a very original
"tyke" of a doggie--a biography which had so lived in my recollection
that when a queer little fluffy dumpling of a puppy was given me I could
not help giving it the old familiar name, little knowing how aptly true
the name would prove to be in after years.

Is there anything more comical than a young Scotch terrier puppy, with
its preternatural gravity, its queer, ungainly attempts at play, its
tumbles, and blue-eyed simplicity, and, best of all, its sage look, with
head on one side, trying to consider the merits of some doggie idea
which is puzzling his infant brain? Rab went through all the stages of
puppyhood, showing the usual amount of mischief and fun; he might be met
carrying about some unfortunate slipper frayed to pieces by his busy
teeth, or burying a favourite bone under a wool mat in the drawing-room,
or, worse still, it is recorded in domestic chronicles that he buried a
hymn-book in the garden, whereupon the cook remarked that she believed
he had more religion in him than half the Christians; but that reasoning
was not apparent to any one but herself.

Rab's most notable adventures took place after he had emerged from
puppyhood. He had a most indomitable spirit of disobedience; he would
hunt rabbits or anything else he could find in the woods, and one day he
reached home with a snare tightly drawn round his neck, and panting
distressingly for breath; the wire was cut only just in time to save
his life.

Another time he was poisoned by something he had eaten, and had a long
suffering illness.

His fights with other dogs were fierce and frequent, and whilst engaged
in a scrimmage with a hated rival, Rab was run over by a passing cart,
and limped home in a very dejected state; no bones were broken, but he
was an invalid for some months in consequence.

At last it was thought needful to tie him up, and he had his appointed
house and a long chain, and with frequent exercise he became quite
content. One morning our brave little friend was found nearly dead, with
two terrible wounds in his neck, which must have been made by a sharp
knife, driven twice through his throat, but, strangely enough, had each
time just missed severing the wind-pipe. He had nearly died from loss of
blood, and was scarcely able to breathe; still, our kind servants did
not give him up; warm milk and beef tea were given him constantly
through the day; and by night he had revived a little, and was evidently
going to li