cleared away, my soul had transmigrated,
and I found myself a dog—a wretched, full-sized,
half-fed cur, the property of a costermonger
in the streets of London.

My master was poor, and considered savage;
but as I had seen so much of sportsmen in
my former state, I did not altogether agree
with this opinion. We lived up a filthy court;
without a thoroughfare, just at the back of a
pile of stately mansions, and my duty was to
trot by the side of my master's barrow during
the day, and to keep guard over it all through
the night. The work was hard and the food
was scanty; but the latter was as much as
my master could afford; and I was not in a
position to complain of the former, when I
recollected that I had put many animals to
much more pain for my idle pleasure, than
this man was compelled to inflict in the hard
pursuit of a bare existence.

I was chained by a log to the street-door,
which was kept open, day and night, and my
bed was a little rotten straw thrown down
in the middle of the passage. I could not
complain of this, as there were many children
—dozens, perhaps—sleeping in the same
house, who had no greater luxury under
them. The square yard of our court was
always half full of barrows, the property of
the other inhabitants, who were all costermongers,
like my master. There were many
dogs who guarded these barrows, as I guarded
my master's; and when business was flat,
and my master with some of his neighbours
wanted a little amusement to raise their
spirits, or to occupy their leisure, I was
brought out, being a powerful dog, and set
on to fight one or more of my fourfooted companions.
Here my master and my former
self seemed to meet as sportsmen upon common
ground, but it is surprising with what
different feelings I regarded a dog-fight, when
I was one of the combatants, instead of being
one of the spectators. Sometimes a couple of
precocious urchins—the glory of the court—
would drag me out to make a match while
their parents all the time stood joyfully by,
delighted at the signs of promise exhibited
by their hopeful offspring. I could not, however,
complain in my secret heart—the heart
of my former self—for I well remembered
the day when my father took me, a little
rosy-cheeked boy of four or five years of age,
to pull the trigger of a gun which was placed
across a gate, by which I shot a poor sparrow
that was sitting chirping on a hedge, and
blew his body into a hundred pieces. The
policeman on duty in the neighbourhood of
my master's court, sometimes came up, and
put an end to these frequent dog-fights; and
arbitrary as this interference of authority
undoubtedly was, it struck me it might have
been exerted with great advantage upon half
the great sporting estates of the country.
Sometimes lady-visitors from the fine houses
at our back came round, protected by gentlemen,
to investigate the condition of the lower
orders. Of course they were shocked at our
brutal habits, and our savage nature; but
one of the loudest-complaining ladies of the
party forgot the time when I had seen her
at her country-house, looking with delight
through her gold eye glass at the drawing of
a sturdy badger.

One morning my master, either forgetting,
or being ignorant of the state of the law,
fastened me to his barrow to help in drawing
a heavy load—a task that I had anything but
a relish for. I was obstinate, and would not
pull, which so exasperated my employer, that
he struck me several times with a stick across
the back, as I had often struck an unruly
horse in the country. This brutality—as it
was called—was seen by several people who
cried "shame;" and by a policeman, who
took my master and his barrow into custody.

"What's the meaning of this flying in the
face of an Act of parliament?" asked the
magistrate.

"I don't know anythin' about hacts," said
my master, "I'm tryin' to get a livin'."

"Very likely," returned the magistrate,
"but you're not allowed to get it with dogs.
You're fined one pound."

"More shame for 'em," shouted my master,
"he's as strong as a 'os."

"You're fined a pound," repeated the magistrate,
closing all further controversy.

My master was not prepared to pay the
fine upon the spot, and his barrow was, therefore,
impounded while he went in search of
the money. The policeman unhooked me to
let me walk about the yard, and seizing an
opportunity, I squeezed myself through a
small space under a gate, and turned my
back, for ever, upon my unfortunate master
and his barrow.

I wandered for many hours about the
town, getting very tired and hungry, for I
had had nothing all day, except some milk
which I had stolen out of a milk-can that
stood open by some area-railings. My walk
during the afternoon and evening had been
through a very genteel, not to say aristocratic,
part of the metropolis, where the roads and
gutters were swept so very clean, that they
formed a desert of perfect hopelessness to a
half-starved dog, like myself. Shortly after
dusk I found myself in a low outskirt of the
town, that would have been country, but for
a long range of cinder heaps, that blackened
the whole prospect. Going some distance
past these black hills—still on the main
road—I came suddenly upon a small,
wretched hut, one half of the rafters of
which were visible through the roof. As
I was lingering in front of this building,
the door suddenly opened, and a man
stood full in the doorway. He seemed astonished
and glad to catch sight of me, and
beckoned me in with friendly signs, and the
additional temptation of a piece of bread. I
did not altogether like the place, but the
man appeared friendly, the food was very