238 DOG STORIES 



creep gently up to her, put his paws round 

 her neck, and lick her hands softly, while the 

 pleading of his large eyes looking from his 

 mistress, in her unconscious delirium, to her 

 sister and me, was touching in the extreme. 

 Indeed, there were then many sad illnesses, 

 but Sprig was always the same. As my 

 child grew stronger and better her little 

 friend would amuse her by the hour together; 

 sit up, beg, preach, play with his ball, and 

 try in humble doggie fashion to beguile her 

 of her pain. But I am anticipating. 



Sprig was, I believe, what is called a 

 Dandie Dinmont, and as he grew up he 

 became, for his class, a very handsome, as he 

 was a sturdy, little fellow, with great strength 

 for his size. He was a reddish-brown colour, 

 more dark-red than brown, like a squirrel, 

 with white below, and a delightfully fuzzy 

 head, and a breast of long soft white hair. 

 His eyes were that peculiar bright liquid 

 "dog" brown which is capable of so much 

 expression, and he grew to have a long 

 moustache and beard. Even the most un- 

 observant of dogs admired him, for he 



