his tail, and the performance began. The dogs appeared to be
delighted and manifested their enthusiasm by _ouahs!_ _ouahs!_ closely
resembling the _bravi_ of dilettanti at the Opera. With the sole
exception of an old and pretty muddy poodle, very wretched looking, and
a critic, no doubt, who barked out something about forgetting sound
tradition, all the spectators proclaimed Zamore the Vestris of dogs and
the god of dancing. Our artist had performed a minuet, a jig, and a
_deux temps_ waltz. A large number of two-footed spectators had joined
the four-footed ones, and Zamore enjoyed the honour of being applauded
by human hands.

Dancing became so much a habit of his that when he was paying court to
some fair, he would stand up on his hind legs, making bows and turning
his toes out like a marquis of the _ancien regime_. All he lacked was
the plumed hat under his arm.

Apart from this he was as hypochondriacal as a comic actor and took no
part in the life of the household. He stirred only when he saw his
master pick up his hat and stick. Zamore died of brain fever, brought
on, no doubt, by overwork in trying to learn the schottische, then in
the full swing of its popularity. Zamore may say within his tomb, as
says the Greek dancer in her epitaph: "Earth, rest lightly on me, for I
rested lightly on thee."

How came it that being so talented, Zamore was not enrolled in Corvi's
company? For I was even then sufficiently influential as a critic to
manage this for him. Zamore, however, would not leave his master, and
sacrificed his self-love to his affection, a proof of devotion which one
would look for in vain among men.

A singer, named Kobold, a thorough-bred King Charles from the famous
kennels of Lord Lauder, took the place of the dancer. It was a queer
little beast, with an enormous projecting forehead, big goggle eyes,
nose broken short off at the root, and long ears trailing on the ground.
When Kobold was brought to France, knowing no language but English, he
was quite bewildered. He could not understand the orders given him;
trained to answer to "Go on," or "Come here," he remained motionless
when he was told in French, "Viens," or "Va-t'en." It took him a year to
learn the tongue of the new country in which he found himself and to
take part in the conversation. Kobold was very fond of music, and
himself sang little songs with a very strong English accent. The A would
be struck on the piano, and he caught the note