A DOG STORY.
[To THE Roma or THE vSPErIAT0E.1 Sin,—A day or two ago our half-bred Irish terrier, 'Larry,' about a year old, trotted out with a servant, who is a friend of his, when she went to bring in wood from the yard for lighting the fires next morning. He came back with her and saw her put it in the oven to dry. In the morning another maid came and put it in her housemaid's box, and left it in the pantry while she went about some other work. When she came back to fetch it there was none in the box, and she found most of it packed back into the oven—cold, of course, at that time in the morning—and the rest lying below on the hearth. She was inclined to blame the cook for meddling with her wood. But the cook had been watching 'Larry' bring it, stick by stick, from the pantry, and put it back where he had seen his own special friend store it over night.—I am, Sir, Sic.,
Previous page
