ISO OUR DOGS. 



But the fatigues of nursing exhausted the delicate consti 

 tution of poor Florence, and she lay all one day in spasms. 

 It became evident that a tranquil passage must be secured 

 for Milton and Beethoven to the land of shades, or their 

 little mother would go there herself; and accordingly they 

 vanished from this life. 



As to poor Flo, the young medical student in the family 

 took her into a water-cure course of treatment, wrapping 

 her in a wet napkin first, and then in his scarlet flannel 

 dressing-gown, and keeping a wet cloth with iced water 

 round her head. She looked out of her wrappings, patient 

 and pitiful, like a very small old African female, in a very 

 serious state of mind. To the glory of the water-cure, 

 however, this course in one day so cured her, that she 

 was frisking about the next, happy as if nothing had hap 

 pened. 



She had, however, a slight attack of the spasms, which 

 caused her to run frantically and cry to have the hall-door 

 opened ; and when it was opened, she scampered up in all 

 haste into the chamber of her medical friend, and, not 

 finding him there, jumped upon his bed, and began with 

 her teeth and paws to get around her the scarlet dressing- 

 gown in which she had found relief before. So she was 

 again packed in wet napkins, and after that never had 

 another attack. 



After this, Florence was begged from us by a lady who 



