own.

Jack was evidently very uneasy at being taken on beyond his usual port,
and he was on the point of slipping into a boat for the shore at
Madeira, probably with a view of returning to the Cape by the next
steamer, when I called the captain's attention to him, and he was
promptly shut up again. I said good-bye to him at Plymouth, and hope he
found his way home safely on the return voyage.

EX-COLONIST.

[_June 23, 1894._]

I have read with much interest the stories in the _Spectator_ of the
sagacity of animals. The following, I think, is worth recording:--The
chief-engineer of the Midland and South-Western Junction Railway, Mr. J.
R. Shopland, C.E., has a spaniel that frequently accompanies him or his
sons to their office. On Saturday last this dog went to Marlborough from
Swindon by train with one of Mr. Shopland's clerks, and walked with him
to Savernake Forest. Suddenly the dog was missing. The creature had gone
back to the station at Marlborough and taken a seat in a second-class
compartment. The dog defied the efforts of the railway officials to
dislodge him. When the train reached Swindon he came out of the carriage
and walked quietly to his master's residence.

SAMUEL SNELL.

[_March 30, 1895._]

I was witness the other day of what I had only heard of before--a dog
travelling by rail on his own account. I got into the train at Uxbridge
Road, and, the compartment being vacant, took up the seat which I now
prefer--the corner seat at the entrance with the back to the engine.
Presently a whole crowd of ladies got in, and with them a dog, which I
supposed to belong to them. All the ladies except one got out at Addison
Road, and then the dog slunk across the carriage to just under my seat.
I asked my remaining fellow-passenger whether the dog was hers; she said
"No." No one got in before she herself got out at South Kensington,
where the dog remained perfectly quiet, but at Sloane Square a man was
let in, and out rushed the dog, the door actually grazing his sides. Had
he not taken up the precise place he did, he must have been shut in or
crushed. "That dog is a stowaway," I observed to the porter who had
opened the door. "I suppose he is," the man answered. The dog was making
the best of his way to the stairs. Clearly the dog meant to get out at
that particular station (he had had ample opportunity of getting out
both at Addison Road and South Kensington), and ha