In Man's Most Dark Extremity Oft Succour

I Am She, O Most Bucolical Juvenal, Under Whose Charge Are Placed The Milky Mothers Of The Herd.

Mankind — The Race Would Perish Did They Cease To Aid Each Other.

So Faithful In Love, And So Dauntless In War, There Never Was Knight Like Young Lochinvar.

A Mother's Pride, A Father's Joy.

I Have Sometimes Thought Of The Final Cause Of Dogs Having Such Short Lives And I Am Quite Satisfied It Is In Compassion To The Human Race; For If We Suffer So Much In Losing A Dog After An Acquaintance Of Ten Or Twelve Years, What Would It Be If They Were To Live Double That Time?