A Dog in Exile. 67 



ing and coughing as if half-suffocated, I was sure 

 that if I ever got my flamingo at all it must be 

 hopelessly damaged. At length, he appeared, so 

 exhausted with his exertions that he could hardly 

 stand, and deposited the bird at my feet. Never 

 had I seen such a splendid specimen ! It was an old 

 cock bird, excessively fat, weighing sixteen pounds, 

 yet Major had brought it out through this slough 

 of despond without breaking its skin, or soiling its 

 exquisitely beautiful crimson, rose-coloured, and 

 faintly-blushing white plumage ! Had he not him- 

 self been so plastered with mud and slime I should, 

 in gratitude, have taken him into my arms ; but he 

 appeared very well satisfied with the words of 

 approval I bestowed on him, and we started home- 

 ward in a happy frame of mind, each feeling well 

 pleased with the other and himself. 



That evening as I sat by the fire greatly enjoying 

 my after-dinner coffee, and a pipe of the strongest 

 cavendish, I related the day's adventures, and 

 then for the first time heard from my host some- 

 thing of Major's antecedents and remarkable 

 history. 



He was a Scotch dog by birth, and had formerly 

 belonged to the Earl of Zetland, and as he proved 

 to be an exceptionally clever and good-looking 

 young dog, he was for a time thought much of ; 

 but there was a drop of black blood in Major's 

 heart, and in a moment of temptation it led him 

 into courses for which he was finally condemned to 

 an ignominious death ; he escaped to become a 



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