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He was surrounded by a group of fellow-heroes who hailed my coming with considerable enthusiasm. "Your bunky's leaving" said somebody. "Going to Paris" volunteered a man who had been trying for three months to get there. "Prison you mean" remarked a confirmed optimist whost disposition had felt the effects of French climate.
Mack r-rose up in a perfect hurcane iv applause, an' says he, 'Gintlemen, he says, 'an' fellow-heroes, he says, 'ye do me too much honor; he says. 'I alone shud not have th' credit iv this gloryous victhry. 'We have just emerged fr'm a turrible war, he says. 'Again, he says, 'we ar-re a united union, he says. 'No north, he says, 'no south, no east, he says, 'no west.
Oh, if I could but see the dog Medor. . . . The dog Medor brought his master his gun and cartridge-box, and when his master fell, and was buried with his fellow-heroes in the Court of the Louvre, there stayed the poor dog like a monument of faithfulness, sitting motionless on the grave, day and night, eating but little of the food that was offered him—burying the greater part of it in the earth, perhaps as nourishment for his buried master!”
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