With these three lovers of the canine race must be grouped a fourth, the good physician, Doctor John Brown of Edinburgh. He has written about dogs as only Landseer has painted them--sympathetically, lovingly, with intuitive comprehension of dog-nature. “Rab and his Friends” is an idyl that brings tears for sole applause; “Our Dogs” is a Shakespearean comedy, over which we smile or softly laugh. We remember them as we remember only the intensely alive. Still we see that night procession where the living guides homeward the beautiful dead, with faithful Rab slow-following behind. [Illustration: PITY THE SORROWS OF US HOMELESS DOGS] Then the scene changes, and “Our Dogs” frolic over the stage. A daring little fellow leads them--the one that begged admission to the band by a look that said _Cur non_? Here is Toby the Tyke, with his unequaled tail and moral excellence; here Wylie, the collie, blithe, beautiful and kind; and here Rab himself, whose baby outlines are imagined in a funny sketch by Dr. Brown. Here is Wasp, the dog-of-business; here, Jock, “insane from his birth,” as might be expected of a dog whose mother was called Vampire, and whose father, Demon. Enter the Dutchess, of wee body and great soul; enter Crab, John Pym, and Puck; pass as enter Dick and Peter, Jock and Bob. In fact, Bob closes the list, and his character was thus briefly summed up for me in a room in Edinburgh made sacred by mementoes of his master. “Bob,” said my informant, “was the last dog we had, and really he was too much for us all. He was very pure-bred,--so pure, that my brother used to say it had driven the wits from him. He had no discretion whatever, yet at the same time so much energy that he was always getting both himself and us into trouble. He became very grubby at last,--oh! very grubby, indeed, and we were obliged to dispose of him.” [Illustration: Dr. JOHN BROWN, DR. PEDDIE, AND DANDIE. (_From photograph, by permission of Mr. Moffat, Edinburgh._)] The Edinburgh refuge for lost dogs found a warm advocate in Dr. Brown; his sketch of two little terriers supporting a hat for contributions appeals to us still to pity the sorrows of homeless dogs. Even more vividly does it recall the artist--that kindest gentleman and friend who spent his life in caring for the needy, sick, and sad. Here in the picture you see him--the same kind presence as in life--seated with Dr. Peddie, and Dr. Peddie’s Dandie. This photograph was taken in 1880. Dandie belonged to Dr. Peddie, but was a great favorite with Dr. John whom (as both gentlemen lived on the same street) he visited daily, never seeming content until his regular call was made. [Illustration: DRINKING FOUNTAIN MONUMENT TO GREYFRIARS’ BOBBY, EDINBURGH.] Very unlike the homeless, boneless paupers of Dr. Brown’s Plea, is an Edinburgh dog now living, to whose luxurious habits the following anecdote, given me by one acquainted with its truth, bears witness.