er in Yorkshire
whilst we went to London. We heard of her continually whilst we were
away, and she seemed very flourishing although growing old, till one day
I got a letter to say that the old dog was suddenly taken very ill and
could hardly move. The servants had taken her to a loose box, given her
a good clean bed of straw, and were feeding her with such delicacies as
she could be prevailed upon to take.

[Sidenote: Rory's Last Welcome]

"I had a sad journey home, thinking of the sufferings of my trusty old
friend. I shall never forget her joy at seeing me once more. The poor
faithful creature could not walk, but crawled along upon her stomach to
meet me when I entered the loose box, filling the place with her cries
of joy. She covered my hands with kisses, and then laid her head upon my
knees whilst I sat down beside her. She whined with a sort of
half-sorrow, half-pleasure--the first that she could not get up and show
me round the gardens as was her wont, the second that she was happy to
be thus resting in the presence of her beloved mistress. Around her lay
a variety of choice foods and tit-bits, but she was in too great pain to
feed except from my hands.

"Poor dear Bean! she looked at me out of her great solemn eyes. Those
dear loving eyes; with only one expression shining in them--a daily,
hourly love--a love in spite of all things--a love invincible.

"During those last few days of her life Rory could not bear to be left
alone. Her eyes followed me tenderly round and round the stables
wherever I went. Although constantly in great pain, I shall never forget
her patience and her pathetic conviction that I could always do her some
good, and she believed in the miracle which I, alas! had no power to
perform. The veterinary surgeon who attended her said she was suffering
from sudden paralysis of the spine, and that she was incurable. This
disease, it appears, is not very rare amongst old dogs who have lived,
not always wisely, but too well."

"Do tell us about some other dogs," cry the children as I cease
speaking. I search my memory, and then turn to the group of little faces
that are waiting expectantly for me to begin, and continue:

"Amongst the various breeds of dogs that I have come across personally,
I know of none more faithful than the little fox-terrier is to his first
devotion. He is a perfect little bantam-cock to fight, and never so
happy as when he is in a row. 'The most unredeemed thing in natur