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Show CHATTER. (Being the personal opinions 'of- the writer and for which no one. else is in any manner responsible.) Julian S. Cutler, who lives' somewhere some-where back east, is responsible for the following bit of rhythmic sentiment, which was scissored from the columns of Our Dumb Animals, published by George T. Angoll, of Boston. It Is something that will be appreciated by many people. Those who do not appreciate ap-preciate it have no part or parcel In the good tilings of life, nor will they I In the life beyond, nor can they defend themselves from any such statement as Is herein made, for the man who docs not like dogs, children and (lowers is not of the earth, earthy, or of heaven heavenly. Draw your own inferences. Tho poem Is entitled "Roger and I," a title similar to another an-other dog poem of our childhood days. Hero It is: Well, Itogor, my dear old doggie, they say that your raco is run; And our jolly tramps together up and down tho world are dono; You're only a dog, old follow; a dog, and you've had your day; lint never a friend of all my friends has been truer than you alway. We've had glorious times together in the fields and pastures fair; In storm nnd sunny weather we havo romped without a care; And however men havo treated me, though foul or fair their deal However many tho friends that failed, I've found you true as steel. That's right, my dear old fellow, look up with your knowing eye, And lick my hand with your loving; tonguo that never has told a Ho,' And don't bo afraid, old doggie, If your time has como to go, For somewhere out in tho great Unknown Un-known there's a place for you. I know. Then don't you worry, old comrade; and don't you fear to die; For out in that fairer country I will iind you by and by; And I'll stand by you, old follow, and our love will surely win, For never a heaven shall harbor me, where they won't lot Roger in. When I reach that city glorious, behind be-hind the waiting dark, Just como and stand outsldo tho gate, and wag your tall and bark I'll hoar your voice, and I'll know It, and I'll como to ' the gato and say: "Saint Peter, that is my dog out thoro, you must let him como this way." And then If tho saint refuses, I'll go to tho One above, And say: "Old Roger is at tho gate, with his heart brim full of lovo; And tiu-ro Isn't a shining angel of all tho heavenly band Who over lived a nobler lifo than ho, in the Earthly land." Thon i know tho gato will open, and you will como frisking in, And we'll roam fair llelds together, in 'hat country free from sin. bo never you mind, old Roger, h your 'imo has come to go; on vo been true to me, I'll bo true to you and tho Lord is gobd, wo know. You are only a dog, old follow; a dog, ... nnd you've had your day I'm getting there myself, old boy, and I haven't long to stay; "t you've stood by mo, old comrade, and I'm bound to stand by you; don't you worry, old Roger, for ou love will pull us through. Do you know, that sentiment appeals ap-peals to mo? I feql just like Cutler. ,In tho past I havo owned several dogs and havo been acquainted with several more that "somewhere out in tho great unknown there's a placo for" and if there Isn't, something is wrong. I jWould rather go to heaven with some dogs I havo known than with xome men, and mako that statement with all duo reverence. Relieving that in. the land beyond tho sky tho dispositions dis-positions of men and women are changed until they are lit lor any one to live with, I expect that Paradise will be a right peaceful placo in which to dwell, but just think of being turned loose in the land that is fairer than day with all Its cities, its valleys, its shining rivers and Its cool groves clothed in beauty and after getting used to the placo a bit, look around for tho old dog and not find him. imagine accosting a bright' and shining shin-ing nngcl and asking him where old "Shop" is and have tho radiant being say that dogs have no souls; henco "Shop" is wiped off the map of existence. exist-ence. Then imagine bumping into the rejuvenated wraith of some skimpy, hide-bound, rasping, grasping, penurious, penur-ious, parsimonious, mean, scrubby, penny-wise, niggardly, close fisted, grudging, griping, ungenerous, mercenary, mer-cenary, vonal, covetous, avaricious, mackerel backed old pirate who lived on earth for tho solo purpose of loaning loan-ing money to poor people at live per cent a month. Wouldn't a fellow fool as If there was a screw looso In tho eternal fitness of things? Of coursa ho would. No, sir; there are dogs in heaven, and cats and kittens and birds, and rabbits, and littlo ilshos, and llowcrs and babies, and little puppies pup-pies and everything else in the line of animated creation that goes to mako existence hero below better and mora pleasant. They don't uso gold for money either and a fellow doesn't havo to hump himself from early morn until dowey evening trying to get enough of it to pay an installment on his plnno or his cook stove, for in thai land of pure delight they uso tho stuff for paving blociks, just to show how cheap it is; not for its beauty, for tli ere is nothing handsome about a gold brick. And when I walk through the gato of pearl up the main avenue, with its rows of grand old trees; where- tho fountains sparkle and tho air is full of music I expect that sitting sit-ting right inside will be that old fisto of mine, Frank, who used to run rabbits rab-bits and trco pheasants, and with him will bo old "Ring," my fox hound, nnd all his fourteen companions, and there will bo "Shop" and "Nap" and all tho other dogs I used to own, nnd when they see mo tho arches and towers of tho Now Jerusalem will fairly fair-ly quiver to the music of tholr welcome. wel-come. And wo won't loaf around tho middle of the town trying to play a harp, but wo will go out in tho Holds, and on tho wooded hills and I'll bet old "Ring" starts a fox in less tlmo than it takes mo to write it, and (hat over tho rising ground and down through tho dales they'll run tho bushy tailed ghost of the old boy until un-til ho holes up in some spectral excavation exca-vation in order that ho may livo on to amuse U3 eomo other tlmo. Dogs go to heaven? Why of courso they do. What sort or a heaven would it bo without dogs? It would be well iot'i stop right hero. |