It would be easy to cite examples, among all classes, of the great and good, of this love of animals, especially of dogs. Poems have been composed on them, anecdotes collected of them, biographies written of them, all telling of the desire felt by the heart to have something to love and protect that will love in return.

They are to be pitied who have it not, for it is certainly a source of innocent pleasure, to say the least of it; and considering, as an old gentleman used deploringly to say, how few lawful pleasures there are in this world, it is as well to enjoy such as we have.

I began this chapter with the idea of merely pointing out how much the presence and companionship of the animal creation heightens the enjoyment of out-of-doors occupations; but I believe still more pleasure, and solace too, is felt in the society of a pet by the solitary and the invalid. Among the aged poor this is often met with; and harsh indeed must be the heart that would blame them for keeping and feeding what you may deem a useless animal. "It is a kind of company to me," is the touching excuse made by those who, either bedridden or living alone, cherish a pet bird, a cat, or one of these queer nondescripts supposed to be of the canine race. If there is pleasure in being able to give one's favourites the range of a garden or an aviary, there is more intimacy, more affection on both sides, when the captivity is closer, the sphere of both parties more circumscribed. A bird, tame enough to be allowed to come out of the cage and fly about the room, is a great source of cheerful enjoyment to any one confined to one room, either by a sedentary and solitary occupation, or by the more depressing effects of long illness. Its merry notes, active movements, and confiding trust, often win the lonely invalid from sad thoughts; and even when in its little prison, its cheerful content and half shy attempts at making friends are very attractive. Of course, preferences vary: some may and do prefer a quiet comfort-loving pussy as a room-mate, but it may be from habit and association. I cannot but feel that there is more alleviating pleasure derived from a tame bird by the sick or solitary than from any animal, even a dog. Marked as is often the attachment that keeps a dog beside one it loves, lying quietly for many a long day beside the sufferer, - it feels more selfish to allow it to do so, than to retain beside one a bird habituated to a cage. There is an odd sort of comfort, too, in the consciousness that one can't spoil a bird, whereas it is quite possible to make a spoiled pet of a dog or cat, and these are quite as tyrannical, and almost as disagreeable, as a spoiled child.

It were endless to quote passages from prose writers in favour of our pets; the clogs of our celebrated men are as well known almost as their masters. Who is there that has not heard of Sir Walter's Maida and Crab, of the Ettrick shepherd's Luath and Yarrow, of Rab and his friends?

But we may indulge ourselves, and conclude this chapter with some poetical tributes to the love felt for bird and beast by those gifted ones, who know the truth of Coleridge's words -

"He prayeth well, who loveth well Both man, and bird, and beast."