ay down now, and his pinched body rounded out till I began to fear
obesity, while his tail took on a handsome curl. Altogether, I was
rather proud of him. But the result of my crude attempt at surgery
became manifest when I finally removed the splints. The limb had grown
together, it is true, but it was dreadfully crooked, and a large knot
appeared where the fracture had been. When he tried to walk, I
discovered that this leg was a trifle shorter than its mate, and poor
Fido limped a little, but I believe this only added to my affection.

Winter held on till March, and then reluctantly gave way before the
approach of spring. The wind blew; the sun shone at intervals; the ice
began to melt, and muddy rivulets formed in the streets. When the ground
dried up a little, I began my afternoon walks, Fido limping cheerfully
along beside me. One day my commiseration for his affliction almost
vanished. We had strolled away out past the streets, and had been
walking along a pike, when the refreshing green of a clover meadow on my
left caused me to climb the fence and seek a closer acquaintance. Fido
wriggled through a crack at the bottom, and as I sat on the top rail for
a moment, the little rascal suddenly gave tongue and shot out across the
meadow after a young rabbit, which was making good time through the low
clover. That lame leg didn't impede my yellow pup's running qualities,
and I had to call him severely by name before he gave up the chase. He
came panting back to me with his dripping tongue hanging out, and with
as innocent a look on his face as one could imagine. I felt that he
needed a gentle chastising, but there was nothing lying around wherewith
to administer it, and I did not search for the necessary switch. But I
wasted no more sympathy on that crooked right leg.

I became interested in the view before me, and forgot that time was
passing. The clover meadow stretched away to a low bluff, at the base of
which I could see the shining surface of a small stream. Far to my right
a field was being broken up for corn. The fresh scent of the newly
turned earth came to my nostrils like perfume. On the farther side of
the field a patient mule was plodding along, dragging his burden, a
plough, behind him, and I heard the guiding cries of the driver as he
spoke in no gentle voice to the animal which was wearing its life away
for its master's gain. A meadow lark arose a little to one side. I
noticed his yellow vest, sprinkled