JOE CREED.
We cannot leave the subject without paying tribute to our friend and companion, Joe Creed. Joe is a large resolute dog of an amiable disposition, a dirty yellow coat, and a small bright eye of the same color. He has a keen sense of duty, but never leaves the blind until he sees the game falling, when he proceeds to bring it in. He was undoubtedly born for it. If two birds fall, with almost human intelligence he gets both. Taking the farthest first, stopping on his way in to pick up the other, he comes in with one swinging on each side of his great shaggy head. They tell of him that he has been caught stealing sheep. We do not believe it—it is a mistake; he may have been in bad company, that is all. Joe was the property of a gentleman on Long Island, and we trusted his exploits in the North might vie with his achievements in the South.
"When some proud son of man returns to earth,
Unknown to glory but upheld by birth,
The sculptor's art exhausts the pomp of woe,
And storied urns record who rests below;
When all is done, upon the tomb is seen,
Not what he was, but what he should have been;
But the poor dog, in life the firmest friend,
The first to welcome, foremost to defend;
Whose heart is still his master's own,
Who labors, fights, lives, breathes for him alone,
Unhonored falls."
But Joe came to an untimely end; he was found shot to death. The following was placed over his grave:
"Near this spot
Are deposited the remains of one
Who possessed beauty without vanity,
Strength without insolence,
Courage without ferocity,
And all the virtues of man without his vices."
Born in North Carolina, March, 1875.
Died at Jamaica, Long Island, March, 1876.
