A DOG STORY [To the Editor of the SPECTATOR.]
Sm,—Here is another dog story which has the merit of being absolutely true. My brother in Ceylon had a small black and tan Dachshund given him about seventeen years ago by my husband who had a good number of that breed. This Dachshund had a puppy and it was born in a sort of shed used by my brother for carpentering, plants, &c. The puppy was born dead, and my brother, after attending to the mother, buried the little body in a remote corner of the shed which had a mud floor. Another puppy was born after some months had elapsed, and again this happened in the shed. This time the puppy was alive, and my brother went to get some milk for the mother, being absent only a short time. When he came back the puppy was nowhere to be seen. The mother was all right and not at all worried ! After hunting everywhere for the new arrival he saw, in the corner, where he had buried the first puppy, a heap of newly scratched up earth, and from it poked a tiny black paw feebly waving. The Dachshund had buried her second offspring in the same place where she had seen her master bury her first. It was evidently the proper thing to do I I must add that this second edition lived to grow up into a very clever little dog.
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