was an old trick of the dog's to get a bun,
and that if she would give him one he would return the property. She
cheerfully did so, and the dog as willingly made the exchange."

The above anecdote proves that dogs are no mean observers of
countenances, and that he had satisfied himself by a previous scrutiny
as to the probability of his delinquencies being forgiven.

Of the abstinence and escape of a dog, the following narrative may not
be uninteresting:--

In 1789, when preparations were making at St. Paul's for the reception
of his majesty, a favourite dog followed its master up the dark stairs
of the dome. Here, all at once, it was missing; and calling and
whistling were to no purpose. Nine weeks after this, all but two days,
some glaziers were at work in the cathedral, and heard a faint noise
amongst the timbers which support the dome. Thinking it might be some
unfortunate human being, they tied a rope round a boy, and let him
down near the place whence the sound came. At the bottom he found a
dog lying on its side, the skeleton of another dog, and an old shoe
half eaten. The humanity of the boy led him to rescue the animal from
its miserable situation, and it was accordingly drawn up. Much
emaciated, and scarce able to stand, the workmen placed it in the
porch of the church, to die or live as it might happen. This was about
ten o'clock in the morning. Some time after, the dog was seen
endeavouring to cross the street at the top of Ludgate Hill; but its
weakness was so great, that, unsupported by a wall, it could not
accomplish it. The miserable appearance of the dog again excited the
compassion of a boy, who carried it over. By the aid of the houses it
was enabled to get to Fleet Market, and over two or three narrow
crossings in its way to Holborn Bridge, and about eight o'clock in the
evening it reached its master's house in Red Lion Street, Holborn, and
laid itself down on the steps, having been ten hours in its journey
from St. Paul's to that place. The dog was so much altered, its eyes
being so sunk in its head as to be scarce discernible, that the master
would not encourage his faithful old companion, who when lost was
supposed to weigh twenty pounds, but now only weighed three pounds
fourteen ounces. The first indication it gave of knowing its master
was by wagging its tail when he mentioned its name, Phillis; for a
long time it was unable to eat or drink, and it was kept alive by the
sustenance it receiv