ill be stretched out to stay us, and the voices we have learned
to listen for will cry to us to stop. But we shall push the fond arms
gently back and pass out through the sorrowing house and through the
open door. For the wild, strange music will be ringing in our hearts,
and we shall know the meaning of its song by then.

I wish people could love animals without getting maudlin over them, as
so many do. Women are the most hardened offenders in such respects, but
even our intellectual sex often degrade pets into nuisances by absurd
idolatry. There are the gushing young ladies who, having read "David
Copperfield," have thereupon sought out a small, longhaired dog of
nondescript breed, possessed of an irritating habit of criticising
a man's trousers, and of finally commenting upon the same by a sniff
indicative of contempt and disgust. They talk sweet girlish prattle to
this animal (when there is any one near enough to overhear them), and
they kiss its nose, and put its unwashed head up against their cheek in
a most touching manner; though I have noticed that these caresses are
principally performed when there are young men hanging about.

Then there are the old ladies who worship a fat poodle, scant of breath
and full of fleas. I knew a couple of elderly spinsters once who had
a sort of German sausage on legs which they called a dog between them.
They used to wash its face with warm water every morning. It had a
mutton cutlet regularly for breakfast; and on Sundays, when one of the
ladies went to church, the other always stopped at home to keep the dog
company.

There are many families where the whole interest of life is centered
upon the dog. Cats, by the way, rarely suffer from excess of adulation.
A cat possesses a very fair sense of the ridiculous, and will put
her paw down kindly but firmly upon any nonsense of this kind. Dogs,
however, seem to like it. They encourage their owners in the tomfoolery,
and the consequence is that in the circles I am speaking of what "dear
Fido" has done, does do, will do, won't do, can do, can't do, was doing,
is doing, is going to do, shall do, shan't do, and is about to be going
to have done is the continual theme of discussion from morning till
night.

All the conversation, consisting, as it does, of the very dregs of
imbecility, is addressed to this confounded animal. The family sit in
a row all day long, watching him, commenting upon his actions, telling
each other anecdotes a