Mr. Ainger's letter in the _Spectator_ of September 22nd reminds me of an almost identical friendship that existed some years ago at Grove House, Knutsford. A long-haired mastiff was kept chained as a watch-dog, and when a white fantail pigeon's mate died, it attached itself to the mastiff, and was continually with it in the kennel. When the dog had its breakfast of porridge and milk, the pigeon would eat out of the bowl at the same time; and when the dog had finished, it would lie flat on its side while the pigeon perched on its head and pecked off the grains of oatmeal that stuck to the long hair round its mouth. The only danger to the pigeon seemed to be that when the dog rushed out of the kennel suddenly to bark, it seemed to forget the pigeon, and we used to fear that the heavy chain might hurt it; but it never was hurt. This friendship lasted many years, till one of the two, I forget which, died. ISABEL JAMISON. DOG AND KITTENS. [_July 1, 1893._] The following story may, perhaps, interest some of your readers:--Willie is a small, rough-haired terrier, a truculent and aggressive character, the terror of tramps, in a skirmish with one of whom he has lost an eye. He rules the kitchen with a rod of iron, the inmate there admiring and fearing him. Next to tramps, Willie hates cats; he has been flogged again and again for chasing the neighbour's "Tom"; nothing can stop him rushing at the alien cat, however. But for his own domestic "Tabby" he has tolerance and a certain amount of affection; if another dog were to attack her, dire would be the warfare. A while ago, this cat had three kittens; two were taken by the maid and placed in a bucket of water, and left to their fate. Before that fate had come Willie perceived them; he snatched them from the bucket one by one, and carried them to his kennel. The maid attempted to get them away, but Willie flew at her with fury, and then returned to lick first one and then the other, to shove them up together, and lie down near them, and in every way to give the poor half-dead things a chance. This went on for some time; but when at last there was no sign of breath, and he saw that they were hopelessly dead, he marched out of the kennel, shook himself, and indicated to the maid that she might now proceed to bury them, that they were past intelligent treatment. He treats the remaining and living kitten with the indifference of the scientific for the normal. L. H. A CANINE NURSE. [_May 18, 1895._]