Flush or Faunus.

You see this dog. It was but yesterdayI mused forgetful of his presence here;Till thought on thought drew downward tear on tear;When from the pillow, where wet-cheeked I lay,A head as hairy as Faunus’ thrust its wayRight sudden against my face, two golden, clear,Great eyes astonished mine; a drooping earDid flap me on either cheek to dry the spray.I started first; as some ArcadianAmazed by goatly god in twilight grove;But as the bearded vision closelier ranMy tears off, I knew Flush, and rose aboveSurprise and sadness; thanking the true PanWho by low creatures leads to heights of love.

You see this dog. It was but yesterday

I mused forgetful of his presence here;

Till thought on thought drew downward tear on tear;

When from the pillow, where wet-cheeked I lay,

A head as hairy as Faunus’ thrust its way

Right sudden against my face, two golden, clear,

Great eyes astonished mine; a drooping ear

Did flap me on either cheek to dry the spray.

I started first; as some Arcadian

Amazed by goatly god in twilight grove;

But as the bearded vision closelier ran

My tears off, I knew Flush, and rose above

Surprise and sadness; thanking the true Pan

Who by low creatures leads to heights of love.

The poem is equally beautiful:

Other dogs may be thy peersHaply in these drooping earsAnd this glossy fairness.But oftheeit shall be said,This dog watched beside a bedDay and night unweary;Watched within a curtained room,Where no sunbeam brake the gloomRound the sick and weary.Roses gathered for a vaseIn that chamber died apace,Beam and breeze resigning;This dog only waited on,Knowing that when light is goneLove remains for shining.Other dogs in thymy dewTracked the hares and followed throughSunny moor or meadow;This dog only crept and creptNext a languid cheek that slept,Sharing in the shadow.Other dogs of loyal cheerBounded at the whistle clear,Up the woodside hieing;This dog only watched in reachOf a faintly uttered speech,Or a louder sighing.And if one or two quick tearsDropped upon his glossy ears,Or a sigh came double,Up he sprang in eager haste,Fawning, fondling, breathing fastIn a tender trouble.And this dog was satisfiedIf a pale, thin hand would glideDown his dewlaps sloping,Which he pushed his nose within,After platforming his chinOn the palm left open.This dog, if a friendly voiceCall him now to blither choiceThan such chamber keeping,“Come out,” praying from the door,Presseth backward as before,Up against me leaping.Therefore to this dog will I,Tenderly, not scornfully,Render praise and favour;With my hand upon his head,Is my benediction said,Therefore and forever.

Other dogs may be thy peersHaply in these drooping earsAnd this glossy fairness.

Other dogs may be thy peers

Haply in these drooping ears

And this glossy fairness.

But oftheeit shall be said,This dog watched beside a bedDay and night unweary;Watched within a curtained room,Where no sunbeam brake the gloomRound the sick and weary.

But oftheeit shall be said,

This dog watched beside a bed

Day and night unweary;

Watched within a curtained room,

Where no sunbeam brake the gloom

Round the sick and weary.

Roses gathered for a vaseIn that chamber died apace,Beam and breeze resigning;This dog only waited on,Knowing that when light is goneLove remains for shining.

Roses gathered for a vase

In that chamber died apace,

Beam and breeze resigning;

This dog only waited on,

Knowing that when light is gone

Love remains for shining.

Other dogs in thymy dewTracked the hares and followed throughSunny moor or meadow;This dog only crept and creptNext a languid cheek that slept,Sharing in the shadow.

Other dogs in thymy dew

Tracked the hares and followed through

Sunny moor or meadow;

This dog only crept and crept

Next a languid cheek that slept,

Sharing in the shadow.

Other dogs of loyal cheerBounded at the whistle clear,Up the woodside hieing;This dog only watched in reachOf a faintly uttered speech,Or a louder sighing.

Other dogs of loyal cheer

Bounded at the whistle clear,

Up the woodside hieing;

This dog only watched in reach

Of a faintly uttered speech,

Or a louder sighing.

And if one or two quick tearsDropped upon his glossy ears,Or a sigh came double,Up he sprang in eager haste,Fawning, fondling, breathing fastIn a tender trouble.

And if one or two quick tears

Dropped upon his glossy ears,

Or a sigh came double,

Up he sprang in eager haste,

Fawning, fondling, breathing fast

In a tender trouble.

