264 . Animal Humor. [May, 
ing and inconvenient. If permitted to accompany me on a vil- 
lage stroll, he would walk behind with the deportment of a 
footman of the olden time ; but let a dog come along and look 
askance at his master, especially let his tail come in contact with 
him, however accidental it might be; it made no matter about 
the size of the offender ; if Dick was small he was spry and wiry, 
and generally the chastisement he administered was short, sharp, 
and decisive. If it were a large dog, Dick would attack him 
scientifically. He was agile as a deer. If the subject for correc- 
tion was one of the heavy weights, Dick would spring into the 
air, and, descending upon him, inflict a bite in some unexpected 
place, his complicated tactics and rapid evolutions begetting in 
the mind of the burlier beast a perplexity like that of the Iron 
Duke when he beheld the strategy of the little Corsican: “ Hang 
the fellow! he fights contrary to rule!” Dick’s solicitous atten- 
tion to his master’s personal welfare, though in spirit admirable, 
through his way of doing it had become to a degree oppressive, 
as the minister’s good name was now associated with some 
notable canine contests. What would you think of the town 
Chronicle’s going out of its way to wind up a dissertation on 
Village Dog-Fights thus: “ As regards this well-fought contest 
between the expressman’s big dog, Whitey, and the little Dom- 
inie in black, all must admire the dogged valor which gave 
victory to the latter, and sent the former from the field witha 
sad curtailment of his high prestige; and we cannot but compli- 
ment the professional gentleman on his being possessed of so 
large an amount of fighting capital, as the outcome of so small 
an investment in dog-flesh. The next time the little Dominie in 
black goes in, in the language of Lord Macaulay’s old Roman, 
‘ may we be there to see.’”’ Of course such ethical whisperings 
from so immaculate a source as the public press must be heeded. 
Having occasion to go to the railroad depot, we took the precau- 
tion to shut Dick up. But love laughs at locksmiths. Dick was 
at the depot as soon as his master, and occupying his usual place 
behind him. On came the train. A village mongrel, notorious 
for its habit of following horses and barking at them, came yelp- 
ing defiantly at the iron horse. We stood waiting for the tram 
to stop; this done, the bully dog retraced his steps to the plat- 
form, his tail wagging, expressive of approbation of his treat- 
ment of the great fire-fiend. It was evident that Dick, who had 
kept close to my side, viewed the whole performance with honest 
but intense disgust. Generally, dogs take to us instinctively; 
