bitch will take if left to her own devices.  Nature has provided an infallible monitor to direct the dog the best amount to take, and when to take it.  One of the best bitches I ever possessed was one weighing fourteen pounds by the original Tony Boy (one of the best little dogs that ever lived) out of a bitch by Torrey’s Ned, by A. Goode’s Ned.  Her name was Lottie, and she had thirteen litters and raised over ninety per cent.  Those who have read that interesting little book on the “Boston Terrier,” by the late Dr. Mott, will readily recall the genial Doctor speaking of the first Boston he ever owned, named “Muggy Dee,” and how intelligent he was, and what a number of tricks the Doctor taught him, will be interested to know that Lottie was his great-grandmother, and she was equally intelligent.  We had several bitches by the celebrated Mr. Mullen’s “Boxer” out of her, (this is going back to ancient history), one of which, “Brownie,” was, to my fancy, the nicest dog we ever had.  She, with the rest of the litter, had the run of several hundred acres, and many times I did not see them for days together.  They went in and out of the hayloft at pleasure, and spent the greater part of their time hunting and digging out skunks and woodchucks which were quite thick in the woods back of us at that time.  I remember the first time Brownie was bred to that king of sires, “Buster,” owned by Alex.  Goode (than whom a more loyal Boston terrier man never lived), and I was rather anxious to see the litter when it arrived, as from the mating I expected crackerjacks.  I had not seen her or her mother for two or three days, but the time for whelping having arrived, was keeping a close watch on the stable.  About dusk she came in with Lottie, and in a short time gave birth to four of the most vigorous, perfectly formed little tots I had ever seen.  Each one proved to be good enough to show, although only one was sold to an exhibitor, Mr. G. Rawson, the rest going into private hands.  “Druid Pero” was shown in New York in 1898, taking first prize and silver cup for best in his class, but I think his brother, “Caddie,” beat him, his owner, a Boston banker, being offered a number of times ten times the sum he paid for him.

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The day after Brownie whelped she and her mother went off for an hour or so, and they finished digging out Mr. Skunk (which the attention to her maternal duties necessitated a postponement of), the old dog dragging him home in triumph.  I attribute the success these dogs, in common with the rest of the bitches in the kennels who had similar advantages, had in whelping and the rearing of their young to the fact that they always had unlimited natural exercise.  I can enumerate scores of cases similar to these attended with equally good results, if space permitted.

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