And this dog was satisfiedIf a pale, thin hand would glideDown his dewlaps sloping,Which he pushed his nose within,After platforming his chinOn the palm left open.

And this dog was satisfied

If a pale, thin hand would glide

Down his dewlaps sloping,

Which he pushed his nose within,

After platforming his chin

On the palm left open.

This dog, if a friendly voiceCall him now to blither choiceThan such chamber keeping,“Come out,” praying from the door,Presseth backward as before,Up against me leaping.

This dog, if a friendly voice

Call him now to blither choice

Than such chamber keeping,

“Come out,” praying from the door,

Presseth backward as before,

Up against me leaping.

Therefore to this dog will I,Tenderly, not scornfully,Render praise and favour;With my hand upon his head,Is my benediction said,Therefore and forever.

Therefore to this dog will I,

Tenderly, not scornfully,

Render praise and favour;

With my hand upon his head,

Is my benediction said,

Therefore and forever.

Mrs. Browning said in a note to this poem: “This dog was the gift of my dear and admired friend, Miss Mitford, and belongs to the beautiful race she has rendered celebrated among English and American readers.”

Hogg, the Ettrick Shepherd, addressed a long poem to his dog, ending:

When my last bannock’s on the hearth,Of that thou canna want thy share;While I ha’e house or hauld on earth,My Hector shall ha’e shelter there.

When my last bannock’s on the hearth,

Of that thou canna want thy share;

While I ha’e house or hauld on earth,

My Hector shall ha’e shelter there.

Another favourite was honoured by Dr. Holland, the essayist, lecturer, magazine editor, and poet:

To my Dog Blanco.

My dear, dumb friend, low lying there,A willing vassal at my feet,Glad partner of my home and fare,My shadow in the street.I look into your great brown eyes,Where love and loyal homage shine,And wonder where the difference liesBetween your soul and mine!For all of good that I have foundWithin myself or human kind,Hath royally informed and crownedYour gentle heart and mind.I scan the whole broad earth aroundFor that one heart which, leal and true,Bears friendship without end or bound,And find the prize in you.I trust you as I trust the stars;Nor cruel loss, nor scoff of pride,Nor beggary, nor dungeon bars,Can move you from my side!As patient under injuryAs any Christian saint of old,As gentle as a lamb with me,But with your brothers bold;More playful than a frolic boy,More watchful than a sentinel,By day and night your constant joyTo guard and please me well.I clasp your head upon my breast—The while you whine and lick my hand—And thus our friendship is confessed,And thus we understand!Ah, Blanco! did I worship GodAs truly as you worship me,Or follow where my Master trodWith your humility—Did I sit fondly at his feet,As you, dear Blanco, sit at mine,And watch him with a love as sweet,My life would grow divine!

My dear, dumb friend, low lying there,A willing vassal at my feet,Glad partner of my home and fare,My shadow in the street.

My dear, dumb friend, low lying there,

A willing vassal at my feet,

Glad partner of my home and fare,

My shadow in the street.

I look into your great brown eyes,Where love and loyal homage shine,And wonder where the difference liesBetween your soul and mine!

I look into your great brown eyes,

Where love and loyal homage shine,

And wonder where the difference lies

Between your soul and mine!

For all of good that I have foundWithin myself or human kind,Hath royally informed and crownedYour gentle heart and mind.

For all of good that I have found

Within myself or human kind,

Hath royally informed and crowned

Your gentle heart and mind.

I scan the whole broad earth aroundFor that one heart which, leal and true,Bears friendship without end or bound,And find the prize in you.

I scan the whole broad earth around

For that one heart which, leal and true,

Bears friendship without end or bound,

And find the prize in you.

I trust you as I trust the stars;Nor cruel loss, nor scoff of pride,Nor beggary, nor dungeon bars,Can move you from my side!

I trust you as I trust the stars;

Nor cruel loss, nor scoff of pride,

Nor beggary, nor dungeon bars,

Can move you from my side!

As patient under injuryAs any Christian saint of old,As gentle as a lamb with me,But with your brothers bold;

As patient under injury

As any Christian saint of old,

As gentle as a lamb with me,

But with your brothers bold;

More playful than a frolic boy,More watchful than a sentinel,By day and night your constant joyTo guard and please me well.

More playful than a frolic boy,

More watchful than a sentinel,

By day and night your constant joy

To guard and please me well.

