te, and then left the shop. The dog, whose watchful
eye caught the hint in an instant, instead of following his master out
of the shop, continued to sit at the door, or lie by the fire,
watching the counter, until she observed the attention of the people
of the shop withdrawn from the prize which she wished to secure.
Whenever she saw an opportunity of doing so, as she imagined,
unobserved, she never failed to jump upon the counter with her fore
feet, possess herself of the gloves, or whatever else had been pointed
out to her, and escape from the shop to join her master.

A gentleman lately communicated to me the following fact:--

His avocations frequently took him by the side of St. Bride's
Churchyard, in London. Whenever he passed it, in the course of some
two or three years, he always saw a spaniel at one particular
grave--it was the grave of his master. There, month after month, and
year after year, did this faithful animal remain, as if to guard the
remains of the being he loved. No cold, however severe, no rain,
however violent, no sun, however hot, could drive this affectionate
creature from a spot which was so endeared to him. The good-natured
sexton of the churchyard, (and the fact is recorded to his honour,)
brought food daily to the dog, and then pitying his exposure to the
weather, scooped out a hole by the side of the grave, and thatched it
over.

The following is from the Percy collection of Anecdotes:--

Two spaniels, mother and son, were self-hunting in Mr. Drake's woods,
near Amersham, in Bucks. The gamekeeper shot the mother; the son,
frightened, ran away for an hour or two, and then returned to look
for his mother. Having found her dead body, he laid himself down by
her, and was found in that situation the next day by his master, who
took him home, together with the body of the mother. Six weeks did
this affectionate creature refuse all consolation, and almost all
nutriment. He became, at length, universally convulsed, and died of
grief.

These two anecdotes would form a pretty picture of fidelity and
kindness, and there is one (I need not mention Sir Edwin Landseer) who
would do justice to them.

I may here remark, that the dogs of poor people generally show more
attachment to their masters than those of the rich. Their fidelity
appears greater, and more lasting. Misery would seem to tighten the
cord of affection between them. They both suffer the same privations
together of hunger, cold, an