Evening star., 1924-11-22

eyes. Now that is a bad combination.
III just the former Is there. a man
can be handled easily, but let ire get
mixed in, he is. more formidable.
Il have lost my dog" he said. Sym
pathy being expressed. he continued,
and then the reason for the evil
light was seen.
Somebody poisoned him." he said,
quietly enough, but more than a trace
of fury fingered in his tone. as he
went on to use language which
would not look good in print. Yet
it was entirely justified.
The man who poisons dog is
about the lowest breed of the
human family. He is even below the
so-called evangelist who desecrates
with slang the dignified, sweet story
of Jesus and His love.
why not bury Spot in your back
yard and then put up a big sign
over his grave?' l asked
What shall l put on the sign?"
he asked.
My idea for such a marker fol-
lows:
Here Lies
SPOT.
Who Fought Square and
in the Open,
Unlike the Yellow
Sneaking Coward Who
Poisoned Him.
4
All those who love dogs ought to
make ii a point to read Maurice
Maeterlinck's essay, Our Friend the
Dog" contained in the volume en-
titled The Double Garden"
Maeterlinck is the whipped cream
of literature. For steady, everyday
ha h ~ L "a htpf fnr
now-and- then consumption his es-
says have a flavor entirely their own.
A steady diet of whipped cream, 1t
must be admitted, would be some
thing to cloy the taste of the most
unmerciful punisher of delicacies.
Maeterlinck is like that. He can
be read only in pleasant doses.
II have lost, within these few
days, little bulldog" he begins.
"He had just completed the sixth
month of his brief existence. He had
no history. His intelligent eyes
opened to look out upon the world,
TO love mankind, then closed again
on the cruel secrets of death.
Thus begins this first essay in the
volume, published by Dodd, Mead &
Company In 1904. the old book which
we are reviewing today. Our Friend
the Dog is a good sample of the en-
tire collection, and also of all MaS>
terlinck's essays.
The translation. by Alexander Teix-
EZRA de Mattos, seems to give the lie
to the oft-repeated statement that
no translation can be as good as the
original. The essay is in colorful,
rhythmical English. so phrased that
it naturally falls into better free
verse" than most of the verse libre
one reads.
Pelleas was the name of Maeter
linck's dog. which came to an un-
timely end through distemper, rather
than through the poisoner.
He was beautiful after the man
ner of a beautiful natural monster
that has complied strictly with the
laws of its species" Surely this is
an adequate description of bulldog,
especially a well bred Boston, whose
marvellous ugliness is in fact beauti-
full.
MaeterIinck tells what the puppy
must go through. For this thank
less and rather sad head" he says,
was beginning the overwhelming
work that oppresses every brain at
the start of life. He had, in less
than five or six weeks, to get into
his mind, taking shape within IT. an
image and a satisfactory conception
of the universe. Man, aided by all
the knowledge of his own elders and
his brothers, takes 30 or 40 years TO
outline that conception, but the num-
BILE dog has to unravel it for him
self in few days"
So 1t becomes a question OF dis
covering that fire warns at a dis
tance, but hurts at close range; that
there is no use in trying to chase
cats up trees: that the kitchen is
the most agreeable place in the
divine dwelling; that certain things
can or cannot be done.
Do you ever curse your dog for
barking in the night? Then remem-
ber:
There is the great ancestral duty.
the essential duty, stronger than
death, which not even mans will and
anger are able to check. All our
humble history, linked with that OF
the dog in our first struggles against
every breathing thing, tends to pre-
vent his forgetting IT. And when
in our safer dwelling places OF today,