ran a great danger this summer.
The coachman, leaving in dudgeon, poisoned the oats with Paris green, a diabolical act which the Journal chronicles with indignation.
Fortunately the deed was discovered in time.
She was always thoughtful of animals.
During the reign at 241 Beacon Street of the little fox-terrier Patch, it often fell to her lot to take him out to walk, and she felt this a grave responsibility.
One day Patch ran away on Beacon Street, and would not come back when she called him. At this instant Dr. Holmes
, passing, paused for a friendly greeting.
“ Mrs. Howe
,” he said, “I trust this fine morning--”
“ Catch the dog
cried Mrs. Howe
. One author flew one way, one the other; between the two Patch was caught and brought in triumph home.
One dog story recalls another.
She was in the North Station
one day, about to start for Gardiner
, as was also the setter Diana
, crated and very unhappy.
said the baggage-master; “you set here and be company for the dog, and I'll get your check!”
She complied meekly, and was found somewhat later by her escort, “being company” for a much-comforted Diana