ft; and his trim,
slim legs were clipped, though tufts were left at his ankles, and at the
tip of his short tail, with two upon his hips, like fanciful buttons of
an imaginary jacket; for thus have such dogs been clipped to a fashion
proper and comfortable for them ever since (and no doubt long before) an
Imperial Roman sculptor so chiselled one in bas-relief. In brief, this
dog, who caused Kitty Silver so much disquietude, as she sat upon the
back steps at Mr. Atwater's, belonged to that species of which no
Frenchman ever sees a specimen without smiling and murmuring:
"_Caniche!_" He was that golden-hearted little clown of all the world, a
French Poodle.
To arrive at what underlay Mrs. Silver's declaration that she had never
lost a grandchild and had no intention of adopting a stranger in the
place of one, it should be first understood that in many respects she
was a civilized person. The quality of savagery, barbarism, or
civilization in a tribe may be tested by the relations it
characteristically maintains with domestic animals; and tribes that eat
dogs are often inferior to those inclined to ceremonial cannibalism.
Likewise, the civilization, barbarism, or savagery of an individual may
be estimated by the same test, which sometimes gives us evidence of
sporadic reversions to mud. Such reversions are the stomach priests:
whatever does not minister to their own bodily inwards is a "parasite."
Dogs are "parasites"; they should not live, because to fat and eat them
somehow appears uncongenial. "Kill Dogs and Feed Pigs," they write to
the papers, and, with a Velasquez available, would burn it rather than
go chilly. "Kill dogs, feed pigs, and let _me_ eat the pigs!" they cry,
even under no great stress, these stern economists who have not noticed
how wasteful the Creator is proved to be if He made themselves. They
take the strictly intestinal view of life. It is not intelligent;
parasite bacilli will get them in the end.
Mrs. Silver was not of these. True, she sometimes professed herself
averse to all "animals," but this meant nothing more than her
unwillingness to have her work increased by their introduction into the
Atwater household. No; the appearance of the dog had stirred something
queer and fundamental within her. All coloured people look startled the
first time they see a French Poodle, but there is a difference. Most
coloured men do not really worry much about being coloured, but many
coloured women do. In t
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