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My uncle said he should never have dreamed there could have been such stirring times in this prosaic nineteenth century as he had, training that dog.

Oh, the wild, wild scamperings over the breezy common--the dog trying to catch a swallow, and my uncle, unable to hold him back, following at the other end of the chain!

Oh, the merry frolics in the fields, when the dog wanted to kill a cow, and the cow wanted to kill the dog, and they each dodged round my uncle, trying to do it!

And, oh, the pleasant chats with the old ladies when the dog wound the chain into a knot around their legs, and upset them, and my uncle had to sit down in the road beside them, and untie them before they could get up again!

But a crisis came at last. It was a Saturday afternoon--uncle being exercised by dog in usual way--nervous children playing in road, see dog, scream, and run--playful young dog thinks it a game, jerks chain out of uncle's grasp, and flies after them--uncle flies after dog, calling it names--fond parent in front garden, seeing beloved children chased by savage dog, followed by careless owner, flies after uncle, calling _him_ names--householders come to doors and cry, "Shame!"--also throw things at dog--things don't hit dog, hit uncle--things that don't hit uncle, hit fond parent--through the village and up the hill, over the bridge and round by the green--grand run, mile and a half without a break! Children sink exhausted--dog gambols up among them--children go into fits--fond parent and uncle come up together, both breathless.

"Why don't you call your dog off, you wicked old man?"

"Because I can't recollect his name, you old fool, you!"

Fond parent accuses uncle of having set dog on--uncle, indignant, reviles fond parent--exasperated fond parent attacks uncle--uncle retaliates with umbrella--faithful dog comes to assistance of uncle, and inflicts great injury on fond parent--arrival of police--dog attacks police--uncle and fond parent both taken into custody--uncle fined five pounds and costs for keeping a ferocious dog at large--uncle fined five pounds and costs for assault on fond parent--uncle fined five pounds and cost for assault on police!

My uncle gave the dog away soon after that. He did not waste him. He gave him as a wedding-present to a near relation.

But the saddest story I ever heard in connection with a bull-dog, was one told by my aunt herself.

Now you can rely upon this story, because it is not one of mine, it is one of my aunt's, and she would scorn to tell a lie. This is a story you could tell to the heathen, and feel that you were teaching them the truth and doing them good. They give this story out at all the Sunday-schools in our part of the country, and draw moral lessons from it. It is a story that a little child can believe.

It happened in the old crinoline days. My aunt, who was then living in a country-town, had gone out shopping one morning, and was standing in the High Street, talking to a lady friend, a Mrs. Gumworthy, the doctor's wife. She (my aunt) had on a new crinoline that morning, in which, to use her own expression, she rather fancied herself. It was a tremendously big one, as stiff as a wire-fence; and it "set" beautifully.