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DEVONIAN’S STORY.

My story must needs be a short one. In my
own country I am called “The Bold Dragoon,”
and as every name either has or ought to have
a particular meaning, I am so called in con-
sequence of having once been in the possession
of a certain captain of dragoons, who lived in
the far West. These are my facts. I was
born and bred in a wild part of Devonshire, and
when a year old fell into the possession of
_ a keeper. To state exactly how such a thing
happened, might sometimes be inconvenient,
as in hunting countries a man scarcely dares
to confess the crime of capturing a fox, for
lucre at least, But here the keeper, thinking

me remarkable for size and strength, car-