MY EARLY FRIENDS. 137

when even the sandy roads of that district were wet and miry,
that an elder sister, who had gone to make calls in the village,
came back half-a-mile with Rona. The dog had stolen out
and kept at a safe distance in the rear, till she considered that
she was beyond the danger of being marched home, when she
capered to the front, and her unconscious companion not only
perceived who was her attendant, but discovered, to her
mingled diversion and chagrin, that the dog was dressed
in that supremely absurd pair of pantaloons, plentifully
bespattered with mud.
 By the time the younger members of the family were sent
to school, poor Rona was up in years, and had become peevish
and snappish in her growing infirmities, so that it was judged
advisable that she should be quietly put out of the way in her
mistresses' absence. When we came home jubilant, we found
no Rona waddling out to greet us, and I am afraid we had so
many to meet, and so much to occupy us, that we hardly
missed our humble friend.
 A contemporary of Rona's was a tall, gaunt, black-with
silver hairs, peculiarly ugly, and valuable sheep-dog, which
was my father's friend. His ugliness was the result either of
disease or of an accident, which had removed a portion of the
lip and exposed his teeth on one side, but which did not
impair his health, or detract from his merit as a wise and an
efficient collie. His name, which was not given by us, was
peculiar. I imagine it was either a mistake or a corruption.
Instead of being termed Yarrow," Tweed," or Heather,"
the traditional names for Scotch collies, he was called
"Gasto," which I have a notion must have been a per-
version of "Gaston," though how a Scotch collie came to
 S