that he didn't believe; and worse London dogs came up and made proposals
to him to go end steal in the market, which his principles rejected; and
the ways of the town confused him, and he crept aside and lay down in a
doorway. He had scarcely got a wink of sleep, when up comes Punch with
Toby. He was darting to Toby for consolation and advice, when he saw the
frill, and stopped, in the middle of the street, appalled. The show was
pitched, Toby retired behind the drapery, the audience formed, the drum
and pipes struck up. My country dog remained immovable, intently staring
at these strange appearances, until Toby opened the drama by appearing
on his ledge, and to him entered Punch, who put a tobacco-pipe into
Toby's mouth. At this spectacle the country dog threw up his head, gave
one terrible howl, and fled due west.

We talk of men keeping dogs, but we might often talk more expressively
of dogs keeping men. I know a bull-dog in a shy corner of Hammersmith
who keeps a man. He keeps him up a yard, and makes him go to the
public-houses and lay wagers on him, and obliges him to lean against
posts and look at him, and forces him to neglect work for him, and keeps
him under rigid coercion. I once knew a fancy terrier who kept a
gentleman--a gentleman who had been brought up at Oxford, too. The dog
kept the gentleman entirely for his glorification, and the gentleman
never talked about anything but the terrier. This, however, was not in a
shy neighbourhood, and is a digression consequently.

There are a great many dogs in shy neighbourhoods who keep boys. I have
my eye on a mongrel in Somerstown who keeps three boys. He feigns that
he can bring down sparrows and unburrow rats (he can do neither), and he
takes the boys out on sporting pretences into all sorts of suburban
fields. He has likewise made them believe that he possesses some
mysterious knowledge of the art of fishing, and they consider themselves