scended, and getting behind
the picture, went up the steps and opened the door. Sprig did not notice
me, but pushing past me hurried down the steps, and then, as I emerged
into the room, looked up to me blandly, and actually sat down in the
place in which I had put him the day before. I said to him gravely,
though infinitely amused, "No, Sprig, I don't want you to-day; look, the
colour is all wet, go away to your mistress." He looked very blank and
greatly disappointed, and stood up with his tail drooped. Suddenly a
bright thought seemed to strike him, as if he had said, "Now I have it!"
Whisky had got hold of one of my slippers, and was playing with it in
my bedroom, and Sprig, rushing up the steps, seized her by the "scruff"
of her neck, dragged her howling down the steps, and put her, I can use
no other words, into the place where she had been the day before. He
then came to me frisking about, and could he but have spoken, would have
said, "If you don't want me, you must her, and there she is!" He was
quite triumphant about it; and dirty as I was, and palette in hand, I
took him forthwith to the drawing-room and told them what had happened.

I could tell numberless other stories of the reasoning power and
intelligence of our little pet, but I should trespass at too great
length on your patience. I could describe a curious friendship which
sprang up between him and a German friend who was staying some time with
us; how he learned many new tricks from him, and was taught to hop on
his hind legs from one end of the drawing-room to the other, with our
friend hopping backwards before him; I could describe his evening romps
with my dear father, never omitted while my father lived; and the many
curious traits by which his great love for us was perpetually
displayed--how he learned to crack nuts of all kinds, and to pick out
the kernels like a squirrel--how he never went into the servants' hall
or the kitchen, and refused to associate with the servants, though
friendly with them, and especially with John Lambert, his fast friend.
But I must bring this sketch to a close.

We had been absent about a year in Germany and the South of France.
After we left, Sprig was inconsolable, and would not eat; but the cook
made him little curries and rice, and after a time he became more
resigned. We only heard that he was well, and hoped we should find him
so. The day we arrived I thought he would have died for joy. He gasped
for breath,