A DOG-STORY.
[To THE EDITOR OF THE "SPECTATOR.".1 SIR,—Walking in the garden on Saturday, March 28th, I encountered my butcher coming up from the gate with a joint in his basket and a very handsome black- and-white, smooth-haired sheep-dog at his heels. On my observing that he had a new dog, the man told me the following story, which may be of interest to some of your readers. On Wednesday, March 18th, on returning from the market town of Newton Abbot, the butcher found the dog—a stranger to him—lying in his stable, apparently on friendly terms with his old grey horse. Cracking his whip, he drove the animal out of the yard, and closed the gate. A little later, while sitting at tea with his wife in the room behind the shop, they heard a loud crash, and thinking a side of beef had fallen down, he ran out, to find the sheep-dog again, who had leaped in from the road over the slab into the shop, and was lying there quietly, not attempting to touch the meat. Again he was driven away, and trotted off down the road, where he met and vanquished a noted local champion, ' Boxer,' who was lying in wait for him. At 10 o'clock that night, on going out to lock up, the butcher found the dog back again, lying at his gate. Touched by the animal's pluck and pertinacity—" The creetur' weant take Naw ' fur an answer, Miss, and he'm to gude a man fur Boxer' "—the butcher let him in, and allowed him to sleep in the stable. The following day the dog was recognised by an acquaintance as belonging to a farmer named Elliot, who holds three farms: one seven miles up the coast, another three miles down the coast, and a third thirty miles inland, the other side of Exeter. The butcher, therefore, kept the dog for a week, and next market day—Wednesday, March 25th— he took him to Newton Abbot and returned him to Farmer Elliot, who took him away the same afternoon to his distant farm near Exeter. About 9 o'clock next morning the butcher received a telegram from Elliot—" Dog left here at 4'.15," and about a quarter of an hour later the dog ran into the shop, rather dusty, but not at all distressed, having run the thirty miles in three hours. His self-chosen master finds him very clever and useful in the business, and is negotiating the purchase of him from Farmer Elliot. So devotedly has the dog attached himself to the butcher that when, whilst driving a bargain with a drover anent young pigs, the drover clapped the butcher on the shoulder while delivering his ultimatum as to price, the dog flew at him furiously to avenge a supposed assault on his master.—I am, Sir, &c., Rarenhurst, Chelston, Torquay. M. C. WELBY.
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