advantage whenever it is stroked or admired. Altogether he is a very vain dog, quite conscious of his good looks. His big, honest, loving brown eyes have none of that sly, shifty look which gives a treacherous appearance to so many collies; his face, which is as good and kind as it is pretty, has a great range of expression, and it is wonderful to see how instantly it will change from a benevolent smile, or even a downright laugh, to a pathetic, deeply injured, or scornful look, if Toto considers himself slighted or insulted. We have to study his feelings carefully, for he is proud and sensitive even beyond the usual nature of collies; and if we have been unfortunate enough to offend him—as often as not quite unintentionally—he will give us the cut direct for several days; repelling all advances with the most freezing indifference, and plainly, though always politely, for he is a thorough gentleman, intimating his wish to drop our acquaintance.
Sometimes we are puzzled to know why Toto is haughty and distant towards us, or ignores our existence; and, on looking back, recall perhaps that so long ago as the day before yesterday one of us, in the hurry of daily work, finding his large form obstructing the door through which we had to pass, told him, somewhat impatiently, to get out of the way.
Or perhaps—worse still—we may have laughed at him. Possibly the mouse he was chasing on the veldt popped into the safety of a hole just as he had all but caught it, and we unfeelingly made a joke of his disappointment—or, in his excessive zeal to hold himself very upright when sitting up to beg at dinner, dear Toto may have leaned back just a little too far and rolled over on to his back; a painful position for so majestic an animal, and one which ought to have commanded respectful silence, instead of provoking an unkind laugh. This misfortune has happened several times to poor Toto, especially during the process of learning his threefold trick of sitting up to beg, "asking"—with a little short bark—for bone or biscuit, and finally catching the contribution in his mouth. It is really difficult to refrain from laughing at his sudden collapse, preceded as it always is by an extra self-satisfied look—just the expression of the dog in Caldecott's "House that Jack built," as he sits smiling and all-unconscious of the cow coming up behind to toss him. A conceited protrusion of Toto's big white shirt-frill is usually the occasion of falling, and no doubt he deserves to be laughed at; but the poor fellow's evident distress, and his "countenance more in sorrow than in anger" at our cruel mirth, have led us to make great efforts to keep our gravity, and, with true politeness, to pretend not to see him.
Though Toto is not generally a demonstrative dog, there is no mistake about his affection for us; he shows it in many quiet little sympathetic ways, and seems even more human than the generality of collies. He has constituted himself my special guardian and protector, and though at all times a very devoted attendant, he would always take extra care of me whenever, during T——'s journeys about the country, I was left at home alone. Then the faithful old fellow would not leave me for an instant. The silent sympathy with which he thrust his nose lovingly into my hand cheered the dreary moment when, after watching T—— out of sight, I turned to walk back to the lonely house; and his quiet unobtrusive presence enlivened all the weeks of solitude. He would lie at my feet as I sat working or writing; follow me from room to room or out of doors, always close at my heels; and curl himself up to sleep under my bed, when at any time during the night the slightest word or movement on my part would produce a responsive "tap, tap," of his tail upon the floor. And when his master returned, he always seemed to look to him for approbation; his whole manner expressing his pride in the good care he had taken of house and mistress.
Our garden at Walmer was constantly invaded by neighbouring fowls and ducks, which would lie in wait outside, ready to slip in the instant the little gate was left open; the fowls of course found plenty of occupation among the flowers; while the ducks would at once make for a large tub, generally full of photographic prints taking their final bath under a tap of slowly-trickling water. The horrid birds seemed to take a delight in driving their clumsy bills through the soft, sodden paper; and after several prints from our best negatives had been destroyed, we summoned Toto to our aid. He threw himself with great energy into the work of ridding us of the intruders. He would lie in ambush for them, and when, much to his delight, they appeared inside the gate, he would rush to the attack, chasing first one and then another about the garden till he caught it; then, lifting it and carrying it out in his mouth as gently as a cat carries her kitten, he would deposit it outside, with much angry quacking or frightened screeching from the victim, as the case might be, but without the loss of a feather.
Once he, in his turn, was attacked by a pugnacious goose, which he was endeavouring to drive out of the garden; and which turned on him savagely, keeping up a desperate battle with him for a long time, until it was quite exhausted, and sat down panting. It chased him many times round our small lawn, and once, in its excitement, put its head right into his mouth. Luckily for the goose, Toto was so utterly bewildered by its strange conduct, that he missed the golden opportunity of snapping off the imbecile head so invitingly presented.
He was equally zealous in keeping the garden free from cats; and in pursuit of one of these he actually climbed so far into the lower branches of a tree that his victim, evidently expecting to see him come all the way to the top, gave himself up for lost, and dropped to the ground in a fit.
Imported dogs often die in South Africa; especially if they remain near Port Elizabeth, or if they have distemper, which is much more severe in the colony than it is in Europe. Poor Toto laboured under both these disadvantages; for during our stay at Walmer he was attacked with distemper, and, the summer being also an unusually hot one, everything seemed against him. He was so ill that we quite gave up all hope of saving him, and bitterly regretted having brought him out with us. Just when he was at his worst, however, business called us away for a few days to Cradock, which is some distance inland; and T——, knowing it to be a healthy place for dogs, suggested that we should take the poor creature with us—dying as he seemed to be—on the slight chance that the change of climate might save him. We left him there—parting from him sadly and without much hope of seeing him again; but we were leaving him in the kindest of hands, and, thanks to the careful nursing he received, as well as to the timely change of air, he lived—indeed, I am glad to say, lives still. He remained some months at Cradock, whence from time to time came the good news of his steady improvement, and finally, some time after we had settled up-country, the announcement that he would be sent off to us at the first opportunity.
Then, one day as we sat at dinner, we heard a sudden and startling tumult in the kitchen; the welcoming voices of the servants; a frantic scuffle outside the sitting-room door; and in rushed Toto, handsomer and fuller of life and spirits than ever; whining and howling with delight, and nearly upsetting us, chairs and all, besides endangering everything on the table, as he jumped wildly to lick our faces. He had been brought from Klipplaat by a passing waggon, in the usual "promiscuous" manner in which property, animate as well as inanimate, is delivered at its destination on Cape farms.
After thus paying his footing in South Africa nearly with his life, Toto was thoroughly acclimatized, and passed through several very hot summers on the farm without a day's illness; only showing by increased liveliness his preference for the cooler weather; being very happy on the occasional really cold days of our short winter, and—like everyone else—cross during a hot wind. He has now accompanied us back to England, where—probably on the strength of being an old traveller who has twice crossed the line—he gives himself great airs, and makes no secret of his contempt for the stay-at-home dogs who have not had his advantages. This involves him in many fights; and the brother and sister with whom—having no settled home in England—we have occasionally left him, have several times been threatened with summonses for his misdeeds.
Toto is now getting on in years—those few years, alas! which make up the little span of a dog's life—but he is still lively enough; and the crows at Mogador, where we spent the winter of 1888-89, will long remember the games they have had with that comical foreign dog, so unlike any of the jackal-like creatures to which they were accustomed. They knew him well, and always seemed to look out for him; and, as soon as he emerged from the ugly white-washed gateway of the town, and approached their favourite haunt, the dirty rubbish-heaps just outside the walls, they would fly close up to him, challenging him to catch them.
Undaunted by invariable failure, he was always ready, and would dash noisily after