OUR DOGS AT EVERSLEVY—DANDY, SWEEP, VICTOR.

was Victor, who arrived headlong upon my chest,
scratched the bedclothes aside, wormed his soft little
body down my bed till he reached my feet, and lay
there happily till morning, giving a little growl and
sometimes a gentle nip with his small teeth if I moved.

He was a dog of very aristocratic tastes. No
power on earth could make him go down by the back-
stairs; and if the maids ever chanced to persuade
him to come with them to the kitchen, he would leave
them to go down their own way, and running round

by the front staircase, meet them at the kitchen door,

Dachshunds were much less common twelve years
ago than they are now. And when my father’s duties
took us to Chester for three months every summer,
we were almost mobbed by the boys of that dear old
city when we took Victor out walking. His long
back, his crooked legs, and his bright, intelligent head
were sources of never-failing wonder and delight to
the young rogues, who pursued us with jeers and
shouts, of which Victor never took notice.

But it was at Eversley that the little dog was the
happiest. Sometimes he went out ona private rabbit
hunt with his friend Sweep; and we used to see the
little wriggling yellow body panting after his big
black companion, and imagining he was going to
catch a rabbit that outstripped him in a moment.

But when the dinner-bell— or still more on Sunday,
when the church bells rang —then, indeed, we had a
ludicrous exhibition from the two dogs. Sweep could

not endure the sound of bells, and the moment they -

began to ring down went his tail, up went his head,
and round and round the house he flew howling in
the most frightful way. Victor had not the least
natural objection to bes —at Chester he bore the
whole cathedral chime with perfect composure —
but he felt it right to show his sympathy for Sweep
when he was with him, upon the principle that imita-

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oe. ST

179

tion is the sincerest flattery. So as soon as the bells
began, out of the house shot Victor; over the lawn,
along the garden paths and through the yard he
followed Sweep in his agonized race, turning where
he turned, stopping where he stopped, and adding
shrill yelps and howls to his friend’s lamentations.

- Poor little Victor; his life was. a short one. When
we had had him for nearly two years he fell terribiy
ill, And in spite of every care—in spite of his
beloved master sitting up with him for three whole
nights watching and tending the suffering little crea-
ture—he died at last, and
was buried beside Dandy and
his friend Sweep under the
fir-trees,

        
  
   

After that, my father said AN : Wale y
he would never have Ss oi \ -

another pet

  

SWEEP COULD NOT ENDURE THE SOUND
OF BELLS.

dog ; they cost one too much sorrow. So Victor
was the last of the faithful friends who were so
faithfully loved by their master.

 

“MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL!”