OUR DOGS. 139 



In fact, there was about Wix something so elfish and 

 impish, that there began to be shrewd suspicions that he 

 must be somehow or other a descendant of the celebrated 

 poodle of Faust, and that one need not be surprised some 

 day to have him suddenly looming up into some uncanny 

 shape, or entering into conversation, and uttering all 

 sorts of improprieties unbefitting a theological professor s 

 family. 



He had a persistence in wicked ways that resisted the 

 most energetic nurture and admonition of his young mis 

 tress. His combativeness was such, that a peaceable walk 

 down the fashionable street of Zion Hill in his company 

 became impossible ; all was race and scurry, cackle and 

 flutter, wherever he appeared, hens and poultry flying, 

 frightened cats mounting trees with magnified tails, dogs 

 yelping and snarling, and children and cows running in 

 every direction. No modest young lady could possibly 

 walk out in company with such a son of confusion. Be 

 side this, Wix had his own private inexplicable personal 

 piques against different visitors in the family, and in the 

 most unexpected moment would give a snap or a nip to 

 the most unoffending person. His friends in the family 

 circle dropped off. His ways were pronounced too bad, 

 his conduct perfectly indefensible ; his young mistress 

 alone clung to him, and declared that her vigorous sys 

 tem of education would at last reform his eccentricities, 



