ctures were some advertisements. One was for a farm for
sale. Jonas read the description, and he wished that he was old enough
to buy a farm, and then he would go and look at that.

The next advertisement was about some machinery, which a man had
invented; and the next was headed, in large letters, _Dog Lost._ This
caught Jonas's attention immediately. It was in writing, and he could
not read it very easily, it was so high. So he got a chair, and stood up
in it, and read as follows:--

"'DOG LOST.

"'_Strayed or stolen from the subscriber, a valuable dog, of large size
and black color_.'

"I wonder if it isn't Franco," said Jonas, interrupting himself in his
reading.

"'_He had on a brass collar marked with the owner's name_.'

"No," said Jonas, "there was no collar. But then the man that stole him
might have taken it off.

"'_Answers to the name of Ney_.'

"Ney, Ney," said Jonas,--"I never called him Ney. I wonder if he would
answer, if I should call him Ney.

"'_Is kind and docile, and quite intelligent_.'

"Yes," said Jonas, "I verily believe it is Franco.

"'_Any person who will return said dog to the subscriber, at his
residence at Walton Plain, shall be suitably rewarded_.

"'JAMES EDWARDS.'

"I verily believe it is Franco," said Jonas, as he slowly got down from
the chair,--"Walton Plain."

He stood a moment, looking thoughtfully into the fire.

"Yes," he repeated, "I verily believe it is Franco. I wonder where
Walton Plain is."

Jonas had learned from Mr. Holiday, that it was never wise to
communicate important information relating to private business, unless
necessary. So he said nothing about Franco to any of the people at the
tavern, but quietly went to bed; and, after thinking some time what to
do, he went to sleep, and slept finely until morning.

About daylight, he arose, and, as he had paid his bill the night before,
he went to the barn, harnessed his horses, and set off. At the first
village that he came to after sunrise, he stopped at a store, and
inquired whether there was any such town as Walton Plain, in that
neighborhood.

"Yes," said the boy, who stood with a broom in his hand, with which he
was sweeping out the store,--"yes, it is about five miles from here,
right on the way you are going."

Jonas thanked the boy, got into his sleigh, and rode on.

"Poor Franco," said he, "I am afraid I must lose you."

He had hoped that Walton Plain would have proved to be off of his r