In the depth of winter, all the dogs in a certain inland town were supposed to be seized with madness. Numbers fell victims to the mania for murdering them, and the noble hound, the fierce mastiff, the graceful spaniel, the sagacious Newfoundland, were, with the common cur, alike liable to death. Fierce-eyed men roamed through the streets, thirsting for blood, and waited to destroy their prey by open assault, or with the treacherous snare of poisoned meat.

The snow lay cold and bright upon all the ground, glittering icicles gemmed all the trees, and no sounds were heard besides the ringing of the merry sleigh-bells, making music through the frosty streets. All is still at the Bee-Hive, when suddenly a boisterous knock is heard at the door, and upon opening it, the well known features of a dog-killer appear.

"Whose dog is this?" he asks in a loud voice. "I really don't know," is the timid reply, "but I believe he belongs to one of the scholars." "Well, he has been sleeping all the morning on the snow, and he looks very queer, so I guess he's mad, and I must kill him." Immediately the mistress of the dog sprang to the door, and with beseeching tones, exclaimed, "Oh, don't kill him, for it is my dog! Poor Rover! He shall not be killed!" The man still brandishes his club, the symptoms of the dog are pronounced those of genuine Hydrophobia, but after a spirited consultation, the dog's life is spared, and he goes home with his happy mistress.

Not long after, he was missing, and it is supposed that being in daily fear of his life, and understanding the fate that awaited him, he travelled off to parts unknown, thereby proving his superior sagacity.

Long may his young defender retain the warm heart and compassionate feelings displayed on that occasion; for a love of the noble animals that serve us is one sign of a kindly, generous soul, and in a woman is most estimable.

Talking of dogs, it may not be amiss to mention one or two other specimens of the canine race that have distinguished themselves in times of yore. Tiger will not be forgotten by those who enjoyed the famous coasting matches, when, after the swift ride down the steep hills of "Auld lang syne," he so readily offered his vigorous services, and after floundering through the snow, brought back the sled to its owner again.

Bruno, too, the companion of many pleasant walks, the attendant on many a boat-ride, swimming half the distance, the ready assistant at any race, and the guardian of his young friends, will not be unremembered.

But first of all in fame, and last in the hearts of those who knew him, will the memory of dear "Old Nep" be cherished. Of him a volume might be written in praise of his youthful grace and beauty, and his superior intelligence, as he increased in years. Sharpened by his intercourse with man he could understand the language addressed to him, and even when spoken of he shewed by signs that he comprehended the remarks made in his presence.

He could carry messages, go on errands with a basket in his mouth, carry bundles, play ball, leap, jump, and slide with the greatest agility. Besides these and many other accomplishments, he could draw a little carriage, harnessed like a horse, and obey all the commands of his young master with untiring patience.

For faithfulness as a watch dog, and for devotion to the interests of the family, by every member of which he was dearly loved, few dogs can compare with him. For a well spent life, and for acting well the part assigned him, he might be cited as an example even to the human race, some of whom might blush at the superior excellence of the dog.