st her balance
and fell into the river. What language can describe the agony of those
parents when they saw the current close over their dear child! The
mother, in her terror, could hardly be prevented from throwing herself
into the river to rescue her drowning girl, and her husband had to hold
her back by force. Vain was the help of man at that dreadful moment; but
prayer was offered up to God, and he heard it.

No one took any notice of Nero, the faithful dog. But he had kept his
eye upon the boat, it seems. He saw all that was going on; he plunged
into the river at the critical moment when the child had sunk to the
bottom, and dived beneath the surface. Suddenly a strange noise was
heard on the side of the boat opposite to the one toward which the party
were anxiously looking, and something seemed to be splashing in the
water. It was the dog. Nero had dived to the bottom of that deep river,
and found the very spot where the poor child had settled down into her
cold, strange cradle of weeds and slime. Seizing her clothes, and
holding them fast in his teeth, he brought her up to the surface of the
water, a very little distance from the boat, and with looks that told
his joy, he gave the little girl into the hands of her astonished
father. Then, swimming back to the shore, he shook the water from his
long, shaggy coat, and laid himself down, panting, to recover from the
fatigue of his adventure.

[Illustration: NERO SAVING LITTLE ELLEN.]

Ellen seemed for awhile to be dead; her face was deadly pale; it hung
on her shoulder; her dress showed that she had sunk to the bottom. But
by and by she recovered gradually, and in less than a week she was as
well as ever.

But the Glasgow Chronicle tells a story of the most supremely humane dog
I ever heard of--so humane, in fact, that his humanity was somewhat
troublesome. This dog--a fine Newfoundland--resided near Edinburgh.
Every day he was seen visiting all the ponds and brooks in the
neighborhood of his master's residence. He had been instrumental more
than once in saving persons from drowning. He was respected for his
magnanimity, and caressed for his amiable qualities, till, strange as it
may be considered, this flattery completely turned his head. Saving life
became a passion. He took to it as men take to dram-drinking. Not having
sufficient scope for the exercise of his diseased benevolence in the
district, he took to a very questionable method of supplying the
defici