Then as to the tail--the modulations of meaning in the varied wag
of that expressive member--oh! it's useless to attempt description.
Mortal man cannot conceive of the delicate shades of sentiment
expressible by a dog's tail, unless he has studied the subject--the
wag, the waggle, the cock, the droop, the slope, the wriggle! Away
with description--it is impotent and valueless here!
As we have said, Crusoe was meek and mild. He had been bitten, on the
sly, by half the ill-natured curs in the settlement, and had only
shown his teeth in return. He had no enmities--though several
enemies--and he had a thousand friends, particularly among the ranks
of the weak and the persecuted, whom he always protected and avenged
when opportunity offered. A single instance of this kind will serve to
show his character.
One day Dick and Crusoe were sitting on a rock beside the lake--the
same identical rock near which, when a pup, the latter had received
his first lesson. They were conversing as usual, for Dick had elicited
such a fund of intelligence from the dog's mind, and had injected such
wealth of wisdom into it, that he felt convinced it understood every
word he said.
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