regarding the origin
of their intimacy. He varied these somewhat according to the
sensibilities of the persons to whom they were related--and there
were not many habitues of the sidewalks who did not hear them
sooner or later. "No one could disentangle fact and fiction and
affection in them.

"Some years ago," he said one day to Professor Hardage, "I was a
good deal gayer than I am now and so was he. We cemented a
friendship in a certain way, no matter what: that is a story I'm
not going to tell. And he came to live with me on that footing of
friendship. Of course he was greatly interested in the life of his
own species at that time; he loved part of it, he hated part; but
he was no friend to either. By and by he grew older. Age removed
a good deal of his vanity, and I suppose it forced him to part with
some portion of his self-esteem. But I was growing older myself
and no doubt getting physically a little helpless. I suppose I
made senile noises when I dressed and undressed, expressive of my
decorative labors. This may have been the reason; possibly not;
but at any rate about this time he conceived it his duty to give up
his friendship as an equal and to enter my employ as a servant. He
became my valet--without wages--and I changed his name to 'Brown.'

"Of course you don't think this true; well, then, don't think it
true. But you have never seen him of winter mornings get up before
I do and try to keep me out of the bath-tub. He'll station himself
at the bath-room door; and as I approach he will look at me with an
air of saying; 'Now don't climb into that cold water! Stand on the
edge of it and lap it if you wish! But don't get into it. Drink
it, man, don't wallow in it.' He waits until I finish, and then he
speaks his mind plainly again: 'Now see how wet you are! And
to-morrow you will do the same thing.' And he will stalk away,
suspicious of the grade of my intelligence.

"He helps me to dress and undress. You'd know this if you studied
his face when I struggle to brush the dust off of my back and
shoulders: the mortification, the sense of injustice done him, in
his having been made a quadruped. When I stoop over to take off my
shoes, if I do it without any noise and he lies anywhere near, very
well; but if I am noisy about it, he always comes and takes a seat
before me and assists. Then he makes his same speech: 'What a
shame that you should have to do this for yourself, when I am here
to