236 DOG STORIES 



I suppose, for he had an amused expression 

 of face, and was wagging his tail amicably. 

 Sprig, however, though but a mite in com- 

 parison, decidedly resented the intrusion, and 

 flew at the retriever's throat, from which he 

 had to be choked off by his owner, who 

 brought him back in his arms. The 

 little fellow was in the highest state of 

 excitement and anger, his bright, intelligent 

 eyes flashing, and his hair bristling. He 

 was indeed most amusingly fierce, but was 

 soon calmed when he was shown, and told, 

 that his enemy had fled, whereupon the 

 following colloquy ensued between myself 

 and his owner. Myself: "And where did 

 you get that dog, boy ? You did not steal 

 him, I hope ? " Boy, in a rich Dublin 

 brogue : " Ah, now ! would I stale anythin', 

 yer honner, an' me the poor milk-boy ? Is 

 it stale him ? Bedad, it's my father's cuzin 

 that's at the Curragh ! Sure he's a corporal, 

 so he is. He brought him, and he sez, 

 ' Yez'll get me a pound for him, and no less.' 

 So it's a pound I want for him, sur, and 

 nothin' less. An' sure John Lambert knows 



