FROM THE "SPECTATOR." 295 



mere member of the mob patted his head, 

 he wagged his tail and walked on his wise 

 way. Bob had a capital memory, and 

 woe betide the person who treated him dis- 

 courteously he would cut him dead the 

 next time. On one occasion an official 

 employed on one of the stations of the 

 Northern line, being a little lax in the liver, 

 had the presumption to kick Bob out of 

 his way as he lay sunning himself on the 

 platform waiting for a train. Bob never 

 got out at that station again. He cut the 

 station and its official dead ; and, if he had a 

 legacy to leave, it would not be that man's 

 name that would be mentioned in Bob's 

 will. I remember once in the course of a 

 several-hundred-mile bicycle trip I struck a 

 wayside station, and was entertained by 

 Bob with all the cordiality with which a 

 gentlemanly dog of confirmed character 

 greets one whom he knows to be a firm 

 friend of his race. He took a great interest 

 in my faithful ' Tyler ' bicycle, and, sitting 

 down at my side, sedately watched every 

 detail of the cleaning up, oiling, and other 



