The evening times. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1895-1902, 1900-11-07

white pickets with a commemorative
plate; and steIas and monuments. s. me OF
them very beautiful. And now We STOP
to read the Inscriptions.
Under stone dais sheltering a sculp-
tured greyhound on q cushion with the
arms of the PriG access OF Cecchiard Pig
natelli, l read:
In memory OF rny dear Emma, from
April H. 1889, to August 2, 1890. the faith
full companion and only friend CT my wan
dering and desolate life. she saved me
from death in May, 1891
Further on is this inscription
"Liline, 1S79-1900. Two ms parable
friends for twenty-one years"
Il never had but one true friend; here
he lies"
And again:
"Bijou, September 3, 1889. He saved nay
life; / owed him souvenir
A little further On was another:
ITO Miss Bcalie. Run over in Tours,
February Is, 1860. For ten years she had
been cherished friend"
While / was noting down these inscrip-
tions NJ. Georges Harmois gave me new
details. Everything is done with decency
and modesty in the dog cemetery. SO,
contrary TO the declaration of certain per-
sons, the pompous display of declamatory
regrets upon the mausoleums is prohibit
ed All manifestations of bad taste. taken
from politics, are also forbidden. Finally,
everything is excluded that might injure
the religious sentiments or the just sus-
capabilities of visitors.
All" exclaims the director OF the GEM
etery, If everybody had the taste of your
eonfrere, NJ. Alfred Deliiiai See, here.
the plot for his dog Stella. name plate.
d little close-work baIustrade, some fresh
turf, with little branch of white geran-
ium; it is perfect! Take a look, too at
that carved stone, with the branch of ivy
running over it, and the word 'Tonkin
on It. That marks the grave of Nine. Ju-
llette Darcourt's dog Nine Bob Walter
has shown exquisite taste. Wait -
While l was listening 10 the director OF
the cemetery group of people appeared in
the central aIleyway- There were three
women and one man. The man was in the
lead. In his hand he carried vaIise COW
cred with cloth.
1 heard him say: He is in this
Very we'll said NJ Harmois, will you
kindly come into my Office for the neces-
sary formalities ga
Once within the Office, which is situated
alongside of the large grating. NJ. Harmois
opened a large register and asked:
Your name? The dogs name? His age?
The cause of his death? %
The man was evidently a laborer He
was dressed in his Sunday clothes and
looked like an intelligent and kind person.
He answered very seriously:
My name is Duvai- The dog was six
years old; he was named Biiou; he died
from-I think he died from an inhamma-
tion of the lungs"
4 big sigh is heard. Il is one of the
women that enits it. The other women
said nothing. One was a neighbor who
looked on with curiosity
The formahties finished, all proceeded to
the burial place. Duyal stated that he
desired the common plot. That cost only
five francs, while private plot would be
too weighty charge upoa laborer's
budget.
Before the open trench Nine Duval sup
pressed a sob. Then she said timidly:
Couldn't he, sir, be left in the valise,
at least?"
But the rules of the common plot pre-
scribe strictly that the animals must be
buried in hole containing quicklime.
e The grave digger, therefore took Bitou
out OF the valise, pulled of the blue apron
out of which they had made him shToud
and deposited him upon the fresh Garth.
He was a completely black dog of slim
make. The grave digger then emptied
over him a sack of lime, and the curly
hair of the dead animal suddenly be-
came white.
Poor little fellow!'' exclaimed the wo-
man; and her eyes became moist
All three seemed to be sincerely moved,
even the curious neighbor.
You were very fond of him. them
asked NJ. Harmois, very gently.
"0h yes, sir" she answered in such e
transport of feeling that her grief burst
out in sobs. The poor creature loved US
well, too! II used to caress me so gently
whenever I was suffering"
Come, don't cry said the man, bring
ing away his wife. Well come to see
him, from time 10 time on Sundays"
I confess that. in the presence of the
grief of those humble people, and also
those touching illusions Of sorrow and
tenderness for the little animal no lon
ger felt like smiling at the idea of a dog
cemetery.