Found my dear little dog dead, when I went out to him this morning, my little silent partner. I will miss him sorely. I thought it best to bury him at once on account of the other dogs, though I was sorry to do it without Jim, who has been so good to him.
Goliah felt most important in having to dig the grave, which was hard work, for I wanted it very deep. It took him a long time. Chloe, Lizette, and I, all assisted. About eighteen inches below this sandy soil is a thick stratum of very stiff clay.
I had some trouble to find a suitable box, but did find one, and then I put him in myself and put his ivory back brush in with him and his mosquito net, then covered him with the soft gray moss and closed the box and lowered it into the grave with ropes. Had Don and Prince in leash looking on. When we had finished filling in the earth, I said a little prayer asking the help of the Good Father to be as faithful to my duty as this little dumb beast had been to his.
I always remember that seventh verse of the thirty-sixth psalm of David, which comes in the Psalter for the seventh day, morning prayer, "Thou, Lord, shalt save both man and beast; how excellent is thy mercy, O Lord." We cannot fathom the mercy of the Infinite One.
Just as I finished Jim came and was quite shocked and distressed. We had thought MacDuff much better when he left yesterday. He said I ought to have waited for him. Chloe, Lizette, and Goliah had made quite a tall mound of clay over him and Jim begged me to let him take it down and rearrange it. Chloe said:—
"I tell Miss Pashuns 'tain't de fashion to hab a high grabe, but him say mus' put all de clay on."
I had scattered white clover seed over the mound, but I let Jim do what he wished and he spent some time over it; made a neat little mound the shape of a casket, then planted clover over it, and got some plants of petunia I had in a box, and planted them there. At the same time he made up little Zero's grave, which had got quite flat, and planted flowers and clover there.
I made the others rake up all the leaves and trash and burned it. I was afraid the other dogs might catch the disease, whatever it was—spinal meningitis or lockjaw, I think. This ends the chapter of one faithful little unit who did his best always.
Peaceville, Monday, September 18, 8 a.m., 1906.
It has been blowing a gale all night and the mercury has fallen nearly to fifty and I am looking into my trunks to find something thick to put on. Yesterday was a perfect autumn day but with just a little something in the air that suggested a storm and made me name Mosell's splendid new calf Equinox, and to-day there is no chance of having any kind of work done, for though the wind is so high the rain is falling steadily. 11 a.m., the storm is raging and as usual I am greatly excited and exhilarated by it. The voice of the Great Creator seems to be so distinct in the storm; "The floods clap their hands and the waves rage horribly, but the Lord is mightier."