“He became the cleverest of all the collies. One could talk to Wolf and get understanding and no back talk. One could depend on Wolf and get full loyalty. One could like Wolf and say so; and the soft cool nose would come poking around and the tail would begin to wag till it seemed as if Wolf would wag himself off his feet. “Wolf constituted himself warden of the Sunnybank lawns and custodian of the driveways. When motoring parties came in and endangered the lives of the puppies playing about the driveways, Wolf, at the first sound of the motor, would dash importantly down into the drive and would herd or chase every puppy out of harm’s way. “Each evening it was the habit of Wolf to saunter off on a long ‘walk.’ Three evenings ago he rambled away and-- “Down in the darkness at the railroad station some folk were waiting to see the Stroudsburg express flash by. It was a few minutes late. A nondescript dog, with a hunted, homeless droop to his tail, trotted onto the tracks. “Far down the line there came the warning screech of the express. The canine tramp didn’t pay any attention to it, but sat down to scratch at a flea. “The headlight of the express shot a beam glistening along the rails. Wolf saw the dog and the danger. With a bark and a snap, the son of Lad thrust the stranger off the track and drove him to safety. “The express was whistling, for a crossing, far past the station, when they picked up what was Wolf and started for the Terhune home.” All dogs die too soon. Many humans don’t die soon enough. A dog is only a dog. And a dog is too gorgeously normal and wholesome to be made ridiculous in death by his owner’s sloppy sentimentality. The stories of one’s dogs, like the recital of one’s dreams, are of no special interest to others. Perhaps I have talked overlong about these two collie chums of ours. Belatedly, I ask your forgiveness if I have bored you. ALBERT PAYSON TERHUNE. _“Sunnybank,” Pompton Lakes, New Jersey._