“Pluto was own cousin to Master Magrath, the famous hound. He was a gentler nature every way than Thor, who was grand, dignified, without attachments or associates except in his (our) own family; reserved, and withdrawing himself from all attentions--even those of our friends. Yet he had intense devotion to the General, to both my sons, and to my daughter, and was very fond of me too, but in an indulgent sort of way, because I belonged with the rest. He had sense and a faithful heart. The latter gave him great pain; for to a dog you cannot explain that a parting is not necessarily final; and it was saddening to see his distress when the General would go away in Arizona. And when after weeks or months he returned, there was always a general rush to move small tables, etc., out of range, for Thor would go wild over him, leaping up to lick his face, jumping wildly about him, putting his great paws on the General’s shoulders, and rubbing his grizzled muzzle against the General’s face, with cries almost human, and painful, hysterical joy. Everything had to give way to him. He had to be petted and quieted down like an excited baby; but even in his sleep, afterwards, he would cry out and quiver all over, and the waking would be a subdued repetition of the first joy. Thor’s name is never carelessly mentioned even now, six years after his death.” Mrs. Frémont has also commemorated, in her “Story of the Guard,” a little terrier named Corporal, which belonged to the band of gallant young men known as General Frémont’s Body-Guard. He was not pure-bred, but that did not matter--sense and fidelity being happily independent of birth. He had joined the Guards while they were in camp at St. Louis, became a general favorite, and when they made their splendid charge at Springfield, Mo., charged with them. The wild dash over, he remained on the field all night with a wounded soldier, sped away for help when morning dawned, coaxed and pulled until he persuaded a man to follow, and thus succeeded in saving his friend’s life. In memory of this brave deed the men bought him a collar, bright as red leather and silver could make it, with the inscription: CORPORAL, THE BODY-GUARD’S DOG. Springfield, Oct., 1861. But although dogs are such good soldiers, they are no braver than horses; while Pussy, their hereditary rival, keeps fairly abreast with them in war as in peace. The Grenadiers’ Cat was contemporary with Bobby, a courageous sharer in several hard-fought battles, and one of the lamented slain at Balaklava. Another regimental cat was found by Colonel Stuart Wortley, after the storming of the Malakoff, with one foot pinned to the earth by a bayonet. He took her to a surgeon, who dressed the wounded paw; and after her recovery, adopting her preserver, she used to follow the colonel “all over the camp, with her tail carried stiff in the air.”