went out to ride on my Mexican pony--General Robertson--with our
boy Florentio, then Paul, and then Billy (my goat), we made quite a
procession. Paul always looked so dignified, and never noticed one of
Billy's tricks, who pranced along, butting him in the funniest way, and
trying to attract his attention.

Poor Paul's misfortunes began in Texas, where a large black dog bit him
through the shoulder, causing a lameness that has never left him, and
making him hate all black dogs.

After I went North, Paul went with my papa all over Texas, from one fort
to another, and always rode in his ambulance, which he would leave for
no one but him. At one of the upper posts he once followed a
deserter--who had fed him--and to avoid suspicion, the man put Paul down
a deep hole, and left him. After searching some time, my papa at last
found him; but he was almost starved, as he had had nothing to eat for
several days.

Paul next went with us to Omaha, where he suffered from the great change
of climate, and was too lame for much hunting. He was very jealous of
our two other dogs, Tom and Bill, and would not let them come near my
sister, brother, or me.

Then we went to Fort Steele, Wyoming, where he hunted a little, and
played with me a great deal. The high and dry air did him good. He was
very fond of my little brother George--our "Centennial baby," whose
birthday was the 22d of February. When George and I got the scarlet
fever, Paul would visit both our rooms, and look so sorry for us. After
Georgie "fell asleep," Paul would trot off every day, alone, to the
cemetery, and lie down by his "resting-place" awhile, then get up and
walk home again, his mind satisfied.

Paul has always been an "officer's dog," and never visited the barracks
at any post, and will not follow soldiers, except the one who feeds him.
He dislikes citizens, and any stranger _not_ in uniform arouses his
suspicions at once, and he watches him closely till satisfied he is a
friend of ours; but did he wear _uniform_, it would be all right at
first.

Paul is now at Fort Omaha on the "retired list," and valued for "the
good he has done." He is getting as fat as a seal, and has the gout--my
sister says the go-out. But he's a good old fellow. My grandpa takes
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE for me, and I like it so much I thought I would
like to tell you about my dog.

[Illustration: THE HOBBY-HORSE REGIMENT ON THE MARCH.]

THE HOBBY-HORSE REGIMENT.

When the T