"Your deduction is correct, if there be any such thing as soul. But, for the moment, I will not take that up. You have told enough to show that I am right as to the origin of your tale. It is also evident that you cannot hope to be under such emotional excitement at all times, when you might be called upon to write; to write or go without a meal. However, I have faith in you, and do not doubt that we shall find a way for you to earn as many meals as you shall need."
"Do you mean that you will assist me?"
"I will assist you, if I am correct in my present opinion of you. Young men who need and expect assistance, are rarely worthy of help. But I wish to talk about your essay. I like the line 'Was it murder to kill a dog?' and the one which follows, 'For only a dog I was; or may I say, I am?' Of course the word murder, strictly applied, means the killing of a man by his fellow. I think I comprehend what you mean here, but I would like you to explain it to me."
"Doctor, you compliment me by taking this so seriously. There is a deeper meaning in the words than might be detected by a superficial reader. As you say, the word murder applies only to the killing of a man, by a man. Or I might change the wording and say, the killing of a human being. Here, human implies the possession of those higher attributes, the aggregate of which is the soul, which by man is arrogantly claimed to exist exclusively in man. And it is the violent separation of this soul from its earthly body, which makes it the heinous crime, murder; while the beast, not possessing a soul, may be killed without scruple, and without crime. Hence I say, 'Was it murder to kill a dog?' and at once, in so few words, I raise the question as to whether the dog has not a soul."
"I follow you. Your explanation is only what I expected. I said that I liked the next line: 'For only a dog I was; or may I say, I am?' This time I will show you that I comprehend you. The question here implies much. If the dog is annihilated at death, then this dog ceased to exist when his master slew him. But he is speaking; he realizes that he continues to exist. Therefore, he says most pertinently, 'or may I say, I am?' The question carries its own affirmative, for what is not, cannot question its own existence. The subtilty here is very nice. You convince your reader by presenting what seems to be a self-evident proposition, and if he admits this, he must accord immortality to the dog, for he that after death may say 'I am' is immortal. But the flaw, which you have so well hidden, lies in the fact that you have started with the assumption of that which you have essayed to prove. You make the dead dog speak, which would be an impossibility had he been annihilated."
"I am delighted, Doctor, at the way in which you criticise me. But I am contending that the dog is immortal, hence my assumption at the very start, that though dead, he may record his sensations. I do not really mean to discuss the point, nor to prove it. I merely mean dogmatically to assume it. I picture a dog, who in life believed that death would be his total extinction, but who, when suddenly deprived of life, finds that he is still in existence, and endeavors to analyze his condition. If you will overlook the seeming egotism of pointing out what I think the most subtile idea, I would call your attention to the line where, concluding that he is immortal, he says 'Here I am,' and instantly asks 'Where am I?'"
"Yes. I had already admired that and what follows; but I will ask you to expound it yourself."
"You are very kind," said Leon, pleased, and eager to talk upon his subject. "He asks where he is, and after a moment decides that he is in his master's mind. Then he argues truly that, as mind is but a part, or attribute of the soul, if the soul be immortal, the mind and all that it contains must live on, also. Therefore, being in the man's mind, he needs only to stay there, to escape annihilation. Then he adds, that he will prick the man's conscience forever. Here is something more than a mere dogmatism. None will deny that the wanton killing of a dog can never be forgotten, and if the dog remains in one's mind, is not that a sort of immortality?"
"Sophistry, my boy, sophistry; but clever. The idea is original, and well conceived for the purpose of your narrative. But, like many deductions assumed to be logical, it is illogical, because your premises are wrong. It is not the dog, nor his spirit, that abides in the mind and assails the conscience. What the man tries in vain to forget is the thought of killing the beast, and thought, of course, is immutable; but it does not at all follow that the thing of which we think is imperishable."
"I see your meaning, Doctor, and of course you are right. But do you side with the Christian, and claim that the dog is annihilated, while man is immortal?"