only earn money enough to buy back dear old Tiger."

While Tom was busied with these thoughts, he heard a hasty, familiar
trot, a quick bark of joy, and the brave old dog sprang into Tom's arms.

"Tiger, old fellow," cried Tom, trying to look fierce, though he could
scarcely keep down the tears, "how came you to run away, sir?"

Tiger responded by picking up a letter he had dropped in his first joy,
and laying it in Tom's hand:--

"MY DEAR CHILD: Tiger is pining, and I must give him a change of air. I
wish him to have a good master, and knowing that the best ones are those
who have learned to govern _themselves_, I send him to you. Will you
take care of him and oblige

Your old friend, MAJOR WHITE."

Tom then read through a mist of tears--

"P.S. I know the whole story. Dear young friend, be not weary in well
doing."

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

THOSE SCARS

"What are those scars?" questioned Mary Lanman of her father as she sat
in his lap, holding his hand in her own little ones.

"Those scars, my dear? If I were to tell you the history of them, it
would make a long story."

"But do tell me, papa," said Mary, "I should like to hear a long story."

"These scars, my child, are more than forty years old. For forty years
they have every day reminded me of my disobedience to my parents and my
violation of the law of God."

"Do tell me all about it, father," pleaded Mary.

"When I was about twelve years old," he began, "my father sent me one
pleasant autumn day into the woods to cut a pole to be used in beating
apples off the trees. It was wanted immediately to fill the place of one
that had been broken.

"I took my little hatchet and hastened to the woods as I had been bidden.
I looked in every direction for a tall, slender tree that would answer
the purpose; and every time I stopped to examine a young tree, a taller
and straighter sapling caught my eye farther on.

"What seemed most surprising to me was that the little trees that looked
so trim and upright in the distance, grew deformed and crooked as I
approached them. Frequently disappointed, I was led from tree to tree,
till I had traversed the entire grove and made no choice.

"My path opened into a clearing, and near the fence stood a young cherry
tree loaded with fruit. Here was a strong temptation. I knew very well
to whom this tree belonged, and that it bore valuable fruit. I knew,
too, that I had no right to touch a single cherr