Blink looked up into his face, and, with the acumen for which her breed is noted, perceiving he desired her to enter the water backed away from it. "She is not a water dog," explained Mr. Lavender to the three soldiers in blue clothes. "Good dog; fetch it!" Blink backed into the soldiers, who, bending down, took her by head tail, threw her into the pond, and encouraged her on with small stones pitched at the hat. Having taken the plunge, the intelligent animal waded boldly to the hat, and endeavoured by barking and making little rushes at it with her nose, to induce it to return to shore. "She thinks it's a sheep," said Mr. Lavender; "a striking instance of hereditary instinct." Blink, unable to persuade the hat, mounted it with her fore-paws and trod it under. "Ooray!" shouted the crowd. "Give us a shilling, guv'nor, an' I'll get it for yer?" "Thank you, my boy," said Mr. Lavender, producing a shilling. The boy—the same boy who had thrown it in—stepped into the water and waded towards the hat. But as he approached, Blink interposed between him and the hat, growling and showing her teeth. "Does she bite?" yelled the boy. "Only strangers," cried Mr. Lavender. Excited by her master's appeal, Blink seized the jacket of the boy, who made for the shore, while the hat rested in the centre of the pond, the cynosure of the stones with which the soldiers were endeavouring to drive it towards the bank. By this, time the old lady had rejoined Mr. Lavender. "Your nice hat she murmured. "I thank you for your sympathy, madam," Lavender, running his hand through his hair; "in moments like these one realizes the deep humanity of the British people. I really believe that in no other race could you find such universal interest and anxiety to recover a hat. Say what you will, we are a great nation, who only, need rousing to show our best qualities. Do you remember the words of the editor: 'In the spavined and spatch-cocked ruin to which our inhuman enemies have reduced civilization, we of the
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