I

number of dogs in my life, but Last evening I visited my dog

HAVE owned quite a they are all dead now. cemetery-just between the gloaming and the shank of the evening. On the biscuit-box cover that stands at the head

of a little mound fringed with golden rod and pickle the idler may still read these lines, etched in red cha trembling hand

LITTLE KOSCIUSKO,

.........NOT DEAD.........

BUT JERKED HENCE
BY REQUEST.

S. Y. L.

(SEE YOU LATER.)

I do not know why he was called Kosciusko. I care. I only know that his little grave stands ou while the gloaming gloams and the soughing wi soughing.

Do you ask why I am alone here and dogless weary world?

I will tell you, anyhow. It will not take long, and do me good: Kosciusko came to me one night in with no baggage, and unidentified.

If

When I opened the door he came in as though left something in there by mistake and had returned He stayed with us two years as a watch-dog. desultory way, he was a good watch-dog. watched other people with the same unrelenting with which he watched me, I might have felt his dea keenly than I do now.

The second year that little Kosciusko was wit shaved off a full beard one day while down town, p clean collar and otherwise disguised myself, inten surprise my wife.

Kosciusko sat on the front porch when I returne looked at me as a cashier of a bank does when paper man goes in to get a suspiciously large cheque He did not know me. I said, "Kosciusko, have y gotten your master's voice?"