120 



OUR DOGS. 



Florence was a perfect little fine lady, and a perfect 

 Italian, sensitive, intelligent, nervous, passionate, and con- 

 stant in her attachments, but with a hundred little whims 

 and fancies that required petting and tending hourly. She 

 was perfectly miserable if she was not allowed to attend us 

 in our daily drives, yet in the carriage she was so excit- 

 able and restless, so interested to take part in everything 

 she saw and heard in the street, that it was all we could 

 do to hold her in and make her behave herself decently. 

 She was nothing but a little bundle of nerves, apparently 