I clasp your head upon my breast—The while you whine and lick my hand—And thus our friendship is confessed,And thus we understand!

I clasp your head upon my breast—

The while you whine and lick my hand—

And thus our friendship is confessed,

And thus we understand!

Ah, Blanco! did I worship GodAs truly as you worship me,Or follow where my Master trodWith your humility—

Ah, Blanco! did I worship God

As truly as you worship me,

Or follow where my Master trod

With your humility—

Did I sit fondly at his feet,As you, dear Blanco, sit at mine,And watch him with a love as sweet,My life would grow divine!

Did I sit fondly at his feet,

As you, dear Blanco, sit at mine,

And watch him with a love as sweet,

My life would grow divine!

Maria Edgeworth wrote to her aunt, Mrs. Ruxton, in 1819, “I see my little dog on your lap, and feel your hand patting his head, and hear your voice telling him that it is for Maria’s sake he is there.”

What a pathetic friendship existed between Emily Brontë and the dog whom she was sure could understand every word she said to him! “She always fed the animals herself; the old cat; Flossy, her favourite spaniel; Keeper, the fierce bulldog, her own constant dear companion, whose portrait, drawn by her own spirited hand, is still extant. And the creatures onthe moor were all in a sense her pets and familiar with her. The intense devotion of this silent woman to all manner of dumb creatures has something almost inexplicable. As her old father and her sisters followed her to the grave they were joined by another mourner, Keeper, Emily’s dog. He walked in front of all, first in the rank of mourners, and perhaps no other creature had loved the dead woman quite so well. When they had laid her to sleep in the dark, airless vault under the church, and when they had crossed the bleak churchyard and had entered the empty house again, Keeper went straight to the door of the room where his mistress used to sleep, and laid down across the threshold. There he howled piteously for many days, knowing not that no lamentations could wake her any more.”

Dogs were supposed by the ancient Gaels to know of the death of a friend, however far they might be separated. But this is getting too gloomy. Do you know how the proverb originated “as cold as a dog’s nose”? An old verse tells us:

There sprang a leak in Noah’s ark,Which made the dog begin to bark;Noah took his nose to stop the hole,And hence his nose is always cold.

There sprang a leak in Noah’s ark,

Which made the dog begin to bark;

Noah took his nose to stop the hole,

And hence his nose is always cold.

No one has expressed more appreciation of the noble qualities of dogs than the abstracted, philosophic Wordsworth.

Characteristic of a Favourite Dog.

On his morning rounds the masterGoes to learn how all things fare;Searches pasture after pasture,Sheep and cattle eyes with care;And, for silence or for talk,He hath comrades in his walk;Four dogs, each pair of different breed,Distinguished two for scent and two for speed.See a hare before him started!Off they fly in earnest chase;Every dog is eager-hearted,All the four are in the race:And the hare whom they pursue,Hath an instinct what to do;Her hope is near: no turn she makes;But, like an arrow, to the river takes.Deep the river was, and crustedThinly by a one night’s frost;But the nimble hare hath trustedTo the ice, and safely crost;She hath crossed, and without heedAll are following at full speed,When, lo! the ice, so thinly spread,Breaks—and the greyhound, Dart, is over head!Better fate have Prince and Swallow—See them cleaving to the sport!Music has no heart to follow,Little Music, she stops short.She hath neither wish nor heart,Hers is now another part:A loving creature she, and brave!And fondly strives her struggling friend to save.From the brink her paws she stretches,Very hands as you would say!And afflicting moans she fetches,As he breaks the ice away.For herself she hath no fears,Him alone she sees and hears,Makes efforts and complainings; nor gives o’erUntil her fellow sank, and reappeared no more.

On his morning rounds the master

Goes to learn how all things fare;

Searches pasture after pasture,

Sheep and cattle eyes with care;

And, for silence or for talk,

He hath comrades in his walk;

Four dogs, each pair of different breed,

Distinguished two for scent and two for speed.

See a hare before him started!Off they fly in earnest chase;Every dog is eager-hearted,All the four are in the race:And the hare whom they pursue,Hath an instinct what to do;Her hope is near: no turn she makes;But, like an arrow, to the river takes.

See a hare before him started!

Off they fly in earnest chase;

Every dog is eager-hearted,

All the four are in the race:

And the hare whom they pursue,

Hath an instinct what to do;

Her hope is near: no turn she makes;

But, like an arrow, to the river takes.

