Alexander H. Stephens. This dog, which is mentioned in the _Life of Mr.
Stephens_, was a very large and fine white poodle, named Rio, a dog of
unusual intelligence and affection, to which Mr. Stephens became very
strongly attached. While Mr. Stephens was in Washington, Rio staid with
Linton Stephens, at Sparta, Georgia, until his master returned. Mr.
Stephens would usually come on during the session of Greene County
court, where Linton would meet him, having Rio with him in his buggy,
and the dog would then return with his master. When this had happened
once or twice, the dog learned to expect him on these occasions. The
cars usually arrived at about nine o'clock at night. During the evening,
Rio would be extremely restless, and at the first sound of the
approaching train he would rush from the hotel to the depot, and in a
few seconds would know whether his master was on the train or not, for
he would search for him through all the cars. He was well known to the
conductors, and if the train happened to start before Rio had finished
his search, they would stop to let him get out. But when his search was
successful, his raptures of joy at seeing his master again were really
affecting. His intelligence was so great that he seemed to understand
whatever was said to him; at a word he would shut a door as gently as a
careful servant might have done, or would bring a cane, hat, or
umbrella. He always slept in his master's room, which he scarcely left
during Mr. Stephens's attacks of illness. In a word, Mr. Stephens found
in him a companion of almost human intelligence, and of unbounded
affection and fidelity, and the tie between the man and the dog was
strong and enduring.

"For nearly thirteen years he was," says Mr. Stephens, "my constant
companion, when at home, day and night, and until he became blind, a few
years ago, he always attended me wherever I went, except to Washington.
You may well imagine, then, how I miss him!--miss him in the yard, in
the house, in my walks; for though blind, he used to follow me about the
lot wherever I went. When I was reading or writing, he was always at my
feet. At night, too, his bed was the foot of my own. His beautiful white
thick coat of wool was soft as silk. Who that knew him as I did could
refrain from shedding a tear for poor Rio?"

Of course he was properly interred, in a coffin, in the garden, and
placed in the position in which he usually slept, with his face on his
fore-feet.