Moreover, there are other signs of what his master calls, let us hope with accuracy, a cruda viridisque senectus.  Quite a short time ago his muzzle, like the rest of him, was as black as ebony.  Now he wears a pair of thick white moustachios, which are comparable only with those worn by that great chieftain, Monsieur le Marechal JOFFRE.

In another way too our little dog gives proof that his years are advancing.  He used to welcome ecstatically the moment of the promenade; not that he intended thus to show any deference to the humans who were inviting him to take a walk, but that he thought it was a fine manly thing to do, and one that might bring about that fight of his against a neighbouring and detested deer-hound to which he looked forward as to one of his unachieved pleasures.  He therefore fell not more than one hundred yards behind his accompanists, and when this was pointed out to him made a very creditable effort to hurry up and rejoin.  Now, however, when taken for a duty-walk, he still barks a little at the outset, but thereafter begins at once to lag, and is found in an armchair when the party returns.  It is vain to remind him that in the old days he was called the little black feather for the lightness of his gait when puffed along by the gusts of a fierce nor’-easter.  Here is one of the complimentary stanzas that were lavished upon him by his young mistress:—­

    “Attend to your duty,
    My brave little Soo-ti,
  There isn’t much sun in the sky: 
    But we’ve sported together
    In all kinds of weather,
  My little black feather and I.”

It would be quite useless to lure him out with verse, and plain prose is equally ineffective when once he has made up his mind that he doesn’t mean to move.

One more sign of old age there is, which I may briefly describe.  He is always much agitated when his mistress packs her boxes to depart to an institution for higher education of which she is a member.  While this is going forward, Soo-ti will not stir from her room except it be to couch in the passage outside.  Thence he re-transfers himself to her room, and has been known, when the chief box is full of garments, to leap into it, to pad round in a circle three times, and to sink down with a sigh of satisfaction on what was once a very artistic bit of packing.  I do not say that this trick is entirely due to old age.  Nearly all dogs do it.  Only there was on the last occasion a special anxiety, and a more than usual persistence and querulousness which seemed to say, “Don’t go too far away, and come back soon, so that we may meet again before my eyes grow dim and my ears lose their keenness.”

* * * * *

    “In future all unmarried men and women having an income of $1,000
    will be taxed by the city.  Married men will not be taxed unless
    their income is over $1,500,000.”—­Canadian Gazette.