“I had had this Dog for several years, and had never--even in his puppyhood--known him to steal. On the contrary, he used to make an excellent guard to protect property from other animals, servants, &c., even though these were his best friends. Nevertheless, on one occasion he was very hungry, and in the room where I was reading and he was sitting there was, within easy reach, a savoury mutton chop. I was greatly surprised to see him stealthily remove this chop and take it under a sofa. However, I pretended not to observe what had occurred, and waited to see what would happen next. For fully a quarter of an hour this Terrier remained under the sofa without making it sound, but doubtless enduring an agony of contending feelings. Eventually, however, conscience came off victorious, for, emerging from his place of concealment, and carrying in his mouth the stolen chop, he came across the room and laid the tempting morsel at my feet. The moment he dropped the stolen property he bolted again under the sofa, and from this retreat no coaxing could charm him for several hours afterwards. Moreover, when during that time he was spoken to or patted, he always turned away his head in a ludicrously conscience-stricken manner. Altogether, I do not think it would be possible to imagine a more satisfactory exhibition of conscience by an animal than this; for it must be remembered, as already stated, that the particular animal in question was never beaten in its life.” That extreme sensitiveness, so often an attribute of the highest kinds of mind, was developed to an extraordinary degree in this wonderful Terrier. His owner says:--“A reproachful word or look from me, when it seemed to him that occasion required it, was enough to make this Dog miserable for a whole day. I do not know what would have happened had I ventured to strike him; but once, when I was away from home, a friend used to take him out every day for a walk in the park. He always enjoyed his walks very much, and was now wholly dependent on this gentleman for obtaining them. (He was once stolen in London, through the complicity of my servants, and never after that would he go out by himself, or with any one whom he knew to be a servant.) Nevertheless, one day, while he was amusing himself with another Dog in the park, my friend, in order to persuade him to follow, struck him with a glove. The Terrier looked up at his face with an astonished and indignant gaze, deliberately turned round, and trotted home. Next day he went out with my friend as before, but after he had gone a short distance, he looked up at his face significantly, and again trotted home with a dignified air. After this, my friend could never induce the Terrier to go out with him again. It is remarkable, also, that this animal’s sensitiveness was not only of a selfish kind, but extended itself in sympathy for others. Whenever he saw a man striking a Dog, whether in the house or outside, near at hand or a distance, he used to rush