FROM THE " SPECTA TOR." 2 5 1 



end of the garden. Poor John could hardly 

 dig the grave, and his tears fell fast and 

 silently and upon dear old Sprig as we 

 covered him up for ever. I wish I could 

 write a fitting epitaph for a creature who, 

 through his life, was a constant source of 

 pleasure to all who knew him. 



M. T. 



