But the cunning of the dog was equal to the emergency. Did the spies of the custom-house expect him at one gate,――he saw them at a distance, and instantly ran to another. Were all the gates shut against him,――he overcame every obstacle; sometimes he leaped over the wall; at others, passing secretly behind a carriage or running between the legs of travellers, he would thus accomplish his aim. One day, however, while swimming a stream near Malines, he was shot, and died in the water. There was then about him five thousand crowns’ worth of lace――the loss of which did not afflict his master, but he was inconsolable for the loss of his faithful dog. The Poet’s Dog. The manner in which Pope, the great English poet, was preserved by the sagacity of his dog, is truly remarkable. This animal, who was called Marquis, could never agree with a favorite servant of his master’s; he constantly growled when near him, and would even show his teeth whenever this servant approached. Although the poet was singularly attached to this dog,――who was a spaniel of the largest species,――yet, on account of his extreme neatness, which he pushed almost to excess, he would never allow him to remain in his chamber. Nevertheless, in spite of positive orders, the spaniel would frequently sneak, towards evening, into the apartment of his master, and would not be driven from it without the greatest difficulty. One evening, having slipped very softly in without being perceived, the animal placed himself under the bed of his master, and remained there. Towards morning, the servant rushed hastily into the chamber of Pope. At this moment, the dog suddenly left his post and leaped on the villain, who was armed with a pistol. The poet started from his sleep; he threw open the window to call for assistance, and beheld three highwaymen, who had been introduced by his servant into the garden of his villa, for the purpose of robbing him. Disconcerted by this unforeseen accident, the robbers hesitated a moment, and then took flight. The servant, thus betrayed by the watchful dog, was sentenced to forfeit his life. The same dog, shortly after this singular event, exhibited another proof of his remarkable instinct. Pope, reposing one afternoon in a little wood about twelve miles distant from his house, lost a watch of great value. On returning home, the poet wished to know the hour, and found his watch was not in his fob. Two or three hours had elapsed, and a violent storm was just commencing.