Beautiful Joe [104]
be, but don't think anybody knows much about
it. We've got to wait."
Miss Laura's eyes fell on me. "Harry" she said, "do you think that dumb animals
will go to heaven?"
"I shall have to say again, I don't know," he replied. "Some people hold that
they do. In a Michigan paper, the other day, I came across one writer's opinion
on the subject. He says that among the best people of all ages have been some
who believed in the future life of animals. Homer and the later Greeks, some of
the Romans and early Christians held this view the last believing that God sent
angels in the shape of birds to comfort sufferers for the faith. St. Francis
called the birds and beasts his brothers. Dr. Johnson believed in a future life
for animals, as also did Wordsworth, Shelley, Coleridge, Jeremy Taylor, Agassiz,
Lamartine, and many Christian scholars. It seems as if they ought to have some
compensation for their terrible sufferings in this world. Then to go to heaven,
animals would only have to take up the thread of their lives here. Man is a god
to the lower creation. Joe worships you, much as you worship your Maker. Dumb
animals live in and for their masters. They hang on our words and looks, and are
dependent on us in almost every way. For my own part, and looking at it from an
earthly point of view, I wish with all my heart that we may find our dumb
friends in paradise."
"And in the Bible," said Miss Laura, "animals are often spoken of. The dove and
the raven, the wolf and the lamb, and the leopard, and the cattle that God says
are his, and the little sparrow that can't fall to the ground without our
Father's knowing it."
"Still, there's nothing definite about their immortality," said Mr. Harry.
"However, we've got nothing to do with that. If it's right for them to be in
heaven, we'll find them there. All we have to do now is to deal with the
present, and the Bible plainly tells us that 'a righteous man regardeth the life
of his beast.'"
"I think I would be happier in heaven if dear old Joe were there," said Miss
Laura, looking wistfully at me. "He has been such a good dog. Just think how he
has loved and protected me. I think I should be lonely without him."
"That reminds me of some poetry, or rather doggerel," said Mr. Harry, "that I
cut out of a newspaper for you yesterday;" and he drew from his pocket a little
slip of paper, and read this:
"Do doggies gang to heaven, Dad?
Will oor auld Donald gang?
For noo to tak' him, faither wi' us,
Wad be maist awfu' wrang."
There was a number of other verses, telling how many kind things old Donald the
dog had done for his master's family, and then it closed with these lines:
"Withoot are dogs. Eh, faither, man,
'Twould be an awfu' sin
To leave oor faithfu' doggie there,
He's certain to win in.
"Oor Donald's no like ither dogs,
He'll no be lockit oot,
If Donald's no let into heaven,
I'll no gang there one foot."
"My sentiments exactly," said a merry voice behind Miss Laura and Mr. Harry, and
looking up they saw Mr. Maxwell. He was holding out one hand to them, and in the
other kept back a basket of large pears that Mr. Harry promptly took from him,
and offered to Miss Laura "I've been dependent upon animals for the most part of
my comfort in this life," said Mr. Maxwell, "and I sha'n't be happy without them
in heaven. I don't see how you would get on without Joe, Miss Morris, and I want
my birds, and my snake, and my horse how can I live without them? They're almost
all my life here."
"If some animals go to heaven and not others, I think that the dog has the first
claim," said Miss Laura. "He's the friend of man the oldest and best. Have you
ever heard the legend about him and Adam?"
"No," said Mr. Maxwell.
"Well, when Adam was turned out of paradise, all the animals shunned him, and he
sat bitterly weeping with his head between his hands, when he felt the soft
tongue of some creature gently touching him. He took his hands from his face,
it. We've got to wait."
Miss Laura's eyes fell on me. "Harry" she said, "do you think that dumb animals
will go to heaven?"
"I shall have to say again, I don't know," he replied. "Some people hold that
they do. In a Michigan paper, the other day, I came across one writer's opinion
on the subject. He says that among the best people of all ages have been some
who believed in the future life of animals. Homer and the later Greeks, some of
the Romans and early Christians held this view the last believing that God sent
angels in the shape of birds to comfort sufferers for the faith. St. Francis
called the birds and beasts his brothers. Dr. Johnson believed in a future life
for animals, as also did Wordsworth, Shelley, Coleridge, Jeremy Taylor, Agassiz,
Lamartine, and many Christian scholars. It seems as if they ought to have some
compensation for their terrible sufferings in this world. Then to go to heaven,
animals would only have to take up the thread of their lives here. Man is a god
to the lower creation. Joe worships you, much as you worship your Maker. Dumb
animals live in and for their masters. They hang on our words and looks, and are
dependent on us in almost every way. For my own part, and looking at it from an
earthly point of view, I wish with all my heart that we may find our dumb
friends in paradise."
"And in the Bible," said Miss Laura, "animals are often spoken of. The dove and
the raven, the wolf and the lamb, and the leopard, and the cattle that God says
are his, and the little sparrow that can't fall to the ground without our
Father's knowing it."
"Still, there's nothing definite about their immortality," said Mr. Harry.
"However, we've got nothing to do with that. If it's right for them to be in
heaven, we'll find them there. All we have to do now is to deal with the
present, and the Bible plainly tells us that 'a righteous man regardeth the life
of his beast.'"
"I think I would be happier in heaven if dear old Joe were there," said Miss
Laura, looking wistfully at me. "He has been such a good dog. Just think how he
has loved and protected me. I think I should be lonely without him."
"That reminds me of some poetry, or rather doggerel," said Mr. Harry, "that I
cut out of a newspaper for you yesterday;" and he drew from his pocket a little
slip of paper, and read this:
"Do doggies gang to heaven, Dad?
Will oor auld Donald gang?
For noo to tak' him, faither wi' us,
Wad be maist awfu' wrang."
There was a number of other verses, telling how many kind things old Donald the
dog had done for his master's family, and then it closed with these lines:
"Withoot are dogs. Eh, faither, man,
'Twould be an awfu' sin
To leave oor faithfu' doggie there,
He's certain to win in.
"Oor Donald's no like ither dogs,
He'll no be lockit oot,
If Donald's no let into heaven,
I'll no gang there one foot."
"My sentiments exactly," said a merry voice behind Miss Laura and Mr. Harry, and
looking up they saw Mr. Maxwell. He was holding out one hand to them, and in the
other kept back a basket of large pears that Mr. Harry promptly took from him,
and offered to Miss Laura "I've been dependent upon animals for the most part of
my comfort in this life," said Mr. Maxwell, "and I sha'n't be happy without them
in heaven. I don't see how you would get on without Joe, Miss Morris, and I want
my birds, and my snake, and my horse how can I live without them? They're almost
all my life here."
"If some animals go to heaven and not others, I think that the dog has the first
claim," said Miss Laura. "He's the friend of man the oldest and best. Have you
ever heard the legend about him and Adam?"
"No," said Mr. Maxwell.
"Well, when Adam was turned out of paradise, all the animals shunned him, and he
sat bitterly weeping with his head between his hands, when he felt the soft
tongue of some creature gently touching him. He took his hands from his face,