And yey yclept him lyttel Bingo.
Ye Franchelyn's wyfe brewed nutte-brown ayle,

And he yclept ytte rare-goode Stingo,
S - T -I-N - G-O,

And he yclept ytte rare goode Stingo.
Now ys not this a prettye rhyme,
I thynke ytte ys bye Jingo,
J-I.N-G-O,
1 thynke ytte ys bye Jingo."

BINGO
The Story of My Dog

I

IT WAS EARLY in November, 1882, and the Manitoba winter had
just set in. I was tilting back in my chair for a few lazy moments
after breakfast, idly alternating my gaze from the one
window-pane of our shanty, through which was framed a bit of the
prairie and the end of our cowshed, to the old rhyme of the
'Franckelyn's dogge' pinned on the logs near by. But the dreamy
mixture of rhyme and view was quickly dispelled by the sight of a
large gray animal dashing across the prairie into the cowshed, with
a smaller black and white animal in hot pursuit.

"A wolf," I exclaimed, and seizing a rifle dashed out to help the
dog. But before I could get there they had left the stable, and after
a short run over the snow the wolf again turned at bay, and the