eds neat, feeding the pets, and running
errands, to waiting on Thorny and being right-hand man to Miss Celia. He
had a little room in the old house, newly papered with hunting scenes,
which he was never tired of admiring. In the closet hung several
out-grown suits of Thorny's, made over for his valet; and, what Ben
valued infinitely more, a pair of boots, well blacked and ready for
grand occasions, when he rode abroad, with one old spur, found in the
attic, brightened up and merely worn for show, since nothing would have
induced him to prick beloved Lita with it.

Many pictures, cut from illustrated papers, of races, animals, and
birds, were stuck round the room, giving it rather the air of a circus
and menagerie. This, however, made it only the more home-like to its
present owner, who felt exceedingly rich and respectable as he surveyed
his premises; almost like a retired showman who still fondly remembers
past successes, though now happy in the more private walks of life.

In one drawer of the quaint little bureau which he used, were kept the
relics of his father; very few and poor, and of no interest to any one
but himself,--only the letter telling of his death, a worn-out
watch-chain, and a photograph of Senor Jose Montebello, with his
youthful son standing on his head, both airily attired, and both smiling
with the calmly superior expression which gentlemen of their profession
usually wear in public. Ben's other treasures had been stolen with his
bundle; but these he cherished and often looked at when he went to bed,
wondering what heaven was like, since it was lovelier than California,
and usually fell asleep with a dreamy impression that it must be
something like America when Columbus found it,--"a pleasant land,
where were gay flowers and tall trees, with leaves and fruit such as
they had never seen before." And through this happy hunting-ground
"father" was for ever riding on a beautiful white horse with wings, like
the one of which Miss Celia had a picture.

Nice times Ben had in his little room poring over his books, for he soon
had several of his own; but his favorites were Hamerton's "Animals" and
"Our Dumb Friends," both full of interesting pictures and anecdotes such
as boys love. Still nicer times working about the house, helping get
things in order; and best of all were the daily drives with Miss Celia
and Thorny, when weather permitted, or solitary rides to town through
the heaviest rain, for certain