Friends and Helpers | Page 6

over he used to go about the battlefield carrying a can of tea for the wounded men.
Mrs. Browning had a dog named Flush, to whom she wrote one of her poems. She was unable to leave her room for many long months of illness, but the little dog spent the weary days by her side, cheerfully giving up merrier company for her sake.
Lord Byron's dog was named Boatswain and he is buried in the garden of the poet's beautiful home. There is a monument to his memory and on it are these lines:
Near this spot Are deposited the remains of one Who possessed beauty without vanity, Strength without insolence, Courage without ferocity, And all the virtues of man without his vices. This praise, which would be unmeaning flattery If inscribed over human ashes, Is but a just tribute to the memory of BOATSWAIN, a dog, Who was born at Newfoundland, May, 1803, And died at Newstead Abbey, Nov. 18, 1808.
There was once a poor man in Scotland, who, when he died, was buried in a graveyard in Edinburgh, his only mourner being a little Scotch terrier. On two mornings the sexton found the dog lying on his master's grave and drove him away, but the third morning was cold and wet and the dog was allowed to remain. From that time, for twelve years and a half, no matter how stormy the weather, the faithful animal made the graveyard his home, only leaving it once a day to get food.
At last he died of old age, and was buried in a flower garden near by. A costly marble fountain was erected to the memory of the faithful little dog, and a bronze statue of "Grey-Friar's Bobby" sits on top of it.
The most famous dog in America was Owney, the postal dog. He traveled with the mail-bags from one end of the country to the other. He even went to Alaska and across the Pacific Ocean.
Owney first joined the Post-office Department at Albany, N. Y., and he always looked upon that office as headquarters where he must report himself after a long trip.
When Owney was ready for a journey he did not ask any one to go with him. He was quite able to take care of himself. He would follow the mail-bag to the station and jump into the postal car. Having chosen the particular mail-bag which he wished to follow, he would stretch himself out upon it for a good nap. He had no further care, of course. When the mail-bag was taken out, Owney went, too.
Owney was not a handsome dog, but he knew how to make friends. He was welcome wherever he went, and he often came back to Albany cohered with checks and medals to show how far he had traveled and in what esteem he was held.
His intelligence was very wonderful. Many times a tired postal clerk who had fallen asleep, forgetful of the stations, was wakened by Owney's barking. The dog had a fine saver collar of which he was very proud. One day a clerk had slipped it off to examine the medals which were hung on it and in the hurry of extra work it was laid down and forgotten. Owney was too wise to leave his collar behind him, so putting his nose through it and rubbing his head against a post, he slipped it on for himself. After this he was often made to put on his collar to amuse his visitors.
[Illustration: OWNEY, photographed by Edward Chickering. Dog bedecked with ribbons and medals.]
Owney died a few years ago, to the grief of the largest circle of friends a dog ever had. In nearly every large city of the United States he was known and missed, and many years will go by before he is forgotten.
HOW TO TAKE CARE OF DOGS. William and Edward were two boys who lived in the same village. They were cousins, and they had a kind uncle who was always trying to give them pleasure.
One day he gave to each of the boys a puppy. These puppies were so nearly alike that neither the boys nor their uncle could tell them apart.
The boys were delighted with their new pets, and thinking that his dogs were in good hands, Uncle Frank went away for two years.
When he came back he went to see William, and asked about his dog.
"Oh, he was very troublesome, Uncle Frank!" said William. "He cried and whined all the time, and after a while he was so cross that I did not like to go near him. I kept him chained to the kennel, but one day he broke his chain and ran away."
"Why did you chain him?" asked Uncle Frank. "We were going to train him for a watchdog," said William.
"That is