to raise discordant cries, which were understood
as a desire to see the noble animal once more, in
a sort of private capacity. And presently the curtain
being drawn aside, to our speechless delight
we saw him again; that is, his huge bluff head,
and red jaws and tongue, which it seems
constitutional with him to keep on view, for
respiratory ends. He withdrew it in a second, but
reappeared a little suddenly, giving the idea of
having been propelled from behind. He then
stepped forth gravely and deliberately, and
trotted across, swinging his coat in measured
beats, until he reached the other end. Then
something appeared to irritate the huge flap of
his ear, and with a delightful aplomb, he at once
dropped into a sitting attitude, and with his hind
paw proceeded diligently to alleviate this cutaneous
affection. The ease, the absence of shyness,
the happy air, with which this operation
was accomplished, would have done credit to
any man of the world, were he trained in the
very best circles. When the work was accomplished
to his satisfaction, he retired, pushing
the curtain aside with his nose. I question if
this act, performed in a private capacity, did not
endear the noble animal to us, more than his
more elaborate performances.

A troubled feverish sort of night followed this
first mental trouble we had known. Our hearts
fluttered uneasily. The gorgeous lights of the
scenic world danced before our eyes. Our neat
and orderly chamber, otherwise welcome, became
odious and prison-like. In the morning we
awoke, and came down with a heavy, heavy
weight upon our soul. To look back, it seemed
a blissful night, bathed in golden purple, pink—
what hue was it?—light. And the dog! Thrice
noble, grand, brave, gallant, lovable animal.
Then came an internal soreness as we thought
of him.

In the middle of the day, our father took us
away up to London: our aunt, over whom principle
had now again asserted its sway, taking of
us a cold and stern farewell. We were going
home; there were joyful times approaching;
unbounded cake, a certain freeness in a money
direction, and a general license as to manners.
Home was always welcome; and with such a
festival as a sister's marriage! And yet on this
occasion we went forth with mournfulness. We
seemed to be leaving a friend. I believe—but
we did not dare even to whisper this—that if the
matter were open to such an arrangement, we
would have cheerfully exchanged all our chance
of future joys for one more night of canine
happiness. A rash improvident contract, such would
have been, but we would have entered into it
cheerfully. Where was he now, the noble
creature? How was it with him in private life?
Did he feast on the fat of the land, as a dog of
such gifts should? A hundred such questions
as these entertained us, as we were borne far
away from him and Wearmouth.

The family were in all the flutter and
confusion attendant on the sister's marriage.
We were welcome, yet not very highly
considered. Would overlooked be too strong an
expression? And yet our treatment, generally,
verged in this direction. In fact, there was
mantua-making on a gigantic scale going
forward within the walls of the mansion, under
the personal superintendence of our mother.
This accounted for any apparent deficiency in
the affections. Nor, in sooth, did we heed it.
We were changed, and it was remarked that
there was a moodiness in our bearing. Once,
indeed, we broached the DOG, and volunteered
a little narrative of that evening; but they were
cutting out at the moment, and the fervent
attention, after a moment's affectation of listening,
wandered away.

The bridegroom we took to amazingly.
Plusher was his name—John Plusher—a good
fellow, honest, rough, and—he took us out and
gave us treats. O, how we liked him! Possibly
next to the noble animal Cæsar, to whom our
hearts yearned more and more. And very soon
we were tempted to unfold to him, the whole
story of that splendid animal. Not only then,
but often. Not only the mere narrative, but
the most abundant details. He relished it.
His attention did not wander. One day he
proposed gifts—gifts of astounding value, to be
measured by pounds—the object to be left to
our election. What would we have? Come!
We were not to be afraid, but to speak out.
Come—a second time! We began to blush and
glow, and to drop our eyes, and finally murmured
the "Dog Cæsar."

"By Jove! yes!" said Plusher. "I'll go
down to-morrow, and see if the theatrical fellows
are there. Or, if they are gone, we can find out
where they are. We'll get him, never fear!"
There was something so noble and confident in
John Plusher's manner, that it quite overcame
us. Noble John Plusher!

Noble John Plusher arrived the next evening,
after we had spent a day of horrible anxiety.
This was the intelligence he brought. Two nights
after the famous performance, the renowned
Delaval Family had departed abruptly, taking
with them all their effects, which were of a
portable character. Taking with them also,
the dog Cæsar. Perhaps this sudden disappearance
(which was accompanied with secrecy
and mystery) might be set down to disgust at
the slender support accorded to their talents;
but there was more probability in imputing it to
a sudden call for a nightly settlement of accounts,
which it seems the proprietor—who had a deep
acquaintance with human nature—was accustomed
to insist on. In fact, the Theatre Royal,
Wearmouth, was usually taken on this precarious
tenure, it being its lot to become suddenly
occupied and as suddenly deserted, many times
in the course of the year. It would have been
supposed that from his acquaintance with this
curious law, the proprietor would have been
wary of his tenants. But somehow, the skilful
Delaval Family had contrived to disappear, taking
with them all their effects, and the renowned
DOG CÆSAR. The noble creature, without any
fault of his own, had departed under the odium