The weekly Shasta courier., 1873-02-22
s. An Ugly Dog"

Splish-splash," went the wretched do,
through the mud, his ears hanging dow
and his tail between his legs.
"Ohl the ugly dog" cried two young
girls who were carrying home clothes from
the wash.
"Oh the ugly brute" shouted carter
and he gave his whip loud crack to fright
en- him. But the dog took no heed of them
lie ran patiently on, only stopping at the
crossings where there were too many car
riages for him to pass, but not seeming to
busy himself at all as to what people said
or what they thought about him.
He ran on so for long way.
No doubt of it. he was an ugly dog He
was lean and scraggy. His coat was of a
dirty gray color, and in many places the
hair was worn off in patches. Neither were
there any tokens that he had ever been a
handsome dog, and that his present state of
wretchedness was owing merely to sudden
misfortune. He looked on the contrary, as
as though he had always been an ill-fed dog,
having desultory habits, no home to go to,
and seldom anything better to eat than a
chance bone or a crust picked up in the
gutter. Yes, he was certainly miserable
dog.
But I wondered to see him run so obsti-
nately in the middle of the road, when there
was room in plenty for him on the pavement.
He was small dog, and by trotting close
under the shop-fronts he could have slipped
unnoticed through the crowd, and not have
exposed himself to be run over by the cabs
and whipped by the carriers. But no he
preferred the road where the mud was, and
ran straight before him, without looking
right or left, just exactly as if he knew his
way.
might have paid no more attention to
this dog, for there are enough Of whom
take no notice but | observed that he had
q collar round his neck, and that to this
collar was attached basket. This set me
thinking; for dog who carries basket is
either dog sent out on an errand, or a
runaway dog who has left his master, and
does not know where to CO. Now which
could this one be? If he was a dog that
ran on errands, why did not his owners feed
him better, so that his ribs should look less
spare? Buff he was dog who had left
his master, and run away into the world to
face care and trouble alone, what hardships
or what cruelties had he to suffer, that
he should have taken such step in despair
| felt should like to have these questions
answered tor there was something of mys-
terry in them | therefore followed the dog.
We were in Oxford Street, in that part OF
it which lies between the Marble Arch and
the direction of the Regent Circus. 1t was
a dull, wet day in winter the rain had been
falling. A gray fog was spreading its vapors
along the road, and every one looked cold
and uncomfortable. A few shops were be-
ing lighted up here and there, for evening
was setting in. But the contrast between
the glare of the gas and the occasional glow
of the red coal fires burning cheerily in the
CRATES of ground-hoor parlors, only served
to make the streets seem more dark and
dreary. And yet the dog went pattering on
going at sort Of quick jog trot pace, keep
ing his ears always down, and paying no at
tention either to the omnibuses that rolled
by him, the costermongers who swore at
him, or the other dogs who stopped at times
with puzzled air. and gazed at him with
silent wonder. | had to step out fast to
keep up with him. 1t is astonishing how
that squalid dog could trotl / was afraid
more than once that he would distance me.
but, thanks to the knack he had of always
keeping to the middle of the road, | was
prevented from losing sight of him. We
passed North Audley Street, after that
Duke Street, and then We came opposite a
small street which forms very narrow and
dirty thoroughtare at the end which is near
est Oxford Street. Here the dog paused
for moment and appeared to hesitate as to
what he should do. He made a few steps
forward, then receded but finally, seemed
to make up his mind and entered the street,
still trotting. There was no one there
The dim drlzzling rain, which had begun to
fall again, the cold, and the fog had all
scared away the habitual frequenters of the
one or two sordid cook-shops that line both
sides OF the way. There was only a rag land
boneman sorting broken bottles at his door
and coughing wheezily from old age and
misery. The dog went on. The street
grows wider as one proceeds, and the houses
also become better and cleaner. | asked
myself whether the dog could possibly have
his home about here; and whether he would
not suddenly disappear down an area, in
which case the romance Of the thing would
have been ended, and should have had my
walk for nothing. But no, he turned abrupt
ly off at a news, and, after a few seconds
of the same apparent hesitation as before,
slackened his pace and stopped opposite a
public-house.
A news is never quite empty. There are
always grooms loa6ng about in doorways
or stable boys going in and out of wash
houses. At the moment when the dog and
l appeared, coachman was harnessing two
horses to brougham, and couple of men
were helping him. Opposite, md exchang-
ing remarks with them from the threshold
of the public-house, stood a servant in
breeches smoking long clay pipe; the dog
was standing still but all at once, before
had had time to suspect what was going to