IF Bose and Fido and Sport and the rest will keep still long enough, I will tell you some things about myself which I should like you to remember.

I am growing old pretty fast, and if I had not the kindest master in the world I would stand a slim chance.

My smelling is good yet, and things taste nice enough, but my teeth are nearly gone. Bones which once would have been a luxury, now do me little good. The best I can do is to lap off a little of the meat and grease.

Yes, I can bark loud enough yet, but it vexes me terribly when I see the cattle in the field where they do not belong, or some wicked boys in the orchard stealing apples, to know that about all I can do is to bark.

I do not pretend that I have been a perfect dog, but I have had a great deal of experience in my day, and am not without the hope that you, my young friends, may profit by what I have seen and heard and felt myself, and known in the lives of others.

No, I shall not try to tell it all to-day; I have no wish to bore you with “long yarns,” as the sailors say. Besides, there would not be time before Fido might be wanted to go with his mistress across the pasture when she takes that beef tea to Willie Jones. She never seems afraid with her pet along. Bose, too, will be wanted to drive home the cows; so I will tell you only a little to-day, and more another time.

Where I was born I really do not know, but I am inclined to think it was a great way from here, perhaps in another country; we will never know, I suppose, though it seems to me it must be nice to know where one came into the world, and what kind of father and mother he had. But, dear me, I have seen some dogs, and folks too, who would have been happier if they had never known their parents!

I can just remember seeing my mother once. I think she must have been beautiful. The man who took me away from her often said in my hearing that I had her hair and eyes.

I can remember how mother cried when they carried me away. I had never seen her cry before, and though I was awfully frightened, yet I felt sorry for her.

I was petted enough, and had plenty to eat, but the journey was long, and shut up in that little box I was dreadfully lonesome.

But finally we reached home; then I had a warm bed, and a nice place; but some nights I was terribly scared there in the dark all alone. The boys had a pet donkey, and the first night I was there that fellow made his horrid bray. My! I thought I should die with fright. Well, when I had got a little used to the donkey, what should I hear in the tree over my head but a horrid “To hoo! to who?”

Yes, Sport, you may wag your tail and laugh; you know “who,” for you are a full-grown dog, and know all about the great staring owl, but with me it was a different matter.

As I remarked before, I think, my master was kind, and so was mistress, and they had no very small children to torment a little pup. Their little girl was so sweet and kind, it was always a pleasure to kiss her soft cheek; I do not believe she ever had any nice thing to eat that she did not wish to share with me.

Her brother was a noble fellow, too. Not always so thoughtful as his sister, and sometimes pretty rough; but so long as he did not mean to be ugly and hurt me, I could bear it.

The worst, I remember, was when their cousins and some of the neighbors’ children would come for the afternoon on a visit.

At first I was glad to see so many little children, but I soon found that all children had not such sweet dispositions as my master’s, or else their parents had not taught them so carefully.

We all ran and romped, and for a time it was jolly enough; but when my young master and mistress were out of sight, one of those rough boys would do something to torment me. He pulled my ears and my tail; once he boxed my ears so hard that I cried right out.

Then they put me on that donkey’s back, and while I was held there, the creature made one of those dreadful noises! Then I cried so loud my little mistress came and took me away.

Once I was so frightened by those rude children that I hid under the barn. I could hear them call my name and whistle for me, but I did not mean to come out till the children had gone.

It seemed a long time, but they finally went—I mean the visitors—and then I was only too ready to get out, for it was growing pretty dark where I was.

We were all very much frightened, but when master came home he took a big iron bar and pried a stone out, and made a hole big enough for me to crawl through as easy as need be.

I cannot make myself believe that those children remembered with pleasure what they had done to me that day. They never looked sweet and happy like little Lucy and her brother.

I long ago came to the conclusion that if one would be happy he must try to make others so; and I do not believe it makes much difference whether he walks upon two legs or four.

Another thing, I believe one’s usefulness depends very much upon whether he keeps his eyes open or not. Why, one does not need to be a full-grown dog to be able to make himself useful, and so thought a great deal of.

Take my case, for example: As I was saying, even when I was quite small the hired man used to take me when he went after the cows at night.

I suppose this was to give me the pleasure of a run in the pasture; they took old Sport along to do the work of driving. He, poor fellow, was getting pretty old, and could not run fast; but he was a good dog, and was well educated.

I did not at first understand how he could know so much—how he could tell the oxen from the cows, and the cows from the steers; and when there were other cattle mixed up with our master’s, on the road or anywhere, how he could know which ones to drive in, and which to leave or drive away.

One day as we were waiting for the hired man to fix a little place in the fence, Sport said something that astonished me greatly.

I think I had been saying how I wished I knew as much as he, and could do what he did. Then he gave me this hint. Said he, “I think our good master is planning to have you take my place in a few months. Soon I shall not be able to do the work, and if you watch out you will be able to do all that I have done. Even now,” said he, “you are beginning to save me a great many steps by starting up the cattle which are lagging behind, or that get out of the way.”

I shall never forget how pleased I was. I almost felt like another dog, and was so glad to think that I could do anything worth any one’s notice. I feel sure it was a great help to me to have him speak like that, and cannot but think that a great many others might be encouraged in the same way.

Proud little puppy that I was, I almost split my throat barking at the cattle that afternoon, and was much pleased to see that I could help.

Well, it was not many weeks after that, when one day the hired man went off fishing, and the master was all alone at home. It was late in the afternoon, and he was resting upon the front steps, looking very tired, for he was not well. I remember I had been wishing for the time to come when I could do something, and would be big enough to watch things. You see the fishing party had taken Sport with them to watch the wagon. I was thought too young to be taken off so far.

I had felt pretty sober all the morning, but the master had spoken very kindly to me several times, and while sitting there had called me to him and patted my head, and called me a nice little fellow. Finally he looked up from the paper he had been reading and said, “Well, Major, it is about time to go for the cows.”

“Now is your chance,” I said to myself, and off over the big stone wall I went. About the only thing I feared was that he would call me back, but he seemed too much surprised for that; so I ran away as fast as my four feet could carry me.

I did not know so well then where to look for the cows, but scampered around so fast that I soon caught sight of them and quickly had the whole lot on their way to the yard.

My only mistake was in doing my job too well, for I drove up the oxen and steers and yearlings as well as the cows.

When I had them all near the gate then I barked as hard as I could, and the master came and let down the bars, and drove in the cows and let the others go back.

Then I remembered how it was generally done, and felt much ashamed of my blunder. But master called me to him and petted me, and told me I had been a good fellow. Then late in the evening, when the others came home, he told them how I had surprised him by driving up the cows, and never said a word about my mistake in driving up the other cattle. I think that was so kind of him! I know a great many who would have been either so thoughtless or unkind as to have made fun of a youngster’s little blunder when trying to do his best. But he was not that kind of a man. You may be sure I never made that mistake again.

Then old Sport came over to my kennel, and congratulated me heartily on driving up the cows. All I could do was to thank him, and tell him it was because of the way he had encouraged me, helping me to think I might do something.

There have been many changes in farming since I can remember, but the cows have to be got and milked just as ever, only there seem to be more of them, and so I must not keep you any longer this time.

R.