The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1898-11-27
A MISUNDERSTANDING DOG.
a Grandson of the Famous Sir Bedi-
we're That Would Not Survive His
Masters Death.

we're That Would Not Survive His
Masters Death.
From the Denver Post.
The most loving friend DR., E. w Bovett
ever had never shed a tear or said q word
when the doctors cold. white body was
taken from Bow.es lake, Oct. %, in whose
icy waters life had left it. But this friend
died this morning at $50 grieving for him.
Il was Duke, or, by his full and rightfuI
title, Duke of Somerset. A dog of royal
blood, son of Lord Alton. and grandson Of
the great Sir Bedivere, the $4,000 st. Ber-
nard His lineage was perfect. with no
mongrel cross or strain to MARI it, His
good breeding showed as plainly in his
conduct as in his grand face and majestic
carriage. No finer gentleman ever trod
the streets of Denver, and there never
was nobler heart than that which throb-
bed beneath the shaggy coat of this great
St. Bernard.
Whenever and wherever it was permissl-
BILE Duke trod beside his master. When it
was impracticable to have him a word was
sufficient, Duke walked patiently back to
his kennel in the stable at 1880 Curtis
street, and waited, his solemn eyes watch
ing for the return of his master and when
he came Dukes welcome was sure for
Dukes vigil was tireless. Standing nearly
three feet in hight, his grand face show
ing plainly the white and red markings
and noble Iineaments of his ancestor, his
huge body, firm nose and plumehke tail,
he made a picture that would make the ar
fist instinctively reach for his brush. He
was the ideal dog, the perfect specimen
of his race.
The day following the death of his mas
ter, Duke began to show great uneasiness.
He ran back and forth about the stable
yard, and gazed wistfully into the face
of DR.. F. w. Hunt, who had taken charge
of the establishment and then sought out
7. Broderick, who had assisted DIR. Bro
vett for years, and on whom he turned his
eloquent eyes so anxiously, so questioning
ly that Mr.. Broderick turned away his
own swimming eyes. AS the days went
by his master still missing, Dukes an
xiety became frantic. his whines and
pleading eye-questlons piteous.
I'm going to take him down to the un-
dertaker's and let him see the body; maybe
he win understand, poor fellow said Mr..
Brodericl1, the day before the funeral.
Take him." assented Mr.. Hunt.
Duke did not understand what was
meant when a chair was placed for him
beside one of the long gloomy boxes at
the undertaker's, but he climbed upon the
chair fhen told to do so, for obedience was
one of his strong traits of character. Then
while he watched curiously the lid of the
coffin was removed.
What was that down there rigid and
white in the satin cushions, strange and
yet familiar? Not Dukes master so stil?
But yes, it was. Duke bent his head low
down over it and gazed eagerly Yes,
it was he, and yet there was something
about him that sent a chill to Dukes
heart. What was it? Again Duke gazed,
and now his ears cooked happily His
master was asleep; that was i'll One touch
of that lolling, affectionate tongue and he
would awake and pat his head and say
the fond old nothings which were the very
life of Duke!
The dog leaned down still further and
licked the upturned face, then started
back affrighted. Cold, irresponsible; some-
thing had happened to his master.
Duke knew nothing of death. He licked
his masters face again-and then he knew.
Deep down in his white soul, where grew
affection and obedience, nothing else he
knew that the end had come; that the be-
ing to whom in loving slavery he had
bound himself forever would know him no
more; would never fondle or talk to him
again. That was all he realized, but that
was enough Dropping back in the chair,
throwing back his noble head, he gave
vent to his grief in hollow bowls that were
dragged away from the place.
Next day he tried to follow to the fu-
neral, but was gently led back to the sta
bic, where he lay down, and dropping his
huge head between his paws, gave up and
waited for the end. 1t came eight days
later-this morning. All sorts of dainties
were brought to him by old friends who
knew his tastes.
Beef heart prepared in a way which he
had artipt rlx bad h,
such times he merely lifted his melancholy
eyes to the face of the giver for a mo-
ment, looked his thanks and dropped his
head again.
Every day he walked around to all the
places that the doctor had frequented,
hopelessly, to be sure but evidently with
faint notion that maybe, maybe, his
master might come back
Poor old fenoww they would say to
him at the Tabor BARRIERS shop and pat
him kindly.
Poor old dog" was what he heard at
Findlay's stables, at George Walkers and
at other places he visited. But he would
not hold up his head, and he would not
eat.
DR.. Hunt sat up with him and nursed
him as If he had been an ailing infant.
AT $3.50 this morning Duke gave a moan
that was hardly more than sigh and
went out into the infinite in search Of his
master.
VIII he find him?