the altar rails and had just commenced the reading of the first commandment, then the dog uprose, placed his fore paws on the rails, and gave utterance to a fearful bay. The stranger, being of timid temperament, fled to the vestryroom, and the hound was ignominiously expelled, and for some time was kept chained up on Sundays during service. After a while this restraint was discontinued; but the hound did not attempt to re-enter the church, from which he felt himself excommunicated. It then soon began to be observed that he disappeared every Sunday, though no one knew or cared to inquire where, till one day Mrs. H., a married daughter of Mr. L., was stopped in the street at Brixham by an angry looking woman, who poured a flood of abuse on her, the drift of which she could not at first understand, until the woman openly accused her of sending her dog to disturb the devotions of those who attended Meeting. Mrs. H., aghast, asked what she meant, and heard to her surprise that for some Sundays the ex-church dog had gone to chapel, and though most respectful and devotional in his demeanour, his presence was a trial to the nerves of the congregation to whose body he had tried to join himself. Mrs. H., being a High Church woman, could only express her regret that her dog should have so far lapsed as to let himself down to attend Meeting. He was once more placed under strict restraint on Sundays, and thus debarred from attending any religious denominations whatsoever."

A Mrs. D. also relates a story of a lap-dog belonging to her family:

"There had been a handsome polished steel fender put into

the dining-room in the place of one in which the dog had been free to lie. This habit was now discouraged, and the dog always turned out of his favourite corner, much to his chagrin, till he espied a period when he might enjoy himself without molestation-namely, during family prayers-then he immediately ensconced himself in his warm retreat; but well knowing that his peace would be disturbed immediately devotional exercises were over, he anticipated the moment by. always leaving the fender the instant the final blessing began to be pronounced."

Dogs are known to form at times singular companionships. For example, Craven, in his Recreations in Shooting,' gives some anecdotes of a Newfoundland dog he possessed, in saving life and protecting property, and adds this charming one:—

"The same dog permitted a robin, through a whole winter, to take shelter in his den. It was a most singular spectacle to witness; for so much familiarity, and, as it seemed, affection, grew up between them, that, while robin hopped and chirped about between his shaggy paws, or upon his head and body, our Newfoundland would stand or lie perfectly still, his small, brown eyes winking and blinking, and his well-clothed tail gently wagging to and fro with satisfaction."

An officer of the Bombay Army kindly obliged me with the following facts:

:

"Captain Hopkins, Adjutant of the 16th Bombay Native Infantry, had two dogs. One was called Prince and the other Bella. He had also a large white Persian cat, one of the largest I have ever seen. Prince and this cat were very great friends and used to sleep together. I have seen this

cat, when Prince was asleep, run from the window, where it had been sitting, wake up the dog and direct his attention to any strange dog (the place swarmed with pariahs), that came near the place, when Prince would give chase to the intruder and puss would look on approvingly. This was a common incident, and afforded us much amusement. Prince was also remarkable for his paternal affection, which is very unusual with dogs. On one occasion his small family were left with their mother, while he accompanied his master, who was dangerously ill, to the sea-coast, at Maindavie, in Cutch. On the second day's march Prince was missing, and his master, who was much attached to him, wrote to a friend in camp, Captain Corsellis, to ascertain if he had by any chance found his way back. In a few days he received an answer, informing him that Prince had been found in the basket which contained his three puppies-a position which he always assumed in the temporary absences of the mother. The truth of these anecdotes I can vouch for."

Southey mentions also:-"Talford knew a cat and dog, who, when the family removed house, travelled back in company to the old habitation, thirty miles distant,-the cat under convoy."

The power of the dog to find his way home by unknown. roads is verified by a multitude of instances, to which the subsequent ones will add additional evidence. The first is from an original source:—

A Scotch shepherd dog was given to a butcher in the town of Ludlow, by Mr. W. G., a gentleman farmer. The butcher in the course of a fortnight sold him to a person of the same

trade, living at Market Harborough. He was taken to his new abode by railway, and travelled all night. When getting him out of the train he contrived to slip away, although there was a collar round his neck, to which was attached a chain two feet long. Two days and three nights after he had been taken off, the inmates of his old home were aroused from their beds by a terrible barking and great distress of a dog at the door. The servant went down stairs and there discovered, to her surprise, the faithful old animal returned. It is supposed that, during the period of his absence, he had taken no food, as he was reduced to a skeleton, and so ill afterwards that it was feared he would have died. However, with difficulty he was tempted to eat a little, but was a long time in recovering, though now quite strong and lively. Previous to his going this journey he was never more than a few miles from home, yet the distance by railway must be about one hundred and twenty miles, and in a direct line on the map at least seventyfive miles.

The dog is still alive, and his master, with proper feeling, says he shall live out his days with him, for that now he would not part with him on any account. Whether the dog found his way back by the route he travelled in going, or by direct roads, does not appear.

"CANINE SAGACITY.-Perhaps there is not on record a more astonishing fact of the instinct and sagacity of a dog than one which occurred at Tolethorpe Hall, a short time since. Lieutenant Henry Harrisson, of the 24th Regiment, now at Aldershot, who had been staying at Tolethorpe a few weeks, took back with him a black and tan terrier. Soon

after his arrival at Aldershot the dog showed symptoms of dissatisfaction at his new quarters, and refused to remain there. As soon as it was missed rewards were offered for its restoration; but no tidings could be heard of the animal, which was considered by its master as lost. The young officer wrote to his mother, Mrs. Harrisson, lamenting the departure of the dog, but she immediately returned an answer to the effect that the sagacious animal had just arrived at Tolethorpe, apparently in good health, though exceedingly thin from the fatigue of so long a journey. The instinct by which it was guided in finding its way back one hundred and eighty miles (having travelled all. the way to Aldershot in a railway train), is most surprising. Thirty guineas have been offered by the officers at Aldershot for the dog since the performance of this extraordinary feat." Stamford Mercury.

"Lord Fitzhardinge's foxhounds have been cub-hunting in the Forest of Dean, and only returned to the kennels at Berkeley last Wednesday. They have had excellent sport, as, with the exception of the first day, which was very boisterous, they have killed every day a cub, and ran one to ground. An instance of the instinct of the canine species is remarkable. A young hound, Prodigal by name, was lost in the forest last Saturday, and on Monday, at an early hour, he was seen by Harry Ayres's (the huntsman) son, wending his way through the town of Berkeley; but he paid little heed to Ayres, and jogged on to the kennel, terribly foot-sore, and lame in one foot. Prodigal, in addition to crossing the Severn, which he probably swam, for, had he