A DOG’S DEVOTION.
Kind hands did for him all that could be done, and while feeble and heart-broken he appeared to suffer no pain. The dog never left him there, the two throughout that fateful Sunday clung together. Toward 3 o’clock in the afternoon the old man, still sitting in a rocking-chair, covered in blankets, no dry bed being available, appeared drowsy. This was only natural from fatigue and age, but when the head gently bent forward it was the sleep of death. However, such a gentle passing away of the soul could not be termed by such a harsh name; it was more a caress, in which the transition of the soul was wafted from the body.
The dog all these hours had nestled close to the old man’s feet under the blanket, never sleeping, but guarding carefully the master. When the feet became cold, then the four-footed hero scented trouble. He tried to lie on them with his body. This not answering, he licked the cold feet; still no warmth. Then he sprang into the rocking-chair in which the corpse sat, carefully covered in sheets, tried to warm the body by covering it as much as possible with his own shaggy hair. By force the dog had to be taken away and locked up, for in his instinct he scented something wrong with the old man and strove to make things right by supplying the warmth of his own body. Such scenes as this old man’s beautiful death and the dog’s deep devotion are among the sublime lessons.
Photographers are hourly taking views of the ruins. However, there is a picture about the debris which demands a sketch to itself. The Sacred Heart Church before the storm had in the right aisle, near the altar, erected to the mother of Christ, a large crucifix affixed to a pillar. Now all the sides of this church are demolished save where this crucifix in this pillar stands and the crucifix untouched. It is a sight not to be forgotten to see this image of the Man of Sorrows looking down upon the ruin everywhere.