This gem, pathetic and beautiful, was in my last book, and is too good to be left out of this.

Mr. H. G. Jeffrey, of the Fifth Mounted Infantry, stationed at the Mod-der River, Cape Colony, sends Our Dogs the following interesting and pathetic account of the return home of the Boers after the war:

"Peace has come at last. Mothers, both English and Dutch, have been relieved of great anxiety; the daily searching of the papers, the terrible uncertainty, is all over. Briton and Boer are now united; the latter are now returning to their homes.

"Let us accompany a young burgher who has escaped from the terrible conflict. Go with him back to the old homestead beneath the 'kop,' on the threshold of what was once his happy home - now nothing more than a desolate ruin. He sits down on all that is left of the 'stoep,' lost in reverie. He is fighting all his battles over again, thinking of those who had sat on that same 'stoep' three years ago. The sun is just settling with that gloriousness for which the African veldt alone is famous. The stillness is more than he can bear, and he could almost weep for very loneliness. But hark! He is not alone; softly a cold nose pushes itself into his hand, and two wistful, loving eyes are upturned to his. 'Tis his old dog, a skeleton of former days; too weak almost to stand, but who has remained faithfully watching the old home, never expecting to hear his beloved master's voice again. I know there are plenty of canine hearts and tongues left amongst the ruined homesteads that will give a hearty welcome to their long-lost masters."

Only A Collie Dog

The trolley's rumple sounded

Above the voice of man, "When out upon the pavement

A little child ran.

Men held their breath in silence,

For down upon her bore A big whirring auto car

With honk, and glare and roar.

But out upon the pavement,

In the heart of London's fog, There dashed, not heeding danger,.

A big brown collie dog.

Without a thought of danger,

While men held their breath, Out of the grasp of heaven

He snatched the child from death.

But there upon the pavement,

In the midst of London's fog, Lay the bruised and torn body

Of only a collie dog. Stratford, Ont. - Georgia Wrinkler.

Buy A Dog

"I've been a good fellow, boys, I've earned all I've spent; Paid all I borrowed, Lost all I lent.

I loved a woman once, That came to an end;

Buy a dog, boys,

He is always your friend."

'LADDIE.

This poetic tribute to the dog that has gone beyond after a life of devotion to his master seems to us one of the best and most touchingly real. It was written by the playwright who resides at Kensington, L. I., on the passing of his favorite collie. Without a trace of the maudlin it touches the chord that holds the dog so near to man:

He wagged his tail, to the very last

And he smiles, in his last, long sleep. The troubles of life, for him, are past,

In his grave, a few feet deep.

His soul, for I feel that he had a soul

And he thought real thoughts, I know, Has found the ultimate end, life's goal,

In the Heaven where good dogs go.

He has lived with me and has suffered with me,

Shed tears, in his dog-like way, He has placed his paw at times on my knee,

In a vain attempt to say, "God never gave us that wondrous power,

To tell all the things we feel, But I want to say, in my canine way,

That my sympathy is real."

So I loved my dog, to the very end

And he in our daily walk,

Was never just dog, put a constant friend

And we had no need to talk. And I hope, when the summons comes for me,

To embark on the unknown tide, I shall find his eyes in the Paradise,

They say is the other side.

JAMES CLARENCE HARVEY.