And glory in the living day.
Before me in the path he leaps.
He reads my mood, and bids me, "Come!
Sweet Summer's in the wooded deeps!"
And yet men say that he is dumb.
—Jack Burroughs.
Frederick was sitting on the curb, crying, when Billy came along and asked him what was the matter.
"Oh, I feel so bad 'cause Major's dead—my nice old collie!" sobbed Frederick.
"Shucks!" said Billy. "My grandmother's been dead a week, and you don't catch me crying."