THE TRUE STORY OF ONE OF QUEEN VICTORIA'S DOGS.

BY KATHARINE DE FOREST.

This is the way I came to hear the story: One summer afternoon, two or three years ago, I was sitting in front of a hotel in a Normandy watering-place, watching for the diligence to come from Fécamp. At last it appeared in the distance. And then began my surprise. For when I had first caught sight of the figures in the imperial there had seemed something familiar about them, and as they came nearer and I could see the faces, they looked so much like some faces I knew that I could hardly believe my eyes. It was—but no, it could not be—yes, it was; it was the MacAlpines! There were Mr. and Mrs. MacAlpine getting out from inside the diligence, and there were Janie and Isa and Fédie, Tom and Alec and the maid, climbing down from the top, with, in Janie's arms, the dearest little dog—the dearest little blue Skye terrier—you ever saw.

"And who is this?" I said at last, looking at the little dog that Janie still held in her arms, while Mrs. MacAlpine was talking to Madame Ernestine, the landlady of the hotel, about rooms, and Mr. MacAlpine was watching the men take down the luggage, and counting the different pieces. "This is a new member of the family. I thought you said you never would take a dog about with you, Mr. MacAlpine."

"And so I did," said Mr. MacAlpine. "But this isn't an every-day dog. This is a family dog, and a dog of high degree. Almost anybody would be glad to take her about."

"This is the Queen's dog," said Alec, giving her a pat, "or it used to be."

"Has it ever been to court?" I asked.

"Yes, indeed, she has!" said Janie. "Haven't you, Lassie darling? She's done all sorts of wonderful things, Aunt Katharine." (I was not really the children's aunt. They only called me so because we loved each other so much.) "She doesn't look like other dogs. She's much prettier."

"Yes, and more clever," put in Tom.

"She's certainly a very wonderful little dog," said Mrs. MacAlpine, who had finished arranging about the rooms. "And of all the strange stories you ever heard, Aunt Katharine, hers is the strangest. We'll tell you all about it when we've been upstairs and got a little of this dust off. What are you going to do this afternoon? Can't we have tea together by-and-by when we're clean and rested?"

"Oh, my cake!" I called out, suddenly remembering it. "My beautiful Paris cake! I must go and get it. We'll have our tea in the cabin on the beach, and Tom and Alec shall carry down the tea-things. We'll meet at the front door of the hotel at four o'clock;" and off I ran to get my parcels.

At four o'clock we went down in procession to the beach, and settled ourselves in front of our bathing-cabin.

And then Mr. MacAlpine began the story: "Once upon a time I lived with my father and mother and brothers and sisters in the beautiful islands called the Hebrides. The Hebrides, you know, are islands off the coast of Scotland, and they are noted for their wild and romantic scenery. But scenery, I am sorry to say, was something that I didn't much appreciate when I was a boy, and I would have given the whole of it for some boys of my own age to play with. My brothers were all older and my sisters younger than I, so I had to get my lessons and go to the manse to recite them by myself; and very lonely work it was too, until one day my father brought me home a blue Skye terrier, Lassie, just like this little dog here.

"From the first moment I saw her I loved her almost better than anything in the world. She was so little that I could take her about with me everywhere I went, tucked away in my plaid when we climbed the rocks and went long distances, and she always sat by me when I did my lessons, and I spent all my spare time playing with her and teaching her tricks. She could beg, and play dead, and wink one eye, and sneeze, and do more things than I ever heard of a dog's doing before or since, and she could understand everything I said to her exactly like a person, and altogether I was perfectly happy with her up to the time Lady Jane came to see us.

"Lady Jane was a cousin of my father's who was one of the Queen's ladies-in-waiting, and a very grand lady she was, indeed. She always came with so many boxes and bundles that we boys had a sort of feeling it would be polite for us to move out and give the house to her, and she also made us feel that everything she said must be obeyed, because she represented the Queen, and we had been brought up to be very good and loyal subjects. So you can imagine how I felt one day when she said to me: 'Tom, I'm going to take your little dog back with me as a present for her Majesty. You've trained her so nicely, and you won't care, will you? I'll send you something else in its place.'

"My very heart stood still at these words. Lady Jane had a way of having her own way if she wanted it, and none of us could stand out against her, and so I went to my mother about it. 'She wouldn't take Lassie, would she, mother?' I said, looking into her eyes to try to read there what she thought. And my mother said of course not, and comforted me, and I went off for a long walk and tried to think no more about it. But I couldn't help but feel uneasy, and after that I kept my dog out of the way as much as possible until in a little while Lady Jane seemed to have forgotten her. She was away nearly all the time—on excursions or visiting at the great houses in the neighborhood—so that we children seldom saw her, and by-and-by the last evening of her stay came.

