with one generation of college girls, but after
three or four years a fresh appeal had to be made, especially in view
of the fact that Sigurd had suddenly resumed the dangerous trick, first
taken up on his wild scampers with Laddie, of jumping at horses' heads,
and we found some of his younger classmates, for Sigurd belonged to
every class in turn, encouraging him in it, because he was "so pretty"
in his leaps. Hence once more he reluctantly lapsed into verse and
recommended to his intimates

A NOSTRUM FOR SIGURD

It is wrong to spring
At a horse's nose;
At that quivery thing
It is wrong to spring.
With tail for a wing
I may chase the crows,
But 'tis wrong to spring
At a horse's nose.

Call me back from the horses
With _no_, _no_, _noes_;
When I try snap courses
Call me back from the horses.
Though my remorse is
A transient pose,
Call me back from the horses
With _no_, _no_, _noes_.

I'm only a collie,
As Wellesley knows;
Though ever so jolly
I'm only a collie.
Save Sigurd from folly,
For folly has foes,
And I'm only a collie,
As Wellesley knows.

There was a perilous season, after a village Airedale had unadvisedly
nipped a teasing small boy, when our hysterical local legislation
ordered all dogs into muzzles, commanding the police to shoot at sight
any canine wayfarer not so equipped. Sigurd, of course, detested his
muzzle and though he would sulkily fetch it when he saw us making ready
for a walk, he would growl at it and worry it until we had it snapped
on, when he would often turn mournfully back from the door or lie down
before it literally in flat rebellion, rather than take the air under
such humiliating and uncomfortable conditions. He soon began to
exercise his ingenuity, however, in the getting rid of that
encumbrance, and again and again, having gone forth a model of
compliance with the law, he would come bounding back, muzzleless,
triumphant, expecting congratulations. It was hard to find a make of
muzzle that he could not push off with his paws or scrape off under a
fence or rub off between close-growing trees, and impossible to find
one that he could not coax his compassionate girl-chums to take off for
him. Melted by his pleading whines, they would slip the muzzle down
from his jaws so that he wore it as a pendant over his white vest, a
compromise that perplexed our hon