d for a moment into his great,
wise eyes, and impulsively threw his arms around his shaggy neck.

Tiger was pleased with Tom's bright face, and affectionately licked his
smooth cheeks. So the league of friendship was complete in an hour.

Tom had a pleasant, round face, and you might live with him a week, and
think him one of the noblest, most generous boys you ever knew. But some
day you would probably discover that he had a most violent temper.

You would be frightened to see his face crimson with rage, as he stamped
his feet, shook his little sister, spoke improperly to his mother, and
above all, displeased his great Father in heaven.

Now I am going to tell you of something which happened to Tom, on this
account, which he never forgot to the end of his life.

Tiger and Tom were walking down the street together one pleasant day,
when they met Dick Casey, a schoolfellow of Tom's.

[Illustration]

"O Dick!" cried Tom, "I'm going to father's grain store a little while.
Let's go up in the loft and play."

Dick had just finished his work in his mother's garden, and was ready
for a little amusement. So the two went up in the loft together, and
enjoyed themselves for a long time.

But at last one of those trifling disputes arose, in which little boys
are so apt to indulge. Pretty soon there were angry words, then (Oh, how
sorry I am to say it!) Tom's wicked passions got the mastery of him, and
he beat little Dick severely.

Tiger, who must have been ashamed of his master, pulled hard at his
coat, and whined piteously, but all in vain. At last Tom stopped, from
mere exhaustion.

"There, now!" he cried, "which is right, you or I?"

"I am," sobbed Dick, "and you tell a lie."

Tom's face became crimson, and darting upon Dick, he gave him a sudden
push. Alas! he was near to the open door. Dick screamed, threw up his
arms, and in a moment was gone.

[Illustration]

Tom's heart stood still, and an icy chill crept over him from head to
foot. At first he could not stir; then--he never knew how he got there,
but he found himself standing beside his little friend. Some men were
raising him carefully from the hard sidewalk.

"Is he dead?" almost screamed Tom.

"No," replied one, "we hope not. How did he fall out?"

"He didn't fall," groaned Tom, who never could be so mean as to tell a
lie, "I pushed him out."

"_You_ pushed him, you wicked boy," cried a rough voice. "Do you know
you ought to be sent to jail, and