A DOG-STORY.
[TO THE EDITOR OP THE "SPECTATOR"] Sts,—Among the Spectator dog-stories I have not seen any akin to the following. My little friend is a mixture of poodle and Maltese, not particularly clever, but intelligent, and fairly educated as regards tricks. She has always been good at home when left by herself or with the servants; but when paying visite, or in lodgings, her devotion to me has been somewhat embarrassing. At the beginning of the yeas I gave up my house and warehoused the furniture, and then settled down in a furnished house in the country. There we stayed five months, but 'Miss Baldi ' never felt it to be home; if I went out alone she gave way to grief, restlessness, and sometimes, I grieve to say, howlings, loud and many. When, having taken an unfurnished house, the furniture appeared, the dog was a different being,—she seemed to know each chair and sofa as they were disgorged from the van ; and when a particular easy-chair appeared she immediately curled herself round on it, and there remained, although it was taken up into the attic (being broken), away from us alL The dog, be it remembered, had not seen her furniture for eight months.—I am, Sir, &c.,
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