MR. JELLIE WOULD STAND AND GAZE AT THIS URN, NOT IN SORROWFUL MEMORY OF THE PAST, BUT IN PERPLEXED AND PAINFUL CONSIDERATION OF THE PRESENT.
Herein Repose the Ashes of
NIBBIE,
Faithful Companion and Critic of
Aloysius Jellie.
He Died on the 17th Day of May, 19—,
A Martyr to
The Angry Passion of His Master.
Mr. Jellie would stand and gaze at this urn, not in sorrowful memory of the past, but in perplexed and painful consideration of the present. Mr. Jellie was not a superstitious man. But what had happened could be accounted for only by admitting the supernatural, and one miracle is as likely to happen as another. Was it Aloysius Jellie who had astounded the golfing world by averaging under 4s for 342 consecutive holes? Or was it in fact, in some mysterious manner—was it Nibbie?
But it was another query, a corollary of this, that caused the frequent frown of worried perplexity on Mr. Jellie’s brow. Finally, one evening in early August, he got Marsfield, the Orientalist, into a corner and asked him point-blank:
“How long does a dog’s soul stay on earth?”
The other gazed at him in astonishment.
“Why, bless me,” he responded, “I didn’t know a dog had any soul.”
“Of course not, of course not,” Mr. Jellie agreed hastily. “What I mean is, I remember once you spoke about some ancient belief—”
“Did I? Perhaps so. There are many interesting ancient ceremonies and beliefs connected with the canine family. The Moslems, like the old Hebrews, hold them to be unclean. They were worshipped by the Asgans, and the Egyptians honored them. The latter held a belief that the soul of a dog remains on earth after death, either to console or torment his master, according to the treatment he received in life.”
“Yes, that’s it,” said Mr. Jellie, eagerly. “And how long does—did—how long did they think the soul stayed around?”
“Three moons. That is equivalent to three months, or more accurately,
