not once challenged. Our sympathies are deeply 

 moved because our reason is not in the least out- 

 raged. It is true that Muir makes his dog act like a 

 human being under the press of great danger; but 

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