repeated often, in the shadowy solitude; and
broken murmurs of the strain still trembled on the keys when the sweet
voice was hushed in tears.

One day Florence was amazed at receiving a visit from Mr. Toots, who
entered the room with much hesitation, and, with a series of chuckles,
laughs, and blushes, informed her that he had brought her little Paul's
pet, the dog Diogenes, as a companion in her loneliness.

"He ain't a lady's dog, you know," said Mr. Toots, "but I hope you won't
mind that. If you would like to have him, he's at the door."

In fact, Diogenes was at that moment staring through the window of a
hackney cabriolet, into which he had been ensnared on a false pretence
of rats among the straw. Sooth to say, he was as unlike a lady's dog as
dog might be; and in his gruff anxiety to get out, gave short yelps, and
overbalancing himself by the intensity of his efforts, tumbled down into
the straw, and then sprung up panting again, putting out his tongue, as
if he had come express to a Dispensary to be examined for his health.

But though Diogenes was as ridiculous a dog as one would meet with on a
summer's day; a blundering, ill-favored, clumsy, bullet-headed dog,
continually acting on the wrong idea that there was an enemy in the
neighborhood whom it was meritorious to bark at; and though he was far
from good-tempered, and certainly was not clever, and had hair all over
his eyes, and a comical nose, and an inconsistent tail, and a gruff
voice,--he was dearer to Florence, in virtue of Paul's parting
remembrance of him, and that request that he might be taken care of,
than the most valuable and beautiful of his kind. So dear, indeed, was
this same ugly Diogenes, and so welcome to her, that she kissed the
hand of Mr. Toots in her gratitude. And when Diogenes, released, came
tearing up the stairs and, bouncing into the room, dived under all the
furniture, and wound a long iron chain that dangled from his neck round
legs of chairs and tables, and then tugged at it until his eyes nearly
started out of his head; and when he growled at Mr. Toots, who affected
familiarity, Florence was as pleased with him as if he had been a
miracle of discretion.

Mr. Toots was so overjoyed by the success of his present, and so
delighted to see Florence bending over Diogenes, smoothing his coarse
back with her little delicate hand--Diogenes graciously allowing it from
the first moment of their acquaintance--that he felt it difficul