. St. Nicholas [serial]. ollars of honor. A dog who has rescued in perilous strifeA poor human creature, and saved him his life,Is counted thereafter a ward of the state,The charge of officials, from petty to bed and his board are forever assured;In health he is tended, in illness he s cured. A band of bright metal he wears round his throat,And pride of it shows in each hair of his feel it, you know it, you see that it s so,When you meet in the street, as you stroll toand fro,The dogs with their collars of honor. At Brest, should you go there, as I did one night,—T is a post
. St. Nicholas [serial]. ollars of honor. A dog who has rescued in perilous strifeA poor human creature, and saved him his life,Is counted thereafter a ward of the state,The charge of officials, from petty to bed and his board are forever assured;In health he is tended, in illness he s cured. A band of bright metal he wears round his throat,And pride of it shows in each hair of his feel it, you know it, you see that it s so,When you meet in the street, as you stroll toand fro,The dogs with their collars of honor. At Brest, should you go there, as I did one night,—T is a post of the navy and well worth a sight,—A Newfoundland dog you may happen to meet,A hero whose praises the sailors many he s rescued from tempest and wreckThat a grand decoration he wears at his hangs from his collar, and when it is seenHe is gravely saluted by each bold sentries do homage when trots up and down,Bejeweled, beribboned, this pride of the town,This dog with his collar of IN YEDDO BAY. By Jack London. Somewhere along Theater Street he had lostit. He remembered being hustled somewhatroughly on the bridge over one of the canalsthat cross that busy thoroughfare. Possiblysome slant-eyed, light-fingered pickpocket waseven then enjoying the fifty-odd yen his pursehad contained. And then again, he thought,he might have lost it himself, just lost it care-lessly. Hopelessly, and for the twentieth time, hesearched in all his pockets for the missing was not there. His hand lingered in hisempty hip-pocket, and he woefully regarded thevoluble and vociferous restaurant-keeper, whoinsanely clamored : Twenty-five sen! You paynow ! Twenty-five sen ! But my purse ! the boy said. I tell youI ve lost it somewhere. Whereupon the restaurant-keeper lifted hisarms indignantly and shrieked : Twenty-fivesen ! Twenty-five sen ! You pay now ! Quite a crowd had collected, and it wasgrowing embarrassing for Alf Davis. It was so ridiculous and petty
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Keywords: ., bookauthordodgemar, bookcentury1800, bookdecade1870, bookyear1873
