Sinclair.—First an enemy to caricatures, and then unfriendly to the dog tribe.
Amelia.—And why not? What are such animals but caricatures of men?
Seyton.—You probably remember what a certain traveller relates of the city of Gratz, "that the place was full of dogs, and of dumb persons half idiotic." Might it not be possible that the habitual sight of so many barking, senseless animals should have produced an effect upon the human race?
Sinclair.—Our attachment to animals deteriorates our passions and affections.
Amelia.—But if our reason, according to the general expression, is sometimes capable of standing still, it may surely do so in the presence of dogs.
Sinclair.—Fortunately there is no one in our company who cares for dogs but Madame Seyton. She is very much attached to her pretty greyhound.
Seyton.—And that same animal is particularly dear and valuable to her husband.
Madame Seyton, from a distance, raised her finger in threat of her husband.
Seyton.—I know a proof that such animals detach our affections from their legitimate objects. May I not, my dear child (addressing his wife), relate our anecdote? We need not be ashamed of it.
Madame Seyton signified her assent by a friendly nod, and he commenced his narration.
"We loved each other, and had entered into an engagement to marry before we had well considered the possibility of supporting an establishment. At length better hopes began to dawn, when I was unexpectedly compelled to set out upon a journey which threatened to last longer than I could have wished. On my departure I forgot my favourite greyhound. It had often been in the habit of accompanying me to the house of my betrothed, sometimes returning with
