The dog was then artfully led on from one accomplishment to another, much within the ordinary range which bounds the instruction of learned animals. He was asked to say how many ladies were on the stage: he spelt three. What were their names? “The Graces.” Then he was asked who was the first magistrate in the town. The dog made a bow to the Mayor. “What had made that gentleman first magistrate?” The dog looked to the alphabet and spelt “Worth.” “Were there any persons present more powerful than the Mayor?” The dog bowed to the three young ladies. “What made them more powerful?” The dog spelt “Beauty.” When ended the applause these answers received, the dog went through the musket exercise with the soldier’s staff; and as soon as he had performed that, he came to the business part of the exhibition, seized the hat which his master had dropped on the ground, and carried it round to each person on the stage. They looked at one another. “He is a poor soldier’s dog,” said the child, hiding her face. “No, no; a soldier cannot beg,” cried the Comedian. The Mayor dropped a coin in the hat; others did the same or affected to do it. The dog took the hat to his master, who waved him aside. There was a pause. The dog laid the hat softly at the soldier’s feet, and looked up at the child beseechingly. “What,” asked she, raising her head proudly--“what secures WORTH and defends BEAUTY?” The dog took up the staff and shouldered it. “And to what can the soldier look for aid when he starves and will not beg?” The dog seemed puzzled,--the suspense was awful. “Good heavens,” thought the Comedian, “if the brute should break down after all!--and when I took such care that the words should lie undisturbed-right before his nose!” With a deep sigh the veteran started from his despondent attitude, and crept along the floor as if for escape--so broken-down, so crestfallen. Every eye was on that heartbroken face and receding figure; and the eye of that heartbroken face was on the dog, and the foot of that receding figure seemed to tremble, recoil, start, as it passed by the alphabetical letters which still lay on the ground as last arranged. “Ah! to what should he look for aid?” repeated the grandchild, clasping her little hands. The dog had now caught the cue, and put his paw first upon “WORTH,” and then upon “BEAUTY.” “Worth!” cried the ladies--“Beauty!” exclaimed the Mayor. “Wonderful, wonderful!” “Take up the hat,” said the child, and turning to the Mayor--“Ah! tell him, sir, that what Worth and Beauty give to Valour in distress is not alms but tribute.” The words were little better than a hack claptrap; but the sweet voice glided through the assembly, and found its way into every heart.