ered, smiling. "They
came, I suspect, in the noon train, and have taken this method to
announce their arrival."

At this moment the bell was rung again, and more furiously than before.

Minnie sprang up, and ran from the room. She reached the chamber just
as a servant was opening the door. What was their surprise, instead of
the expected guest, to see Tiney standing on his hind feet pulling the
bell rope! He had accidentally been shut into the chamber, and took this
means to get out.

The child ran down with the news, and Tiney, who followed her, was quite
the hero of the occasion.

After dinner, the conversation turned upon the intelligence and
fidelity of dogs, when one of the gentlemen related the following
singular incident, which he said was strictly true:--

"An English officer, who was in Paris somewhere near the year 1815, was
once crossing one of the bridges over the Seine, when a poodle dog
rubbed against his boots, which had just been polished, dirtying them so
much that he was obliged to go to a man stationed on the bridge to
clean them.

"The same circumstance having occurred more than once, his curiosity was
excited, and he watched the dog. He saw him roll himself in the mud of
the river, and then station himself where he could see a person with
well-polished boots, against which he contrived to rub himself.

"Finding that the shoe-black was the owner of the poodle, he taxed him
with the artifice; and after a little hesitation, he confessed that he
had taught the dog the trick, in order to procure customers for himself.

"The officer, being much surprised at the dog's sagacity, purchased him
at a high price, and carried him to England. He kept him tied up in
London some time, and then released him. The poodle remained with him a
day or two, and then made his escape. A fortnight afterwards, he was
found with his former master, pursuing his old trade of dirtying
gentlemen's boots on the bridge."

"Your story, which is a capital one," remarked another gentleman of the
company, "reminds me of something I read lately, which, if not well
vouched for, I should scarcely have credited.

"A man by the name of Edward Cook, after having lived some time with
his brother in Northumberland, came to the United States, bringing with
him a pointer dog, which he lost soon afterwards, while shooting in the
woods near Baltimore.

"Some time after, his brother and sister, who continued to reside in
Northumberland,