Memories . eam of subject-ing hini to this indignity. Was our dog aclown, a hobby, a fad, a fashion, a feather inour caps—that we should subject him toperiodic pennings in stuffy halls, that we should 51 MEMORIES harry his faithful soul with such tomfoolery ?He never even heard us talk about his lineage,deplore the length of his nose, or call him clever-looking. We should have beenashamed to let him smell about us the tar-brushof a sense of property, to let him think welooked on him as an asset to earn us pelf orglory. We wished that there should be betweenus the spirit that was between the sh
Memories . eam of subject-ing hini to this indignity. Was our dog aclown, a hobby, a fad, a fashion, a feather inour caps—that we should subject him toperiodic pennings in stuffy halls, that we should 51 MEMORIES harry his faithful soul with such tomfoolery ?He never even heard us talk about his lineage,deplore the length of his nose, or call him clever-looking. We should have beenashamed to let him smell about us the tar-brushof a sense of property, to let him think welooked on him as an asset to earn us pelf orglory. We wished that there should be betweenus the spirit that was between the sheep-dogand that farmer, who, when asked his dogs age,touched the old creatures head, and answeredthus: Teresa (his daughter) was born inNovember, and this one in August. Thatsheep-dog had seen eighteen years when thegreat white day came for him, and his spiritpassed away up, to cling with the wood-smokeround the dark rafters of the kitchen where hehad lain so vast a time beside his masters boots. 52 #r^*^. X.^_ JU d^i. CjAjLire^ ^ ~^ ?^aAl*<J~J^^^^^rrac^tu^^.^ MEMORIES No, no ! If a man does not soon pass beyondthe thought: By what shall this dog profitme? into the large state of simple gladness tobe with dog, he shall never know the veryessence of that companionship which dependsnot on the points of dog, but on some strangeand subtle mingling of mute spirits. For it isby muteness that a dog becomes for one soutterly beyond value ; with him one is atpeace, where words play no torturing he just sits, loving, and knows that he isbeing loved, those are the moments that I thinkare precious to a dog; when, with his adoringsoul coming through his eyes, he feels that youare really thinking of him. But he is touch-ingly tolerant of ones other occupations. Thesubject of these memories always knew whenone was too absorbed in work to be so close to 54
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