Deep the river was, and crustedThinly by a one night’s frost;But the nimble hare hath trustedTo the ice, and safely crost;She hath crossed, and without heedAll are following at full speed,When, lo! the ice, so thinly spread,Breaks—and the greyhound, Dart, is over head!

Deep the river was, and crusted

Thinly by a one night’s frost;

But the nimble hare hath trusted

To the ice, and safely crost;

She hath crossed, and without heed

All are following at full speed,

When, lo! the ice, so thinly spread,

Breaks—and the greyhound, Dart, is over head!

Better fate have Prince and Swallow—See them cleaving to the sport!Music has no heart to follow,Little Music, she stops short.She hath neither wish nor heart,Hers is now another part:A loving creature she, and brave!And fondly strives her struggling friend to save.

Better fate have Prince and Swallow—

See them cleaving to the sport!

Music has no heart to follow,

Little Music, she stops short.

She hath neither wish nor heart,

Hers is now another part:

A loving creature she, and brave!

And fondly strives her struggling friend to save.

From the brink her paws she stretches,Very hands as you would say!And afflicting moans she fetches,As he breaks the ice away.For herself she hath no fears,Him alone she sees and hears,Makes efforts and complainings; nor gives o’erUntil her fellow sank, and reappeared no more.

From the brink her paws she stretches,

Very hands as you would say!

And afflicting moans she fetches,

As he breaks the ice away.

For herself she hath no fears,

Him alone she sees and hears,

Makes efforts and complainings; nor gives o’er

Until her fellow sank, and reappeared no more.

To the Memory of the Same Dog.

Lie here, without a record of thy worth,Beneath a covering of the common earth!It is not from unwillingness to praise,Or want of love, that here no stone we raise;More thou deservest; butthisman gives to man,Brother to brother,thisis all we can.Yet they to whom thy virtues made thee dearShall find thee through all changes of the year:This oak points out thy grave; the silent treeWill gladly stand a monument of thee.

Lie here, without a record of thy worth,

Beneath a covering of the common earth!

It is not from unwillingness to praise,

Or want of love, that here no stone we raise;

More thou deservest; butthisman gives to man,

Brother to brother,thisis all we can.

Yet they to whom thy virtues made thee dear

Shall find thee through all changes of the year:

This oak points out thy grave; the silent tree

Will gladly stand a monument of thee.

Cowper, who tenderly loved all animals, did not fail to honour a dog with a poetical tribute in The Dog and the Water Lily, celebrating the devotion of “my spaniel, prettiest of his race.”

It was the time when Ouse displayedHis lilies newly blown;Their beauties I intent surveyed,And one I wished my own.With cane extended far, I soughtTo steer it close to land;But still the prize, though nearly caught,Escaped my eager hand.Beau marked my unsuccessful painsWith fixed, considerate face,And puzzling set his puppy brainsTo comprehend, the case.But chief myself, I will enjoin,Awake at duty’s call,To show a love as prompt as thineTo Him who gives us all.But with a chirrup clear and strong,Dispersing all his dream,I thence withdrew, and followed longThe windings of the stream.My ramble finished, I returned.Beau, trotting far before,The floating wreath again discerned,And, plunging, left the shore.I saw him, with that lily cropped,Impatient swim to meetMy quick approach, and soon he droppedThe treasure at my feet.Charmed with this sight, the world, I cried,Shall hear of this, thy deed:My dog shall mortify the prideOf man’s superior breed.

It was the time when Ouse displayedHis lilies newly blown;Their beauties I intent surveyed,And one I wished my own.

It was the time when Ouse displayed

His lilies newly blown;

Their beauties I intent surveyed,

And one I wished my own.

With cane extended far, I soughtTo steer it close to land;But still the prize, though nearly caught,Escaped my eager hand.

With cane extended far, I sought

To steer it close to land;

But still the prize, though nearly caught,

Escaped my eager hand.

Beau marked my unsuccessful painsWith fixed, considerate face,And puzzling set his puppy brainsTo comprehend, the case.

Beau marked my unsuccessful pains

With fixed, considerate face,

And puzzling set his puppy brains

To comprehend, the case.

But chief myself, I will enjoin,Awake at duty’s call,To show a love as prompt as thineTo Him who gives us all.

But chief myself, I will enjoin,

Awake at duty’s call,

To show a love as prompt as thine

To Him who gives us all.

