DOGS. 115 



many other dogs have evinced. The remarkable part 

 of his history is, that he went into the garden at the 

 back of his house and scratched two large holes, and 

 when his mistress did die, he returned to the garden 

 and laid himself down in one of them. 



Another dog, but of what species I do not know, 

 was left at Hastings with servants, while his mistress 

 paid a visit to Brighton. One evening he went into her 

 room, jumped upon her bed, moaned and rolled himself 

 m the bed-clothes, till those around him thought him 

 mad. The next morning the post brought a letter to 

 say that his mistress had died at the time he was 

 showing those signs of distress. 



But it is not in a mournful light alone that we must 

 view the Scotch, or indeed any other terrier ; for they 

 are the most untiring playful beings under the sun. I 

 picked up a poor little expiring puppy by the edge of a 

 pond one day, recovered him, brought him up, and there 

 never was a more faithful or amusing beast. He proved 

 to be a shaggy Scotch terrier ; and his heedless youth 

 had to undergo many corrections before he became the 

 perfect model of obedience which his maturity presented. 

 One of his misdemeanours was to kill the young 

 chickens. The woman who managed the poultry could 

 not imagine why these little creatures died so fast, and 

 at first suspected that they picked up and swallowed 

 something which poisoned them. She, however, opened 

 one, and did not find anything in it which confirmed her 

 suspicions ; but the feathers were ruffled on the back of 

 the neck, and she was then convinced that they were 

 destroyed by a much larger animal than themselves. 

 She watched for some days, and at length saw Mr. Bruin, 

 my dog, creep through a little hole in the palings of the 