"There were fine doings at our house that night. I can see the big hall now with a roaring fire in the chimney-place at one end, throwing its light over the deer-heads and odd birds and trophies with which the walls were hung. And the Highlanders came up with their bagpipes and played for us all to dance Sir Roger de Coverley up and down the polished floor, and Lady Jane and my father danced a jig, and my sisters sang, and I put Lassie through her tricks, and made her perform the celebrated double somerset, which was the last trick I had taught her. Everybody laughed, Lady Jane the most of all, and then she kissed us children good-night and bade us good-by, and I went up stairs happy. For Lady Jane would be gone in the morning; her trunks were strapped and in the front hall now, and I went to sleep with Lassie curled up by me, and a lighter heart than I had since the day when she first spoke to me about the dog.

"It seemed to me I had only slept a moment when I began to dream of icebergs, and then I was waked up suddenly by some one's pulling all the bedclothes off from me. Then a hand snatched up Lassie, and before I could realize what was happening Lady Jane's voice, very fresh and wide-awake, said: 'Now, Tom, don't feel badly, but you know I must have Lassie, and I've come after her. I'll send you something nice in her place, my boy,' and before I could say a word she was out of the door and my little dog was gone.

"There was no time for thinking. Like a flash I was out of bed and into my clothes and rushing along the road to the pier where Lady Jane's boat lay, trying to keep back the big tears as I went. But it was too late. Just as I came up to the landing the boat sailed slowly out of the harbor, and there in the stern was Lady Jane standing, waving her handkerchief to the people on the shore, and under one arm I could see a little shaggy head and a pair of bright eyes that seemed to look at me with a sad farewell look, and my little dog went sailing away on the unknown sea, and I burst into tears with my heart breaking, for I never expected to see her again."

"And did you?" I asked, eagerly. "Is this dog—"

"Ah, that's the strange part of the story," said Mr. MacAlpine. "Janie is the one who can tell that. Janie, tell Aunt Katharine the rest."

Janie's rosy Scotch face dimpled, and smiling up at her father, she went on:

"Well, you know that was always our favorite story, about when papa was a little boy in the Hebrides, and about the little dog he lost, but we always wanted to hear the end of it. We wanted to know what became of Lassie after Lady Jane took her, and if the Queen liked her, and if she did her tricks; but Lady Jane died soon after she went back to Balmoral, and papa's father went to Canada and took papa with him, and so we could only guess about Lassie, and make papa make up what happened to her.

"And then one time mamma and Isa and Fédie and I were going home from England, and mamma and the maid were so seasick they had to stay down in the cabin, but we children sat in steamer chairs on the deck, so miserable, and with nothing to do to amuse ourselves. And then a little bit of a dog that belonged to the lady sitting in a chair next ours jumped down from her lap and came over and stood in front of us, and stood up on her hind legs and began to sneeze. We all began to laugh, and then we said how exactly she was like papa's little dog that he used to tell us about, and she used to sneeze too, and they were the only dogs we had ever heard of that did. And then we said we wished we knew what the dog's name was, and the lady it belonged to said it was Lassie, and then we couldn't help but cry out,'Oh, how strange!' Then the lady asked us what was strange, and we told her about our Lassie, and she told us about her Lassie, and we found out that hers was the granddaughter of ours. And this lady, who had been one of the Queen's ladies-in-waiting herself, could remember when Lady Jane brought Lassie there.

"The Queen had liked papa's little dog, and had always kept her, and when her maid of honor left England for Canada her Majesty had given her one of Lassie's puppies to take with her.

"Before the ship reached Quebec we all got to be great friends, and just the last day out the lady called me to her, and said, 'My dear, I'm going to make you a present of this little dog if you'll take her. My maid doesn't like dogs, and I'm not strong enough myself to take care of her. And it was Lady Jane that carried your father's Lassie away, and it shall be Janie that brings her back.'"

"Yes, because the oldest girl in the MacAlpine family is always named Jane," put in Tom.

"And then when papa came down to the wharf to meet them," said Alec, "there was Janie standing on the ship and waving to him, and under her arm was a bundle and a pair of bright eyes, and there was Lassie come sailing back when he was a grown-up man."