Of drowning pains and mortal agony,
Thy master's self might weep and smile to see
His little dog stretched on these rosy shells,
Betwixt the rainbow and the rosy sea.

CHARLES TENNYSON TURNER.

PART II

THE HUMAN RELATIONSHIP

_"A man's dog stands by him in prosperity and in poverty, in
health and in sickness. He will sleep on the cold ground, where
the wintry winds blow and the snow drives fiercely, if only he
can be near his master's side. He will kiss the hand that has no
food to offer, he will lick the wounds and sores that come in
encounter with the roughness of the world. When all other
friends desert, he remains. When riches take wings, and
reputation falls to pieces, he is as constant in his love as the
sun in its journey through the heavens."_

SENATOR GEORGE GRAHAM VEST.

CLUNY

I am quite sure he thinks that I am God--
Since he is God on whom each one depends
For life, and all things that his bounty sends--
My dear old dog, most constant of all friends;

Not quick to mind, but quicker far than I
To him whom God I know and own; his eye,
Deep brown and liquid, watches for my nod;
He is more patient underneath the rod

Than I, when God his wise corrections sends.
He looks love at me deep as words e'er spake,
And from me never crumb or sup will take
But he wags thanks with his most vocal tail.

And when some crashing noise wakes all his fear
He is content and quiet if I'm near,
Secure that my protection will prevail!

So, faithful, mindful, thankful, trustful, he
Tells me what I unto my God should be.

WILLIAM CROSWELL DOANE.

THE BEST FRIEND

If I was sad, then he had grief, as well--
Seeking my hands with soft insistent paw,
Searching my face with anxious eyes that saw
More than my halting, human speech could tell;
Eyes wide with wisdom, fine, compassionate--
Dear, loyal one, that knew not wrong nor hate.

If I made merry--then how he would strive
To show his joy; "Good master, let's to play,
The world is ours," that gladsome bark would say;
"Just yours and mine--'tis fun to be alive!"
Our world ... four walls above the city's din,
My crutch the bar that ever held us in.

Whate'er my mood--the fretful word, or sweet,
The swift command, the wheedling undertone,
His faith was fixed, his love was mine, alone,
His heaven was here at my slow cripple