FROM THE " SPECTATOR. 1 ' 97 



rail on his own account. I got into the train 

 at Uxbridge Road, and, the compartment 

 being vacant, took up the seat which I now 

 prefer the corner seat at the entrance with 

 the back to the engine. Presently a whole 

 crowd of ladies got in, and with them a dog, 

 which I supposed to belong to them. All the 

 ladies except one got out at Addison Road, 

 and then the dog slunk across the carriage 

 to just under my seat. I asked my remaining 

 fellow-passenger whether the dog was hers ; 

 she said "No." No one got in before she her- 

 self got out at South Kensington, where the 

 dog remained perfectly quiet, but at Sloane 

 Square a man was let in, and out rushed 

 the dog, the door actually grazing his sides. 

 Had he not taken up the precise place he 

 did, he must have been shut in or crushed. 

 "That dog is a stowaway," I observed to 

 the porter who had opened the door. " I 

 suppose he is," the man answered. The dog 

 was making the best of his way to the stairs. 

 Clearly the dog meant to get out at that 

 particular station (he had had ample oppor- 

 tunity of getting out both at Addison Road 

 7 



