"Moir was a pious man, and his early history had been one of striking
adventure. As he sat by the fireside, quietly narrating various passages
of his past life, his faithful dog crouched close beside him, dozing and
evidently dreaming at intervals; for he made strange noises, and paddled
with his fore-feet, as though he were still struggling with the waves.
His master looked fondly on the animal, and said,--

"'You'd hardly credit, sir, the surprising sagacity of these dogs. Some
of them are perfect wonders. They have more sense, really, it seems,
than many so-called Christians, and I have sometimes thought they must
reason.

"'Boxa is a fair specimen of the race, and I could tell you some of his
doings which would make you ask--Is it possible? I have known him help
to carry to shore some light spars which the captain of a vessel in the
harbour desired him to convey to the land-wash, in order that a boat's
crew might be saved the trouble of taking them. Another dog belonging
to the same wharf, whether of his own accord, or being pressed into the
service, took to helping him at this work for a time; he soon tired,
however, and, in the middle of his second turn, thought proper to swim
to shore without his spar.

"'When Boxa saw what he was up to, he quietly made his way to land with
his own turn, and then went in search of the runaway, and gave him
a sound thrashing; in short, his arguments were so unanswerable and
convincing that the culprit returned to his work, and without more
ado, set to and persevered at it, till every spar that had been thrown
overboard was rafted to shore by the combined labour of the two dogs.'

"'That was certainly a very sagacious and knowing proceeding,' said your