eman known as the "Human Dog,"
who frequented the main thoroughfares during the crowded hours and
simulated the performances of a starving animal with a verisimilitude
that I believe to have been unsurpassed in the annals of beggary.
He would go on all fours snuffling along the gutters for food and
when he came to a morsel of offal he would fall upon it and devour
it ravenously. If he found nothing he would whine and sit on his
hind legs--so to speak--on the curb, with an imploring look on his
hairy face. If a police officer approached the "Human Dog" would
immediately roll over on his back, with his legs in the air, and
yelp piteously; in fact, he combined the "lay" of insanity with
that of starvation in a most ingenious and skilful manner. He was
a familiar sight and a bugbear to the police, who were constantly
arresting him; but, as he never asked for money, they had great
difficulty in doing anything with him. Usually the magistrate sent
him to the "Island," for thirty days and then Gottlieb would get
him out on a writ of habeas corpus. Some of these writs attracted
the attention of the bar and several appear in the reports. I am
under the impression that we secured his release some twenty-nine
separate times. At last he died in a fit of apoplexy caused by
overeating; and when we administered his estate we found that he
had already laid by, in a comparatively brief career, the very
creditable sum of forty-one thousand dollars.

The "Human Dog" was but a clever variation of the "Crust-Thrower"
--the beggar who tosses a dirty crust of bread into the gutter when
no one is looking and then falls upon it with a cry of fierce joy.
These "crust-throwers" have plied their trade for over six hundred
years and were known in England and Flanders long before the
discovery of America. Gottlieb was very shrewd at devising schemes
that came just within the law and used to amuse himself by so doing
in his leisure moments. One of the best--the idea which he sold
for three hundred dollars and which is still being used in New
York, Chicago, and elsewhere--is the following:

An old man, with a square of plate glass in a newspaper and a bundle
of glass-cutter's tools by his side is seen sitting dejectedly on
a curb with his head in his hands. He has no coat and the icy wind
blows through his straggling locks of gray hair--a pathetic picture.
He seems utterly discouraged, but no word of complaint passes his
lips. Presently