loS IN A CHESHIRE GARDEN 



old, but he took a very intelligent interest in 

 things. His house was an asylum for stray 

 cats and you would find him on a winter's 

 evening sitting in front of a good fire with a 

 circle of half a dozen cats round him, all 

 staring like himself at the grate. He used 

 to have a fancy for clocks; there must have 

 been five or six of all sizes perpetually tick- 

 ing away in his kitchen, not to speak of others 

 that were there but refused to tick any longer. 

 He was not content, like other cottagers, with 

 a candle or cheap light, but had hanging from 

 the low ceiling a large paraffin lamp, which 

 had cost him at least fifteen shillings. 



He was never married, and since his 

 mother died, some thirty years ago, he never 

 had a woman in the house, and yet few 

 women could have kept it cleaner than he did 

 himself. 



A white terrier that we had for ten years 

 from 1888 used to associate words with ideas 

 even when spoken in ordinary conversation 

 and not directly to him. For instance, if he 

 was lying apparently asleep before the fire, 

 and we happened in talking without reference 

 to him to mention any words that he knew, 

 such as " dog," or " carriage," or " walk," 

 he would look up or perhaps just wag his 

 tail. 



The same dog had a wonderful gift of 

 reckoning time. He knew Sunday perfectly 

 well, and he knew it the first thing iri the 



