Alack-a-day for Mr. D.! When he saw his kind mistress toddling along to
the receptacle of many a remnant of many a luxurious feast, he was,
perchance, filled with affection. Melting tears came to his eyes, and
poured, like a cataract, down his noble cheeks. Would it do to have his
loving mistress witness the outburst of his long pent-up feelings? Alas!
No. He must hide his tears. He tore his tail from the wag which was
about to seize it, and gently wiped away his tears! Poor fellow! Your
heart warms towards him, and you stretch out your hands to embrace him,
or to kiss him for his mother, perhaps. How must the author have felt?
If there was one grain of compassion in him, he would feel as I do, as
you do, as we all do, and trust that the loving affection of that poor
dog would be amply repaid by the promised "bone."

The decrees of Fate are inexorable, however. When she went to the
Cupboard, the Cupboard was bare; had not even one bare bone, and so that
poor heroic dog "had none." [Very long O.] I pity him truly, and fain
would shed tears of grief over his melancholy affliction, if I wasn't so
awfully warm. For was never dog so disappointed as this dog. "Nev-a-r-e,
by all-l-l that's h-h-holy-y-y-e-e."[E]

Not wishing to be an unwilling witness to the sad scene which was
enacted between these two loving creatures on the disappointment of
their fondest hopes, I will draw the curtain, and leave them, solitary
and alone--alone with themselves, and with no aching eye to witness
their grief, to give vent to their heart-bursting anguish.

The author did wisely and well to close the Canto.

Let us have--a rest!