away into thin air.

"The iron gate leading to the area was closed, so that there was nowhere
for it to have hidden, and, besides, I was almost bending over it at the
time, as I wanted to read the name on its collar. There being no one
near at hand, I could not obtain a second opinion, and so came away
wondering whether what I had seen was actually a phantasm or a mere
hallucination. No. 90, I might add, judging by the brass plate on the
door, was inhabited by a doctor with an unpronounceable foreign name,"
etc. etc.

I think one cannot help attaching a great deal of importance to what
this lady says, as her language is strictly moderate throughout, and
because she does not seem to have been biassed by any special views on
the subject of animal futurity.

Correspondent No. 2 (who, by the way, is a total stranger to the writer
whose letter I have just quoted) is candidly devoted to dogs, regarding
them as in every way on a par with, if not actually superior to, most
human beings. Still, notwithstanding this partiality, and consequent
profusion of terms of endearment, which will doubtless prove somewhat
nauseating to many, her letter is, in my opinion, valuable, because it
not only refers to the phenomenon I have mentioned, but to a certain
extent furnishes a reason for its occurrence. The lady writes as
follows:--

"I once had a rough-haired dachshund, Robert, whom I loved devotedly. We
were living at the time near H---- Street, which always had a peculiar
attraction for dear Robert, who, I am now obliged to confess, had rather
too much liberty--more, indeed, than eventually proved good for him. The