But with a chirrup clear and strong,Dispersing all his dream,I thence withdrew, and followed longThe windings of the stream.

But with a chirrup clear and strong,

Dispersing all his dream,

I thence withdrew, and followed long

The windings of the stream.

My ramble finished, I returned.Beau, trotting far before,The floating wreath again discerned,And, plunging, left the shore.

My ramble finished, I returned.

Beau, trotting far before,

The floating wreath again discerned,

And, plunging, left the shore.

I saw him, with that lily cropped,Impatient swim to meetMy quick approach, and soon he droppedThe treasure at my feet.

I saw him, with that lily cropped,

Impatient swim to meet

My quick approach, and soon he dropped

The treasure at my feet.

Charmed with this sight, the world, I cried,Shall hear of this, thy deed:My dog shall mortify the prideOf man’s superior breed.

Charmed with this sight, the world, I cried,

Shall hear of this, thy deed:

My dog shall mortify the pride

Of man’s superior breed.

Forster tells us fully of Dickens’s devotion to his many dogs, quoting the novelist’s inimitable way of describing his favourites. In Dr. Marigold there is an especially good bit about “me and my dog.”

“My dog knew as well as I did when she was on the turn. Before she broke out he would give a howl and bolt. How he knew it was a mystery to me, but the sure and certain knowledge of it would wake him up out of his soundest sleep, and would give a howl and bolt. At such times I wished I was him.” After the death of child and wife, he says: “Me and my dog was all the company left in the cart now, and the dog learned to give a short bark when they wouldn’t bid, and to give another and a nod of his head when I asked him ‘Who saidhalf a crown?’ He attained to an immense height of popularity, and, I shall always believe, taught himself entirely out of his own head to growl at any person in the crowd that bid as low as sixpence. But he got to be well on in years, and one night when I was convulsing York with the spectacles he took a convulsion on his own account, upon the very footboard by me, and it finished him.”

Mr. Laurence Hutton, in the St. Nicholas, has lately expressed his sentiments about dogs, as follows:

“It was Dr. John Brown, of Edinburgh, I think, who spoke in sincere sympathy of the man who “led a dog-less life.” It was Mr. “Josh Billings,” I know, who said that in the whole history of the world there is but one thing that money can not buy—to wit, the wag of a dog’s tail. And it was Prof. John C. Van Dyke who declared the other day, in reviewing the artistic career of Landseer, that he made his dogs too human. It was the great Creator himself who made dogs too human—so human that sometimes they put humanity to shame.

“I have been the friend and confidant of three dogs, who helped to humanize me for the space of a quarter of a century, and who had souls to be saved, I am sure, and when I cross the Stygian River I expect to find on the other shore a trio of dogs wagging their tails almost off in their joy at my coming, and with honest tongues hanging out to lick my hands and my feet. And then I am going, with these faithful, devoted dogs at my heels, to talk dogs over with Dr. John Brown, Sir Edward Landseer, and Mr. Josh Billings.”

Do dogs have souls—a spark of life that after death lives on elsewhere?

Many have hoped so, from Wesley to the little boy who has lost his cherished comrade.

It is certain that dogs show qualities that in a man would be called reason, quick apprehension, presence of mind, courage, self-abnegation, affection unto death.

At the close of this chapter may I be allowed to tell of two of my specialfriends—one a fox terrier, owned by Mr. Howard Ticknor, of Boston; the other my own interesting pet—who have never failed to learn any trick suggested to them? Antoninus Pius, called Tony for short, goes through more than a score of wonderful accomplishments, such as playing on the piano, crossing his paws and looking extremely artistic, if not inspired, dancing a skirt dance, spinning on a flax wheel, performing on a tambourine swung by a ribbon round his neck; plays pattycake with his mistress. And my own intelligent Yorkshire terrier mounts a chair back and preaches with animation, eloquence, and forcible gestures; knocks down a row of books and then sits on them, as a book reviewer; stands in a corner with right paw uplifted, as a tableau of Liberty enlightening the World; rings a bell repeatedly and with increasing energy, to call us to the table; sings with head and eyes uplifted, to accompaniment of harmonica—and each is just beginning his education.

I have read lately an account of aknowing dog, with a sort of sharp cockney ability, who used to go daily with penny in mouth and buy a roll. Once one right out of the oven was given to him; he dropped it, seized his money off the counter, and changed his baker.

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