FROM THE "SPECTATOR." 28* 



DOG FRIENDS, 



{December 14, 1895.] 



As I know your columns are always open to 

 well-authenticated stories of the wonderful 

 gifts of our four-footed friends, I venture to 

 think that you will be interested in the fol- 

 lowing anecdote. Thirty years ago I was 

 living in St. George's Square, Pimlico, and 

 near me in Denbigh Street, at a distance 

 of ten minutes' walk resided a well-known 

 journalist, Mr. Percy Gregg. He had a little 

 black-and-tan dog, for which I found a home 

 when his master was about to leave London. 

 It was reported to me that Jimmie always 

 left my house after breakfast. At first some 

 alarm was felt that he would stray ; but as he 

 invariably returned after an hour's stroll, I 

 took him to be one of those " vagrom " 

 animals who cannot live without a prowl in 

 the streets, and I felt no anxiety. But I 

 ascertained that whenever he went away, he 

 carried off a bone or something edible with 

 him. 1 watched him one or two mornings, 

 and saw him squeeze through the area-railings, 



