is mistress dined.

During one of these hasty visits he met a young woman, whom he had
never seen before, wearing his mistress's cloak. After looking at her
with a scrutinising eye, he turned round, and followed her closely, to
her great dismay, to a neighbouring village four miles off, where the
brother of his mistress lived, and into whose house the woman entered.
Probably concluding from this circumstance that she was a privileged
person, he returned quietly back again. Had she passed the house, the
dog would most probably have seized the cloak, in order to restore it
to his mistress.

I trust my readers will begin to feel some interest in this sagacious
and useful animal, and I will add one or two more well-authenticated
anecdotes of him.

Captain Brown says that his friend, Mr. Peter Macarthur, related to
him the following anecdote of a shepherd's dog, which belonged to his
grandfather, who at that time resided in the Island of Mull:--Upon one
occasion a cow had been missed for some days, and no trace of it could
be found; and a shepherd's dog, called Drummer, was also absent. On
the second or third day the dog returned, and taking Mr. Macarthur's
father by the coat, pulled him towards the door, but he did not follow
it; he then went to his grandfather, and pulled him in the same way by
the coat, but without being attended to; he next went to one of the
men-servants, and tugged him also by the coat. Conceiving at last
there was something particular which the dog wanted, they agreed to
follow him: this seemed to give him great pleasure, and he ran
barking and frisking before them, till he led them to a cow-shed, in
the middle of a field. There they found the cow fixed by the horns to
a beam, from which they immediately extricated her and conducted her
home, much exhausted for want of food. It is obvious, that but for the
sagacity of this faithful animal she certainly would have died.

Mr. John Cobb, farmer at Tillybirnie, parish of Lethnot, near Brechin,
during a severe snow-storm in the year 1798, had gone with his dog,
called Caesar, to a spot on the small stream of Paphry (a tributary of
the North Esk), where his sheep on such occasions used to take shelter
beneath some lofty and precipitous rocks called Ugly Face, which
overhung the stream. While employed in driving them out, an immense
avalanche fell from these rocks, and completely buried him and his
dog. He found all his endeavours to extricate himself fr