“Our calendar,” remarked Jack, “appears simple enough; it is to be regretted that there have been, and are, so many other modes of reckoning extant.  What with the Greek Olympiads, the Roman lustres, the Mahometan hegira, and Chinese moonshine, there is nothing but perplexity and confusion.”

“It is possible, however,” said Becker, “to accommodate all these systems with each other.  Leaving the Chinese out of the question, we have only to bear in mind, that the Christian era begins on the first year of the 194th Olympiad, 753 years after the building of Rome, and 622 years before the Mahometan hegira.  These three figures will serve us as flambeaux to all the dates of both ancient and modern history.”

The discourse was here interrupted by Toby, who entered the room, and was gleefully frisking and bounding round Mary.

“Really,” observed Mrs. Becker, “Toby does seem to know that this is New Year’s Day, he looks so lively and so smart.”

The animal, in point of fact, wore a new collar, and seemed conscious that he was more than usually attractive that particular morning.  At a sign from Mary, the intelligent brute went and wagged his tail to Fritz.  Hereupon the young man, observing the collar more closely, noticed the following words embroidered upon it:  I belong now entirely to Master Fritz, who rescued my mistress from the sea.

“Ah, Miss Wolston,” said Fritz, “you forget I only did my duty; you must not allow your gratitude to over-estimate the service I rendered you.”

“Well, I declare,” cried Mrs. Wolston, laughing “here is another animal that speaks.”

“The age of Aesop revived,” suggested Mrs. Becker.

“What do you say, Master Jack?” inquired Mrs. Wolston.  “Do you suppose that Toby has learned embroidery in the same way that the parrot learned grammar?”

“Oh, more astonishing things than that have happened!  Mr. Wolston there will tell you that he has seen a wooden figure playing at chess; why, therefore, should the most sagacious of all the brutes not learn knitting?”

“I fear, in speaking so highly of the dog,” replied Mrs. Wolston, “you are doing injustice to other animals.  Marvellous instances of sagacity, gratitude, and affection, have been shown by other brutes beside the dog.  A horse of Caligula’s was elevated to the dignified office of consul.”

“Yes, and talking of the affection of animals,” observed Ernest, “puts me in mind of an anecdote related by Aulus Gellius.  It seems that a little boy, the son of a fisher man, who had to go from Baiae to his school at Puzzoli, used to stop at the same hour each day on the brink of the Lucrine lake.  Here he often threw a bit of his breakfast to a Dolphin that he called Simon, and if the creature was not waiting for him when he arrived, he had only to pronounce this name, and it instantly appeared.”

“Nothing very wonderful in that,” said Jack; “the common gudgeon, which is the stupidest fish to be found in fresh water, would do that much.”