soon released. Captain Symmes repented his cruel deed on learning that Napoleon had once saved his owner's life.

But a few days elapsed ere poor Napoleon became the hero of a more thrilling occurrence, the very thought of which has often filled me with horror. During the interval the noble beast was not at all backward in exhibiting his wrath at the captain by his growls, whenever he approached. In vain did his master, fearful for the life of his dog, essay to check these signs of his anger. Captain Symmes, however, made due allowance and offered no further harm to him. One morning, as the Captain was standing on the bowsprit, he lost his footing and fell overboard, the "Cecilia" then running at about fifteen knots.

"Captain Symmes overboard!" was the cry, and all rushed to get out the boat as they saw a swimmer striking out for the brig, which was at once rounded-to. By the time the boat touched the water, their worst fears were realized; for, at some distance behind the swimmer, they beheld, advancing towards him, the fish most dreaded in those waters-a large white shark.

Hurry! hurry, men, or we shall be too late!" exclaimed the mate. "What's that?" The splash which caused this inquiry was occasioned by the plunge of Napoleon into the sea. The noble animal rapidly made his way toward the now nearlyexhausted captain, who, aware of his double danger, and being but a passable swimmer, made fainter and fainter strokes, while his adversary closed rapidly upon him.

"Pull, boys, for dear life," was the shout of the mate as the boat now followed the dog.

Slowly the fatigued swimmer made his way; ever and anon his head sank in the waves, and behind him the noise of the voracious animal told him what fearful progress he was making,

while Lancaster, in the bow of the boat, stood with a knife in his upraised hand, watching alternately the captain and his pursuer, and the faithful animal which had saved his own life.

There was a fixed look of determination in Lancaster's face, which convinced all, that should the dog become a sacrifice to the shark, Lancaster would revenge his death, if possible, even at the risk of his own life.

"What a swimmer!" exclaimed the men who marked the speed of the animal. "The shark will have one or both, if we don't do our best." The scene was of short duration. Ere the boat could overtake the dog, the enormous shark had arrived within three oars' length of the captain, and suddenly turned over on his back, preparatory to darting on the sinking man and receiving him in his vast jaws, which now displayed their long, triangular teeth.

The wild shriek of the captain announced that the crisis had come. But now Napoleon, seemingly inspired with increased strength, had also arrived, and with a fierce howl leapt upon the gleaming belly of the shark, and buried his teeth in the monster's flesh, while the boat swiftly neared them.

"Saved! if we are half as smart as that dog is!" cried the mate, as all saw the voracious monster shudder in the sea, and quivering with pain, turn over again, the dog retaining his hold and becoming submerged in the water.

At this juncture the boat arrived, and Lancaster, with his knife in his teeth, plunged into the water where the captain also had now sunk from view.

But a few moments elapsed ere the dog rose to the surface, and soon after Lancaster, bearing the insensible form of the captain. "Pull them in and give them a bar," cried the mate, "for that

fellow is preparing for another launch." His orders were obeyed, and the second onset of the monster was foiled by the mate splashing water in his eyes. He came again, but a few seconds too late to snap up the captain's body, which was just drawn into the boat. Foiled the second time, the shark plunged, and was seen no more, but left a track of blood on the surface of the water, a token of the severity of the dog's wound.

The boat was now pulled towards the brig, and not many hours elapsed before the captain was on deck again, very feeble, but able to appreciate the services of brave Napoleon, and most bitterly to lament the cruel act which had mutilated him for ever.

"I would give my right arm!" he exclaimed, as he patted the Newfoundland who stood by his side, "if I could only repair the injury I have done that splendid fellow. Lancaster, you are now avenged, and so is he, and a most Christian vengeance it is, though it will be a source of grief to me as long as I live."

Freddy. The two stories I am going to tell you are not quite so serious as those we have just heard, but they suit little people like me Tiny was a favourite dog, belonging to Samuel Statham, Esq., of Stone House, Forest Row, in Sussex. Tiny often preferred the kitchen hearthrug to that in the drawing-room, as he dearly loved a warm corner; but, wherever he was-even though comfortably asleep, the prayer-bell always roused him, and was the signal for him to take his place. This was a footstool by the fireside, from which he never stirred until he heard the word "Amen." The moment, however, that word was

pronounced, down jumped Tiny, and before his master could even rise from his knees, the faithful little animal was waiting for his usual caress. He would at any time, when desired, go through sundry pretty performances, such as sitting on his hindlegs, shaking "hands" with his master, mistress, and guests, much to the amusement of all present. Immediately, however, that the words "go to the kitchen, Tiny," were heard, off he scampered to his mat-an example for all those disobedient children who have to be told twice to do a thing.

One morning, sad to tell, poor Tiny came creeping into the parlour very slowly. When he got to the fireside his strength failed him. It was evident that he was in great pain, and with difficulty he contrived to crawl upon his hassock, from which he had not strength to get down, though he feebly wagged his tail at the well-known "Amen." This was the last time Tiny came in to "prayers." The veterinary surgeon was sent for, and everything that affection and money could do was done to restore the interesting little creature; but in a few hours he died.

Papa. In the life of that remarkable man, Samuel Drew, of Cornwall, an amusing account is given of two dogs belonging to his family. He states:-"Our dairy was under a room which was used as a barn, into which the fowls found their way, and, in scratching among the chaff, scattered dust on the pans below, to the great annoyance of my mother-in-law. In this a favourite cock of hers was the chief transgressor. One day, in harvest, she went into the dairy, followed by our little dog; and finding dust again. on the milk-pans, she exclaimed, 'I wish that cock was dead!' Not long after, she being with us in the harvest-field, we observed the little dog dragging along the cock, just killed, which, with an air of triumph, he laid at my mother-in-law's feet. She was dread