A DOG-STORY.
go MB EDITOR OF TUE "SPECTATOR."]
SIR,—Among your numerous dog-stories perhaps the follow- ing may find a place. I have a skye-terrier puppy, only nine months old. On Thursday afternoon my son and a friend took him from here outside an omnibus to Coleridge's village, Nether Stowey, nine miles nearly due west. They then walked to another village, Stoke Conrey, three miles to the north. Leaving him outside the church for a few minutes, he had disappeared when they left it, and the only trace of him that could be found was the report of some men who had seen him running over a hill still further to the north. On Friday night, at 12.30, he relppeared at home. He must have either retraced his steps to ...iether Stowey, and then come home by the road the omnibus went by, two sides of a triangle twelve miles, or else come home by the main road from Stoke Conrey, a most complicated and winding road nine miles, which he had never seen before. Either feat seems rather startling from such a canine baby, and makes his name, Teufel,' rather appropriate.—I am, Sir, &c,
42 Fore Street, Bridgwater, July 29th.
E. T. PAGE.
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