[To THE EDITOR OF THE "SPECTATOR."]
venture to enclose the following story of a faithful dog which a friend who was shooting game in Zululand has just written to me. My friend writes :—
"I took with me a spaniel he was a splendid little chap, and did any amount of work for me till we left him behind with our waggons and horses while we went for a fortnight down into the fly country, which is fatal to dogs, horses, and cattle. He stayed a week with the other dogs, and then one morning took into his head that something was wrong, and started to look for us along the way the waggons had come. Unfortunately we had gone off the road one day's journey with the waggons before deciding where to camp, and following us to this first camp he there lost himself. Ten days later on our way home by train I looked out of the window by chance and saw him outside a plate- layer's hut. The poor little fellow had found his way back more than one hundsed and twenty miles, crossing four large rivers, and if I had not seen him, would possibly have come along the
line till he got home, another hundred miles He was nearly dead with exhaustion and poverty when we found him, but soon recovered when once at home again."
Earlswood Park Road, Wol verha mpton.