Raggety and The Dear Man Who Passed
Of one of his friendships I must make special mention, because the mortal part of it is no more. The Dear Man lived among Books, and about his Book House stood tall oaks inhabited by bands of quite tame squirrels. They were tame because they were loved by The Man and fed from his hands. I have seen Raggety sit in twitching self-control watching the squirrels feed, divided painfully between his desire to pursue those virtuous squirrels and his love of The Dear Man whose heart he could not grieve by the vain pursuit. When The Book Man wrote his noble tribute to The Dear Man, Raggety appropriately ran into the pages.
The Dear Man went away one summer and never returned, and the squirrels have grown wild and fearful, for the hands that fed them feed them no more.
Almost the last message from The Dear Man before He Passed was to Raggety. I give it to you as it stands to-day, and on the reverse of the card is a colored picture of the blooming orchards of Montana.
Master Raggety:
I’m thinking of a far-away dog, a companion even as he seeks companionship, who has a mind of his own, interests of his own, an independence of his own, but who gives his little heart away to those whom it elects, and who look upon him to love him.
He who writes this begs that he will stand before the two friends who are with him and thus be the messenger to them of this friend’s love.
1 July, 1911.