THE COMEDIAN.--"Then I will not quote that passage in Schweighauser upon
the Molossian dogs in general, and the dog of Alcibiades in particular.
But it proves beyond a doubt, that, in every ancient literary institute,
learned dogs were highly estimated; and there was even a philosophical
Academy called the Cynic,--that is, Doggish, or Dog-school, of which
Diogenes was the most eminent professor. He, you know, went about with a
lantern looking for an honest man, and could not find one! Why? Because
the Society of Dogs had raised his standard of human honesty to an
impracticable height. But I weary you; otherwise I could lecture on in
this way for the hour together, if you think the Gatesboro' operatives
prefer erudition to amusement."

"A great scholar," whispered Mr. Williams.--Aloud: "and I've nothing to
say against your precedents, sir. I think you have made out that part of
the case. But, after all, a learned dog is not so very uncommon as to be
in itself the striking attraction which you appear to suppose."

"It is not the mere learning of my dog of which I boast," replied the
Comedian. "Dogs may be learned, and men too; but it is the way that
learning is imparted, whether by dog or man, for the edification of the
masses, in order, as Pope expresses himself, 'to raise the genius and to
mend the heart' that alone adorns the possessor, exalts the species,
interests the public, and commands the respect of such judges as I see
before me." The grand bow.

"Ah!" said Mr. Williams, hesitatingly, "sentiments that do honour to
your head and heart; and if we could, in the first instance, just see the
dog privately."