A DOG OF FLANDERS. 25

of any torture, or of any curses. _ Pa-
trasche lay, dead to all appearances,
down in the white powder of the
~ summer dust. After a while, finding
it useless to assail his ribs with pun-
ishment and his ears with maledic-
tions, the Brabantois—deeming life
gone in him, or going so nearly that
his carcass was forever useless, unless
indeed some one should strip it of the
skin for gloves —cursed him fiercely
in farewell, struck off the leathern
bands of the harness, kicked his
body heavily aside into the grass,
and, groaning and muttering in sav-
age wrath, pushed the cart lazily
along the road up hill, and left the
dying dog there for the ants to
sting and for the crows to pick.