And he stooped over him to hide his tears.
"Was he old?" I asked.
"Just turned five; the prime age, you know; at four they are too young, and at six they are aging: five is the age for a dog. That was why he was such a beauty; see what a coat he had, what a deep broad chest, and such a back! I'll take a bet with any one, you can hear that dog's bark for miles along the coast; that is to say, one could have heard it, for Dash's barking is all ended and over now".
Thus poor William sat lamenting over his lost favourite, recording his virtues and some of his many exploits, when I saidâ
"I suppose you will bury him in Miss Murray's garden?"
"No, that I shan't". he replied indignantly, "he shall be buried where he fell, as they bury soldiers after battle".