Greyfriars Bobby,—the dog that gained so much fame the other
day in Edinburgh by his proved fidelity to a master eight years dead, on whose grave he has slept every night for that period,— has shown himself superior to our human world, not only in the fidelity of his attachment to one whom he can no longer see, but also in the contempt and annoyance with which he regards his present popularity. Since the magistrates granted him a free licence under the new dog-tax,—for he belongs to no living master, and the dog-tax cannot be collected from beyond the grave,—he has been a great lion in Edinburgh, which he much dislikes. His only two conditions of existence are his graveyard bed and his dinner at the stroke of one. Adaairing pats annoy and provoke him. Cowper made a great fuss about a dog which swam out to crop a water-lily for him in the Ouse, exclaiming, "My dog shall mortify the pride Of man's superior brood," —and deducing a pious moral for himself from Beau's love for him and regard for his least wish. What would he have thought of a dog who,—it is impossible to say which,—could retain the memory of a dead master for eight years, and despise mankind for their irrelevant admiration ? Surely that dog is as immortal as the invisible master he still loves.
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