een kept up a full
hour after her usual time to welcome the stranger, and was so charmed
with this her first living toy, that it was difficult to get her to
bed. She divided her own supper with poor Chloe, hungry after her long
journey; rolled with her upon the Turkey carpet, and at last fell asleep
with her arms clasped round her new pet's neck, and her bright face,
coloured like lilies and roses, flung across her body; Chloe enduring
these caresses with a careful, quiet gentleness, which immediately won
for her the hearts of the lovely mother, of the fond father, (for to an
accomplished and right-minded man, in delicate health, what a treasure
is a little prattling girl, his only one!) of two grandmothers, of three
or four young aunts, and of the whole tribe of nursery attendants. Never
was debut so successful, as Chloe's first appearance in Camden Place.

As her new dog had been Pretty May's last thought at night, so was it
her first on awakening. He shared her breakfast as he had shared her
supper; and immediately after breakfast, mother and daughter, attended
by nurserymaid and footman, sallied forth to provide proper luxuries
for Chloe's accommodation. First they purchased a sheepskin rug; then a
splendid porcelain trough for water, and a porcelain dish to match, for
food; then a spaniel basket, duly lined, and stuffed, and curtained--a
splendid piece of canine upholstery; then a necklace-like collar with
silver bells, which was left to have the address engraved upon the
clasp; and then May, finding herself in the vicinity of a hosier and
a shoemaker, bethought herself of a want which undoubtedly had not
occurred to any other of her party, and holding up her own pretty little
foot, demanded "tilk tocks and boo thoose for Tloe."

For two days did Chloe endure the petting and the luxuries. On the third
she disappeared. Great was the consternation in Camden Place. Pretty
May cried as she had never been known to cry before; and papa, mamma,
grandmammas, aunts, nursery and house-maids, fretted and wondered,
wondered and fretted, and vented their distress in every variety of
exclamation, from the refined language of the drawing-room to the
patois of a Somersetshire kitchen. Rewards were offered, and handbills
dispersed over the town. She was cried, and she was advertised; and at
last, giving up every hope of her recovery, Mrs. Keating wrote to me.

It happened that we received the letter on one of those soft November