The times., 1897-08-11
.E|NsTE|N's POUND PARTY
One Hundred and One Killed at
the Festivities.
WHERE MOMMER FOUND BABY
The Record Broken at the National
Capitals Bastile for Untagged
Boy and His Puppy-How Con-
verted Dogs Die on the Scaffoid.

WashingtonianS are Informed this morn
| ing of u fact Of which they may not feel
particularly proud, but history is history
and vag dogs must die. This city has
broken its own record and the record of
| the country in the number OF lost, strayed,
or stolen dogs of all degrees, captured,
| garroted, or shot 10 death in a single dag.
The ponndmasteTis Is puzzled by the plague
| Of the disowned dogs. Mdnis taking butin-
| different care OF mans bestfriend in Wash.
iIgton. He is dying lthe dog daily by the
score, and on Monday the record was
| frCken and the chances largely in favor OF
further shattering this week.
On Monday night there had been In the
| pound for that day The alarming number Of
| 145 dogs. That broke the record for the
total for single day, and all the execution
ers went to work on the evening Of thai
| day and slew 1Ol Of them, and that broke
another record.
| The Washington pound is not an elab-
crate monumental pile, but there is no
| place like 1T on the inside for variat ton
OF scene, sound and impression. 1t stands
| (perhaps il Is better to say 1t leanSl up
| against one OF the nlurkiest hills Of Foggy
| Bottom. 1t is a kaIsomincd structure Of
| pine boards, like a stockade or Il big sta
bls-a modern instance OF the whited sepul
cher. In the cnteurage OF the dog pound
are many houses of ancient date and for
| tuitous architecture. A year or two
ago, before this composite jail and Eorgue
was whitewashed, a Senator's wife made
| herself very unpopular in that neighbor
hood hy calling at several OF the adjacent
buildings and asking the laadladies, ''Is
this the dog pound?' Even now 1t is only
after a tour of houses fun OF holes, dogs,
| cats and olea giDous babies. and through
waste of dog fennel, wild strawberries.
blackherries, mullen and pokeberries that
you arrive at this most melancholy nDrgue.
InnImerable things of human interest are
said to have been enacted there.
Poundrnaster Einstein said that the place
was full of pathos, but poundmaster Elm
stein does not know that genuine pathos
| is entirely odoriess, Mr. Einstein is new
ertheless a man OF judgment and of feel
ing. ON the table In his office are piles
Of good literature, which he reads to the
accompaniment of the strongest potpourri
ever arranged for many voices. The music
OF this morgue is portable. You take it
away with you for the ensuing midsummer
nightmare. 1t is not the joyous canticle,
or chausoI, o: scared animals in d do.
show, but the composite dying groaDs and
howIs Of the predestinated criminals =
mastiff, bulldog, skye terrier, setter, beagle
and rat catcher.
Sixty-five dogs, apparently of sixty five
different breeds, were bowling the cresceudo
strains OF the damned III chorus yesterday
afternoon, Notwithstanding the fact that
only on the day before 1o1 We're ruth
lessly braIned at the butchering post. They
were not howling for bread or meat or
vegetables. They had been amply fed
and so ii was plain that their great and
boisterous grief was caused by the con
sciousness that by tonight or on the NOR
row, at the outside, they will have to
| meet and reckon with Mr.. Einstein. 1t is
| in vain that you speak to one of these pros
pect.ve victims with heart full Of
speulchlal emotion. blanche, Tray, Sweet
| heart, Fido and Fidele are in no humor
| for perSDage.
| poor Fido!'' said Mr.. Einstein to a
| little req dog with a sacrificial blue ribbon
around his neck. This little dog was
| shedding tears and thinking he peered
| longingly through the iron grating. Poor
l El0O, rCDcdltO MI A-,uSuclus bLO Il ibo
| could not be cajoled into taking his watery
| eyes off the butchers post He fell back
on his launches and howled like the vox
humana stop on the pipe organ.
Probably been here BEFORE remarked
| Mr.. Einstein, as he proceeded to speak
| to a surly looking animal with black
sppt around a villainous eye. He was
| crouching in conner. Mr. Einstein
called him pet name in pleasant tone,
| but the brute simply turned his eye around
without moving his head and said very
distinctly with that black ringed eye of
| his, $50 to III" This was the example
| in the dog world of how brute can die ON
| the scaffuld.
| Then Mr. Einstein spoke TO an animal
| that looked like Gordon setter. The poor
dog craYled up to the bars and wanted
[ to kiss the hands of the eNecutioner. You
| have read of that kind of people, too.
| While all this was going on d poodle
| evidently much cared for at home, hair
| croppcd and otherwise we'll treated, was
| sleeping He was aroused. He looked over
| to the butchers post and barked joyously.
| He was prepared to meet his Einstein. This
! dog reminded oneof the type Of expert mur-
derer who kills wife and six children and
| tells the 3ailer oheerfuliy on the morning
| OF the execution that he wants to go at
| once beyond the clouds and join the choir
| of which his wife and children are the
| latest recruits.
| Most OF these dog martyrs die because
| their hest friends fail to keep them In
| metallic tags at 50 apiece The dog catch
ers scoop them UP on the streets in dip
nets, ard the policemen find the untagged
! at their homes or people surrender their
| nets voluntarily to relieve themselves Of
| being arrested for harboring untaxed dogs.
| While The Times man was at the pound
| yesterday, an hour or so, four dogs were
| brought In on the arms Of children. There
was q grievcus parting on both sides in
ono case. A little boy scarcely more than
| six brought puppy, big enough, however.
l th1 child q, how