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examine the injured eye. But with a roar like
thunder, up sprang Sweep, tearing himself from my
grasp; the doctor flew through the door as if he had

 

SWEEP AND HIS CAT TRICK.

‘been shot out of a gun; and Sweep’s eye had to get
well by itself.

Sweep hated tramps, and very few dared visit our
house if they knew he was at home. One day in his
objection to this most objectionable race of people,
he nearly devoured one of my friends. She was a
very pretty young lady, who had the gift of transform-
ing herself by a few touches, a twist of her hair, a
red cloak, and an old bonnet, into one of the most
appallingly hideous old women I ever had the misfor-
tune to see. One evening she dressed up in this
fashion, and knocking at the kitchen door, suddenly
appeared before the astonished servants. Sweep was
more than astonished — he was furious — and with
a terrific growl rushed at the supposed tramp and
would certainly have torn her down had she not had
the wit to jump upon the kitchen table, which gave
George time to recognize her and drag the dog off.

Nevertheless in spite of these shows of temper we
were all devoted to Sweep. He was a grand fellow
and a splendid watch dog. Indeed we thought that
it was because he was such a terror to tramps and
evil doers that he came to a melancholy end. For
one day he seemed ill and out of sorts, and before
evening was dead of poison, which had evidently been
laid down for him somewhere near the house.

But I cannot finish Sweep’s history without speak-

always roused bya scramble and a scrimmage.

OUR DOGS AT EVERSLEY—DANDY, SWEEP, VICTOR.

ing of his dear friend “ Victor,” our little royal dog,
for he and Sweep were inseparable companions.
Once when my father was dining at Windsor Cas-
tle, he admired the Queen’s favorite Dachshund,
who never leaves her side ; and the Queen graciously
promised him a puppy as soon as any were ready.
Months went and we heard nothing of the gift.
But the Queen never forgets, and one day my father
received a note from one of the keepers at Windsor:

“DEAR SiR.— A fine deakle pup awaits your commands.”

We laughed over the Englishman’s attempt at
German spelling, but sent the commands; and a
hamper arrived with a little squeaking puppy inside
it. He looked at first like an animated worm with
four legs, he was so long and thin and low. But he
found his way into our hearts in spite of his queer
looks, and became the spoilt child of the house.

These Dachshunds, or Teckels, or German Turn-
spits, are used, as their first name denotes, for
hunting badgers in Germany. ‘They are also use-
ful with-wild boars, as they are so low that when the
boar makes a rush at them~they can generally slip
under his tusks and seize him by the leg. The Prince
of Wales’s famous dog “Woodman” has a great scar
all along his side from the tusk of a wild boar in one
of these encounters. The Dachshunds are of three
colors: black and tan, liver colored, and pale chest-
nut. The last are the most valuable, and also,
alas! the most delicate, as we found to our cost; for
our little dog that we named “ Victor,” after his royal
donor, was a beautiful warm chestnut color. His
long body was set upon the crookedest of legs—
elbows turning out and wrists turning in; his height
when he was full grown was about five inches at the
shoulders; and he was a yard long from the tip of
his nose to the tip of his tail. But his grotesque
appearance was more than made up for by the beauty
of his head. It was like that of a miniature blood-
hound, with fine nose, drooping ears, large pathetic
eyes, and his coat was as smooth as satin.

As I said, he soon became our spoilt child, and
ruled the house. He refused to sleep anywhere save
wrapped in a blanket on a certain low wicker chair
between my sister’s and my beds. If we attempted
to put him elsewhere not a creature in the house
could sleep for Master Victor’s howls. So at last we
succumbed, and our nights were tolerably tranquil
till about four o’clock in the morning, when I was
This