For My Part, The Good Novel Of

A Man Who Listens Because He Has Nothing To Say Can Hardly Be A Source Of Inspiration. The Only Listening That Counts Is That Of The Talker Who Alternately Absorbs And Expresses Ideas.

He Is Your Friend, Your Partner, Your Defender, Your Dog. You Are His Life, His Love, His Leader. He Will Be Yours, Faithful And True, To The Last Beat Of His Heart. You Owe It To Him To Be Worthy Of Such Devotion. Our Dogs Will Love And Admire The Meanest Of Us, And Feed Our Colossal Vanity With Their Uncritical Homage.

This Is The Sphinx Of The Hearthstone, The Little God Of Domesticity, Whose Presence Turns A House Into A Home.

The Dog Is Guided By Kindly Instinct To The Man Or Woman Whose Heart Is Open To His Advances. The Cat Often Leaves The Friend Who Courts Her, To Honor, Or To Harass, The Unfortunate Mortal Who Shudders At Her Unwelcome Caresses.

English Civilization Rests Largely Upon Tea And Cricket, With Mighty Spurts Of Enjoyment On Derby Day, And At Newmarket.