d I exclaimed, "You have buried my
puppy!" I ran to the spot where the hole had been made, and, having
swept aside the gardener's spadeful of soil, found the deeper part of
the hole, running slanting underground, still open. I knelt down and
thrust in my arm to its fullest stretch, and then, at the very end of
the hole, my fingers encountered a little soft, warm, fluffy ball. The
puppy came out quite happy and uninjured, freshly awakened from sleep,
having shown that his instinct recognised the suitability of holes in
the ground for the accommodation of puppies; just as the hereditary
instinct of his mother had led her to prepare one for him, even in a
South Kensington garden!

FRANCES POWER COBBE.

A DOG AND HIS DINNER.

[_Feb. 16, 1895._]

I knew a dog in Ireland--a large retriever--who had been taught always
to bring his own tin dish in his mouth, to be filled at the late dinner.
For some reason his master wished to make a change, and to feed him
twice a day instead of once, to which he had always been accustomed. The
dog resented this, and when told to bring his dish, refused, and it
could nowhere be found; on which his master spoke angrily to him, and
ordered him to bring the dish at once. With drooping tail and sheepish
expression he went down the length of the garden, and began scratching
up the soil where he had buried the bowl deep down, to avoid having to
bring it at an hour of which he did not approve.

A LOVER OF DOGS.

DOGS AND LOOKING-GLASSES.

[_June 23, 1894._]

You are fond of odd actions of dogs, so perhaps the following may be
acceptable. I have two fox-terriers--young dogs--Grip and Vic. In the
morning, at early tea in our bedroom, Vic gets angry with Grip's
reflection in the long glass of the wardrobe, barks at him furiously as
he moves about, and scratches at the glass, quite regardless of her own
face between her and his reflection. And when he assaults her from
behind, to make her play with his real self, she turns round and snaps
at him viciously, and then returns to her attack on his reflection. He
jumps upon the window-sill, and fancies he sees a squirrel in the
garden, and dashes past her to the door; she follows the motion of the
reflection till she is past the edge of the glass, and loses it, when
she dashes back to the glass again. This has occurred several days in
the last week, and seems to me almost absurd. The dogs are just about a