hetereogeneous rubbish, and wide easy-chairs that one could hardly
lift, one of which was always occupied by Jumbles, Uncle Geoffrey's
dog.

Jumbles was a great favorite with us all. He was a solemn, wise
-looking dog of the terrier breed, indeed, I believe Uncle Geoff
called him a Dandy Dinmont--blue-gray in color, with a great head,
and deep-set intelligent eyes. It was Uncle Geoffrey's opinion that
Jumbles understood all one said to him. He would sit with his head
slightly on one side, thumping his tail against the floor, with a
sort of glimmer of fun in his eyes, as though he comprehended our
conversation, and interposed a "Hear, hear!" and when he had had
enough of it, and we were growing prosy, he would turn over on his
back with an expression of abject weariness, as though canine
reticence objected to human garrulity.

Jumbles was a rare old philosopher--a sort of four-footed Diogenes.
He was discerning in his friendships, somewhat aggressive and
splenetic to his equals; intolerant of cats, whom he hunted like
vermin, and rather disdainfully condescending to the small dogs of
Milnthorpe. Jumbles always accompanied Uncle Geoffrey in his rounds.
He used to take his place in the gig with undeviating punctuality;
nothing induced him to desert his post when the night-bell rang. He
would rouse up from his sleep, and go out in the coldest weather. We
used to hear his deep bark under the window as they sallied out in
the midnight gloom.

The morning after we arrived, Allan and I made a tour of inspection
through the house. There were only three rooms on the first floor--
Uncle Geoffrey's, with its huge four-post bed; a large front room,