OUR DICK. 



CHAPTER I. 



" In durance vile here must I wake and weep, 

 And all my frowsy couch in sorrow steep." 



"His locked, lettered, braw brass collar 

 Showed him the gentleman and scholar." 



JITTLE DICK came to us from 

 the Pound. Now, the Pound is 

 not a nice place, to be sure; but 

 even good men for instance, John Bun- 

 yan, who wro^te "Pilgrim's Progress "- 

 have been put into jail ; so it is not strange 

 that quiet and respectable dogs like ours 

 should be taken up for no fault of their 

 own, and made to suffer for their wicked 



