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Saunders, Marshall, 1861-1947

"Beautiful Joe An Autobiography of a Dog"

We have not
seen him for some weeks, and to tell the truth, this trip is as much to
see what has become of him, as to make a demand upon him for the money.
As he lives alone, he might lie there ill, and no one would know
anything about it. The last time that we knew of his coming to the
village was to draw quite a sum of money from the bank. It annoyed
father, for he said he might take some of it to pay his debts. I think
his relatives in England supply him with funds. Here we are at the
entrance to the mansion of Penhollow. I must get out and open the gate
that will admit us to the winding avenue."
We had arrived in front of some bars which were laid across an opening
in the snake fence that ran along one side of the road. I sat down and
looked about. It was a strange, lonely place. The trees almost met
overhead, and it was very dim and quiet. The sun could only send little
straggling beams through the branches. There was a muddy pool of water
before the bars that Mr. Harry was letting down, and he got his feet wet
in it. "Confound that Englishman," he said, backing out of the water,
and wiping his boots on the grass.


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