"He described it briefly and simply, but it would fill a volume of beautiful meaning.

"His family dog had made the acquaintance of a neighbor's child on the other side of the street.

"While lying on the door-stone, he had noticed this little thing sometimes at the chamber window, and sometimes on the pavement, in a little carriage.

"During one of his walks on that side of the street, he met the baby, and looked over the rim of the carriage, as a loving dog can look, straight into a pair of baby eyes, and said, 'Good morning!' as well as he could.

"Little by little, day by day and week by week, this companionship went on growing with the growth and strengthening with the strength of the little one. The dog, doubtless because his master had no young child of his own, came at last to transfer frequently his watch and ward to the door-stone on the other side of the street, and to follow as a guard of honor to the baby's carriage on its daily airings. He gave himself up to all the peltings, and little rude rompings, and rough and tumblings of those baby hands.

"One day, as the dog lay in watch by the door-stone, the child, peeping out of the window above, lost its balance, and fell on the stone pavement below. It was taken up quite dead! The red drops of the young life had bespattered the feet and face of the dog as he sprang to the rescue. His heart died out within him in one long, whining howl of grief. From that moment he refused to eat. He refused to be comforted by his master's voice and by his master's home. Day by day and night by night he lay upon the spot where the child fell.

"This was the neighbor's errand. He told it in a few simple words. He had come to my friend, the druggist, for a prescription for his dog—something to bring back his appetite."