Honest Jack.
Being a feeble endeavour to express the well-engendered regret of T. H., Esq., at the loss of a singularly handsome and very good black and tanned terrier dog, which, following his natural avocation of rat hunting, unfortunately picked up some poison laid there for the destruction of vermin and so met his death. His kind master did (and caused others to do) all that could be thought of to nullify the dread action of the potent mineral, but without effect; and so Jack died, and was buried under a pear tree in his sorrowing master's garden.
Epitaph.
Who love not dogs, I bid them to stand free!
A black tanned terrier rests beneath this tree;
Not master's love nor medicine could save
This best of canines from a cold, cold grave;
Sages may cavil at and blame my grief,
Holding that love for dogs is past belief;
And perhaps 'tis not the term one should apply,
But sooth I wept when poor Jack came to die.
And mark, I blush not; cynics may smile on;
Could tears have saved him. Jack had never gone;
My dog was honest, faithful, good, and true;
May I, kind reader, say the same of you!
Well, let that pass, I cannot call thee back;
And so farewell for ever, honest Jack!
Lose the key of the cellar, spoil the lock of the cupboard, button :up your breeches pocket; give a month's notice thereof, and then count your friends!
