Little Poems in Prose

VIII THE DOG AND THE FLASK “HERE, pupsikins, good doggie, nice doggie! Come and smell this delicious scent; it is by the best perfumer in town.” And the dog, wag- ging his tail, which is, I suppose, for these poor creatures the sign which corresponds to smiles and laughter, comes near and with great curi- osity rests his nose upon the unstoppered flask; then, suddenly recoiling in fright, he barks at me reproachfully. Ah, wretched dog, if I had offered you a parcel of ordure you would have sniffed it with delight and very likely eaten it up! Unworthy companion of this sad life of mine, how you re- semble the public, to whom one must never present the delicate perfumes which only ex- asperate it, but carefully selected scraps of nastiness!