Things were strangely mixed up, the
real and the unreal grouped and mingled in a manner that
gave to all the just proportions and appearance of sober
actualities. I remember them as distinctly, and they made
as deep and abiding impression upon my mind as if I had
seen them all. They are impressed as palpably and indelibly
upon my memory now as any actual events of my life."
"Well," said the Doctor, "suppose you give us one of these 'kinks,'
while our pipes are being smoked out, as an 'opiate' to send us all
to sleep."
"Be it understood, then," Spalding began, "that I like dogs in a
general way. They are plain dealing, honest, trusty folk in the
aggregate, albeit, there are what Tom Benton calls, 'dirty dogs.'
These, however, are mostly human canines, dogs that walk on two legs,
and wear clothes. Such curs I _don't_ like. But there are such, and
they may be seen and heard, barking, and snarling, and snapping in
their envy, at honest peoples' heels every day. Let them bark. Mr.
Benton was right. They are 'dirty dogs.' But a dog that looks you
honestly and frankly in the face, that stands by his master and
friend, in all times of trial, in sorrow as in joy, in adversity as in
prosperity, in dark days as in bright days, always cheerful, always
sincere, earnest, and truthful, and so that his kindness be met,
always happy, I like.
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