P OOR REX The boy was having difficulty with his pup,
Which followed any feet it encountered. He came, finally, to my own and I stood still. lie don't bark nor nothin',' said the boy. :Plot like the other one.' I waited to hear more. Nor Rex was always barkin'. Nobody could Make 'im shut up.' Rex, it turned out, had been a notorious dog known to almost every- one in the village. He had been a car and motor-cycle chaser, a terror to cyclists, barker at Passers-by and a powerful nuisance all round. The boys, however, had been fond of Rex, who always joined them, stiff-legged and grizzled though he was, when they baited a eat, raided an orchard or carried war to the ragtag of what is known as the lower village. P.ne day, as it was written, poor Rex pestered his last cyclist, whirled along barking at his last wheel, and paid his account. The post office van cut him off from his grey hairs. 'It Was a pure accident,' said his youthful owner.
'He never learnt nothin'. That was his trouble. I told him often enough what would happen.' Not all philosophers have beards.
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