Happy is he who gets into trouble by necromancy, who can get out of it by the same.  The devil rarely bolts and unbolts his door for his own guests.  He is not wont to say, ‘Walk in, my friend,’ and afterward, ‘Good-by.’  But it so turned out in the case of Sid Norman, because he had not been knowingly bewitched; and Mrs. Amina Ghoul Sid Norman learned to respect the motto, Cave canem!

While his canine sufferings lasted, he fell in with various masters, and nosed about to see if he could substitute reason for instinct, and get established on two legs again.  He looked up wistfully into the faces of passers-by, as if to say, ’I am not a dog, but the man for whom a large reward has been offered.’  On one occasion, seeing Amina come from a shop where she had just purchased a Cashmere shawl of great size and value, he set his teeth like a steel trap, and made a grab at her ankles.  But she recognized him on all fours, with a diabolical grin, and fetching him a kick with her little foot, caused him to yelp most pitifully.  Running under a little cart which stood in the way, he skinned his teeth, and growled to himself, ’By the prophet, but I can almost love her again; she distinguished herself by that kick, which was aimed with infinite tact; it went right to the spot, and struck me like a discharge from a catapult, drove all the wind out of me, and left an absolute vacuum, as if a stomach-pump had sucked me out.  Yap—­yow—­eaow—­yeaow—­yap—­snif—­xquiz;’ and, after a good deal of panting and distress, he at last yawned so wide as nearly to dislocate his jaws, sneezed once or twice, and then trotted off on three legs, with his half a tail tucked up underneath, and lay down disconsolate in an ash-hole.

‘Oh, how distressing it is,’ said he, ’to be bewitched by a bad woman!  It metamorphoses one entirely.  He loses all semblance to his former self, parts with all his reason, no more walks upright, and bids philosophy adieu.  One drop from the cup of her incantations, and the gossamer net-work which she threw about him is changed into prisonbars, her silken chain into links of forged iron; strong will is dwindled, and he who on some ‘heaven-kissing hill’ stood up to gaze upon the stars, is fit to grovel in a sty.—­Miserable dog!  Bow-wow, bow-wow!’

One day, as the story proceeds, Sid’s master was offered a base coin in his shop, when this ‘learned dog’ at once put his foot upon it, and in fact put his foot in the bargain.

‘Ah, indeed!’ said a Bagdad lady, who stood by; ’that’s no dog, or, if he is, the Caliph ought to have him.’  So, snapping her fingers slyly as she went out, he followed her.

‘Daughter,’ said she to the fair Xarifa, who was working embroidery, ’I have brought the baker’s famous dog that can distinguish money.  There is some sorcery about it.—­You have once walked on two legs,’ said she, looking down upon the fawning animal, ’have you not?  If so, wag your tail.’