he should have been: 
    But the poor dog, in life the firmest friend,
    The first to welcome, foremost to defend,
    Whose honest heart is still his master’s own,
    Who labors, fights, lives, breathes for him alone,
    Unhonored falls, unnoticed all his worth,
    Denied in heaven the soul he held on earth.

* * * * *

Ye! who perchance behold this simple urn,
Pass on,—­it honors none you wish to mourn;
To mark a friend’s remains these stones arise;
I never knew but one,—­and here he lies.

LORD BYRON, 1808.

* * * * *

THE DOG.

    Poor friend and sport of man, like him unwise,
      Away!  Thou standest to his heart too near,
      Too close for careless rest or healthy cheer;
    Almost in thee the glad brute nature dies. 
    Go scour the fields in wilful enterprise,
      Lead the free chase, leap, plunge into the mere,
      Herd with thy fellows, stay no longer here,
    Seeking thy law and gospel in men’s eyes.

    He cannot go; love holds him fast to thee;
      More than the voices of his kind thy word
    Lives in his heart; for him thy very rod
    Has flowers:  he only in thy will is free. 
      Cast him not out, the unclaimed savage herd
    Would turn and rend him, pining for his God.

EMILY PFEIFFER.

* * * * *

JOHNNY’S PRIVATE ARGUMENT.

    A poor little tramp of a doggie, one day,
      Low-spirited, weary, and sad,
    From a crowd of rude urchins ran limping away,
      And followed a dear little lad. 
    Whose round, chubby face, with the merry eyes blue,
    Made doggie think, “Here is a good boy and true!”

    So, wagging his tail and expressing his views
      With a sort of affectionate whine,
    Johnny knew he was saying, “Dear boy, if you choose,
      To be any dog’s master, be mine.” 
    And Johnny’s blue eyes opened wide with delight,
    And he fondled the doggie and hugged him so tight.

    But alas! on a day that to Johnny was sad,
      A newspaper notice he read,
    “Lost a dog:  limped a little, and also he had
      A spot on the top of his head. 
    Whoever returns him to me may believe
    A fair compensation he’ll surely receive.”

    Johnny didn’t want money, not he; ’twasn’t that
      That made him just sit down to think,
    And made a grave look on his rosy face fat,
      And made those blue eyes of his wink
    To keep back the tears that were ready to flow,
    As he thought to himself, “Must the dear doggie go?”