calling _him_ names--householders come to doors and cry,
"Shame!"--also throw things at dog--things don't hit dog, hit
uncle--things that don't hit uncle, hit fond parent--through the
village and up the hill, over the bridge and round by the green--grand
run, mile and a half without a break! Children sink exhausted--dog
gambols up among them--children go into fits--fond parent and uncle
come up together, both breathless.

"Why don't you call your dog off, you wicked old man?"

"Because I can't recollect his name, you old fool, you!"

Fond parent accuses uncle of having set dog on--uncle, indignant,
reviles fond parent--exasperated fond parent attacks uncle--uncle
retaliates with umbrella--faithful dog comes to assistance of uncle,
and inflicts great injury on fond parent--arrival of police--dog
attacks police--uncle and fond parent both taken into custody--uncle
fined five pounds and costs for keeping a ferocious dog at
large--uncle fined five pounds and costs for assault on fond
parent--uncle fined five pounds and cost for assault on police!

My uncle gave the dog away soon after that. He did not waste him. He
gave him as a wedding-present to a near relation.

But the saddest story I ever heard in connection with a bull-dog, was
one told by my aunt herself.

Now you can rely upon this story, because it is not one of mine, it is
one of my aunt's, and she would scorn to tell a lie. This is a story
you could tell to the heathen, and feel that you were teaching them