engross oneself on something that lies to the lee of danger, it allays suspicion.  Or if one absorb oneself upon the flora—­a primrose on the river’s brim—­it shows him clear and stainless.  The stupidest dog should see that so close a student can have no evil in him.  Perhaps it would be better to throw away one’s stick lest it make a show of violence.  Or it may be concealed along the outer leg.  Ministers of Grace defend us, what an excitement in the barnyard!  Has virtue no reward?  Shall innocence perish off the earth?  Not one dog, but many, come running out.  There has gone a rumor about the barn that there is a stranger to be eaten, and it’s likely—­if they keep their clamor—­there will be a bone for each.  Note how the valor oozes from the man of peace!  Observe his sidling gait, his skirts pulled close, his hollowed back, his head bent across his shoulder, his startled eye!  Watch him mince his steps, lest a lingering heel be nipped!  Listen to him try the foremost dog with names, to gull him to a belief that they have met before in happier circumstances!  He appeals mutely to the farmhouse that a recall be sounded.  The windows are tightly curtained.  The heavens are comfortless.

You remember the fellow in the play who would have loved war had they not digged villainous saltpetre from the harmless earth.  The countryside, too, in my opinion, would be more peaceful of a summer afternoon were it not overrun with dogs.  Let me be plain!  I myself like dogs—­sleepy dogs blinking in the firelight, friendly dogs with wagging tails, young dogs in their first puppyhood with their teeth scarce sprouted, whose jaws have not yet burgeoned into danger, and old dogs, too, who sun themselves and give forth hollow, toothless, reassuring sounds.  When a dog assumes the cozy habits of the cat without laying off his nobler nature, he is my friend.  A dog of vegetarian aspect pleases me.  Let him bear a mild eye as though he were nourished on the softer foods!  I would wish every dog to have a full complement of tail.  It’s the sure barometer of his warm regard.  There’s no art to find his mind’s construction in the face.  And I would have him with not too much curiosity.  It’s a quality that brings him too often to the gate.  It makes him prone to sniff when one sits upon a visit.  Nor do I like dogs addicted to sudden excitement.  Lethargy becomes them better.  Let them be without the Gallic graces!  In general, I like a dog to whom I have been properly introduced, with an exchange of credentials.  While the dog is by, let his master take my hand and address me in softest tones, to cement the understanding!  At bench-shows I love the beasts, although I keep to the middle of the aisle.  The streets are all the safer when so many of the creatures are kept within.