ssible," he said, "that this well-conditioned creature is the
bundle of dirty skin and bones that we nursed in Fairport? Come here,
sir. Do you remember me?"

Indeed I did remember him, and I licked his hands and looked up
gratefully into his face. "You're almost handsome now," he said,
caressing me with a firm, kind hand, "and of a solid build, too. You
look like a fighter--but I suppose you wouldn't let him fight, even if
he wanted to, Laura," and he smiled and glanced at her.

"No," she said; "I don't think I should; but he can fight when the
occasion requires it." And she told him about our night with Jenkins.

All the time she was speaking, Mr. Harry held me by the paws, and
stroked my body over and over again. When she finished, he put his head
down to me, and murmured, "Good dog," and I saw that his eyes were red
and shining.

"That's a capital story, we must have it at the Band of Mercy," said Mr.
Maxwell. Mrs. Wood had gone to help prepare the tea, so the two young
men were alone with Miss Laura. When they had done talking about me, she
asked Mr. Harry a number of questions about his college life, and his
trip to New York, for he had not been studying all the time that he was
away.

"What are you going to do with yourself, Gray, when your college course
is ended?" asked Mr. Maxwell.

"I am going to settle right down here," said Mr. Harry.

"What, be a farmer?" asked his friend.

"Yes; why not?"

"Nothing, only I imagined that you would take a profession."

"The professions are overstocked, and we have not farmers enough for the
good of the country. There is nothing like farming, to my mind. In no
other employment have you a surer living. I do not like the cities. The
heat and dust, and crowds of people, and buildings overtopping one
another, and the rush of living, take my breath away. Suppose I did go
to a city. I would sell out my share of the farm, and have a few
thousand dollars. You know I am not an intellectual giant. I would never
distinguish myself in any profession. I would be a poor lawyer or
doctor, living in a back street all the days of my life, and never watch
a tree or flower grow, or tend an animal, or have a drive unless I paid
for it. No, thank you. I agree with President Eliot, of Harvard. He says
scarcely one person in ten thousand betters himself permanently by
leaving his rural home and settling in a city. If one is a millionaire,
city life is agreeable enough, for one can alwa