OUR DOGS. 131 



fell in love with her beautiful eyes, and she went to reside 



in a most lovely cottage in H , where she received 



the devoted attentions of a whole family. The family 

 physician, however, fell violently in love with her, and, by 

 dint of caring for her in certain little ailments, awakened 

 such a sentiment in return, that at last she was given to 

 him, and used to ride about in state with him in his car- 

 riage, visiting his patients, and giving her opinion on their 

 symptoms. 



At last her health grew delicate and her appetite failed. 

 In vain chicken, and chops, and all the delicacies that could 

 tempt the most fastidious, were offered to her, cooked ex- 

 pressly for her table ; the end of all things fair must come, 

 and poor Florence breathed her last, and was put into a 

 little rosewood casket, lined with white, and studded with 

 silver nails, and so buried under a fine group of chestnuts 

 in the grounds of her former friends. A marble tablet was 

 to be affixed to one of these, commemorating her charms ; 

 but, like other spoiled beauties, her memory soon faded, 

 and the tablet has been forgotten. 



The mistress of Rag, who is devoted to his memory, in- 

 sists that not enough space has been given in this memoir 

 to his virtues. But the virtues of honest Rag were of that 

 kind which can be told in a few sentences, a warm, lov- 

 ing heart, a boundless desire to be loved, and a devotion 

 that made him regard with superstitious veneration all the 



