med appearance, which in
the city elicits commendation, but which leads the average countryman to
say "dude" to himself and near friends when talking about him.

Quincy was no dude; he had been prominent in all college athletic games;
he had been a member of the 'varsity eight in one of its contests with
Yale, and had won a game for Harvard with Yale at base ball by making a
home run in the tenth inning on a tied score. He was a good musician and
fine singer. In addition he was a graceful dancer, and had taken lessons
in boxing, until his feather-weight teacher suggested that he had better
find a heavy-weight instructor to practise on.

Quincy was in his twenty-third year. He had been in love a dozen times,
but, as he expressed it, had been saved from matrimony by getting
acquainted with a prettier girl just as he was on the point of popping
the question.

But we left him walking along on his way to Eastborough Centre. Deacon
Mason had told him Uncle Ike's house was away from the road, some
hundred feet back, and that he could not mistake it, as he could see the
chicken coop from the road. He finally reached it after traversing about
a mile and a half, it being another mile and a half to Eastborough
Centre.

He found the path that led to the house. As he neared the steps a huge
dog arose from a reclining posture and faced him, not in an ugly mood,
but with an expression that seemed to-say, "An introduction will be
necessary before you come any farther." The dog seemed to understand
that it was his duty to bring about the necessary introduction, so he
gave a series of loud barks. The door was quickly opened and Uncle Ike
stood in the doorway.

"Do I address Mr. Isaac Pettengill?" asked Quincy.

Uncle Ike replied, "That's what they write on my letters."

Quincy continued, "My name is Quincy Adams Sawyer. I am the only son of
the Hon. Nathaniel Sawyer of Boston, and I bear a letter of introduction
from him to you."

Quincy took the letter from his pocket and held it in his hand. The dog
made a quick movement forward and before Quincy could divine his object,
he took the letter in his mouth and took it to Uncle Ike, and,
returning, faced Quincy again.

Uncle Ike read the letter slowly and carefully; then he turned to Quincy
and said, "If you will talk about birds, fish, dogs, and chickens, you
are welcome, and I shall be glad to see you now or any time. If you talk
about lawsuits or religion I shall be sorry that