with on this account,
because many of them do not show their courage till nearly
two years old, and then nothing can beat them; this apparent
softness arising, as I suspect, _from kindness of heart_"--a
suspicion, my dear "Stonehenge," which is true, and shows
your own "kindness of heart," as well as sense.

DICK

Still lives, and long may he live! As he was never born, possibly he may
never die; be it so, he will miss us when we are gone. I could say much
of him, but agree with the lively and admirable Dr. Jortin, when, in his
dedication of his _Remarks on Ecclesiastical History_ to the then (1752)
Archbishop of Canterbury, he excuses himself for not following the
modern custom of praising his Patron, by reminding his Grace "that it
was a custom amongst the ancients, _not to sacrifice to heroes till
after sunset_." I defer my sacrifice till Dick's sun is set.

I think every family should have a dog; it is like having a perpetual
baby; it is the plaything and crony of the whole house. It keeps them
all young. All unite upon Dick. And then he tells no tales, betrays no
secrets, never sulks, asks no troublesome questions, never gets into
debt, never coming down late for breakfast, or coming in through his
Chubb _too early_ to bed--is always ready for a bit of fun, lies in wait
for it, and you may, if choleric, to your relief, kick him instead of
some one else, who would not take it so meekly, and, moreover, would
certainly not, as he does, ask your pardon for being kicked.

Never put a collar on your dog--it only gets him stolen; give him only
one meal a day, and let that, as Dame Dorothy, Sir Thomas Browne's wife,
would say, be "rayther under." Wash him once a week, and always wash the
soap out; and let him be carefully combed and brushed twice a week.

By the bye, I was wrong in saying that it was Burns who said Man is the
God of the Dog--he got it from Bacon's _Essay on Atheism_.

_QUEEN MARY'S CHILD-GARDEN._

If any one wants a pleasure that is sure to please, one over which he
needn't growl the sardonic beatitude of the great Dean, let him, when
the Mercury is at "Fair," take the nine A.M. train to the North and a
return-ticket for Callander, and when he arrives at Stirling, let him
ask the most obliging and knowing of station-masters to telegraph to
"the Dreadnought" for a carriage to be in waiting. When passing Dunblane
Cathedral, let him resolve to write to