And of the dog Touton, left him by Madame du Deffand, he said: “It is incredible how fond I am of it; but I have no occasion to brag of my _dogmanity_” (another expressive word). He said, “A dog, though a flatterer, is still a friend.” Byron, that egotistic, misanthropic genius, composed an epitaph on Boatswain, his favourite dog, whose death threw the moody poet into deepest melancholy. The dog’s grave is to the present day shown among the conspicuous objects at Newstead. The poet, in one of his impulsive moments, gave orders in a provision of his will—ultimately however, cancelled—that his own body should be buried by the side of Boatswain, as his truest and only friend. This noble animal was seized with madness, and so little was his lordship aware of the fact, that at the beginning of the attack he more than once, during the paroxysms, wiped away the dreaded saliva from his mouth. After his death Lord Byron wrote to his friend Mr. Hodges: “Boatswain is dead. He died in a state of madness on the 18th, after suffering much, yet retaining all the gentleness of his nature to the last, never attempting to do the least injury to any one near him. I have now lost everything excepting old Murray.” Visitors to his old estate will find a marked monument with this tribute: NEAR THIS SPOT ARE DEPOSITED THE REMAINS OF ONE THAT POSSESSED BEAUTY, WITHOUT VANITY, STRENGTH, WITHOUT INSOLENCE, COURAGE, WITHOUT FEROCITY, AND ALL THE VIRTUES OF MAN, WITHOUT HIS VICES. THIS PRAISE, WHICH WOULD BE UNMEANING FLATTERY IF INSCRIBED OVER HUMAN ASHES, IS BUT A JUST TRIBUTE TO THE MEMORY OF BOATSWAIN, A DOG, WHO WAS BORN IN NEWFOUNDLAND, MAY, 1803, AND DIED AT NEWSTEAD ABBEY, NOVEMBER 18, 1808. _Epitaph._