l
of this anecdote when all met at breakfast the next morning.

Among our dogs were "Turk" and "Linda," the former a beautiful mastiff
and the latter a soft-eyed, gentle, good-tempered St. Bernard. "Mrs.
Bouncer," a Pomeranian, came next, a tiny ball of white fluffy fur, who
came as a special gift to me, and speedily won her way by her grace and
daintiness into the affections of every member of the household. My
father became her special slave, and had a peculiar voice for her--as he
had for us, when we were children--to which she would respond at once by
running to him from any part of the house when she heard his call. He
delighted to see her with the large dogs, with whom she gave herself
great airs, "because," as he said, "she looks so preposterously small."
A few years later came "Don," a Newfoundland, and then "Bumble," his son,
named after "Oliver Twist's" beadle, because of "a peculiarly pompous and
overbearing manner he had of appearing to mount guard over the yard when
he was an absolute infant." Lastly came "Sultan," an Irish bloodhound,
who had a bitter experience with his life at "Gad's Hill." One evening,
having broken his chain, he fell upon a little girl who was passing and
bit her so severely that my father considered it necessary to have him
shot, although this decision cost him a great deal of sorrow.

For a short time I had the care of a mongrel called "Gipsy." She was not
allowed to enter any of the family rooms, and used to spend her time
lying contentedly on the rug outside the drawing-room. One afternoon a
friend came from Chatham bringing with him a wonderful poodle who had
been specially invited to perform all his tricks for my father's
enjoyment. On his arrival, "Mrs. Bouncer" became furious, and when he
began his tricks she went deliberately into the hall and escorted "Gipsy"
into the drawing-room, as much as to say: "I can't stand this. If
strange dogs are to be made much of, surely the dogs in the house may be
at least permitted to enter the room." She would not look at "Fosco,"
the poodle, but sat throughout his performance with her back toward him,
the picture of offended dignity. Just as soon, however, as he was fairly
out of the house, and not until then, she escorted "Gipsy" back to her
rug. My father was intensely amused by this behaviour of "Bouncer's" and
delighted in telling this story about her.

"Mrs. Bouncer" was honored by many messages from her master during his