OUR PETS. 79 



search of the head of the house, for whom he always 

 showed the utmost fondness and affection. 



Poor Toby ! his fate was melancholy and tragic. 

 My faithful old dog was as partial to the kitchen fire- 

 side as Toby was. He had reached the venerable — for 

 a dog very venerable — age of twenty. Very deaf, very 

 blind, very rheumatic, and nearly toothless, he was 

 nevertheless honoured and cherished, as he deserved to 

 be, and no one interfered with his favourite nook by the 

 ingle. He had not only himself been honest and trusty 

 during all his long life, but always exacted the strictest 

 integrity of conduct from all over whom he had any 

 influence or control, and would permit no peculation 

 if he could prevent it. One day — fatal day for poor 

 Toby ! — no one but the old dog was in the kitchen. 

 There happened to be some oatmeal cakes toasting 

 before the fire. The door was open, and Toby hobbled 

 in. He was never, it must be confessed, troubled with 

 any scruples of conscience. I don't think Nature had 

 endowed him with a conscience at all, and so he is 

 not to be blamed. He was hungry ; the cakes looked 

 inviting ; and they were temptingly within reach. 

 Given these conditions and circumstances, and only 

 one thing was sure to happen. Toby proceeded to 

 help himself. The wrath and indignation of the old 

 dog were roused. A brief scuffle ensued. Some one 

 ran to see what all the terrible din was about ; and 

 found poor Toby in the death-agony, with outspread 

 wings and neck broken, the tell-tale cakes scattered 

 upon the floor, and his slayer standing over him, and 



