On Wednesday morning . . . the following circumstance occurred: — A tin box, upwards of four feet in length, of a coffin shape, was observed floating down the river, between the Wooden and Old Bridges. In a few minutes after it was first observed, several thousands assembled on each side of the river, and on the Old Bridge, anxious to know its contents. . . . On arriving near the Old Bridge, some boys determined on unfolding the mystery, and after making their way to the middle of the river, the tin box, which turned out to be a real coffin, soldered air tight, was soon dragged ashore, and the occupant discovered itself in the shape of a huge Newfoundland dog, lying on a bed of straw. The first impression was, that the whole was a hoax got up for the purpose of making the rabble stare. But no such thing. The circumstance of the dog's name and age being inscribed on the coffin lid, and also a moderate-sized loaf deposited inside, plainly showed that the coffining and interment proceeded from pure respect and affection on the part of the master towards the departed. We have since learned that the dog was the property of a shopkeeper; that the favourite animal had been pining under disease for some months past; and that it was not without regret that his master consented he should be shot on Monday last. The interment took place with all due solemnity on Tuesday morning. The river, in which he had so often exhibited his swimming powers, was chosen as the most appropriate place for his grave. His master, after in vain attempting to sink the well-soldered coffin, at last accomplished his purpose by fastening a stone to it. The rope, it seems, had given way about 24 hours afterwards, and cause the concourse and conjectures which we have just alluded to. — Greenock Advertiser