and cruel; instead of giving me food, he gives me nothing but blows and curses, and I believe I shall run away from him, and seek me another master. That little girl has a beautiful countenance, and I expect she has a kind heart, and I think she would have compassion on a poor old hungry dog like me; I believe I’ll venture up to her, and lick her hand, and maybe she will give me a bone to gnaw on. Oh! how I wish I had a beautiful tail to wag, in order to make her pity me. I am afraid my ugliness will frighten her, and if it does, I shall be driven off, and then shall get no bone; but my poor stomach is so empty, and my mouth waters so, that I shall venture up at all hazards. If she drives me away it can’t make matters worse, and if she is kind and gives me a bone, I’ll follow her, for her sweet face leads me to think she’ll do to tie to.’
“Immediately after having the unuttered conversation with himself, old Bob ventured up and licked Lottie’s hand; the result was he got a medium supper, and found that the favorable opinion he had formed as to the kindness of her heart was by no means too extravagant. We know what followed—at least we know that Bob followed Lottie, and we further know that his fondness for rabbits led us to the gravel pit, which led us to the gravel train which carried Harry to the embankment, where he saved the life of Viola, whose father caused Mr. Rockland to give us good homes, and this proves that it is better to give a poor dog kindness than kicks. Now who knows what might have happened to us if old Bob had not trusted to Lottie’s kind face that night, or if she had taken a stick and beaten him? I dare say we should have been wandering about the streets of Memphis, friendless, houseless, and penniless; working for our daily bread, and sleeping in some filthy, sickly den, while dear Lottie would have been dressed in rags. But now, through her kindness to poor old one-eyed, tailless Bob, she has got a splendid home, good friends, fine clothes, and bright prospects unfolding themselves for the future. Who will venture to deny that old Bob was possessed of good judgment? Who will say that he did not make a good selection, when he concluded to take Lottie for his mistress and protector?
“‘Well, here we are. Ah, ha! Eddie,’ said Doctor Dodson next morning, when he met me at the door of his new drug-store. ‘I suppose you are ready for business? Ah, ha!’
“‘Yes, sir.’
“‘Good, my boy, good!’
“Then he began to instruct me as to the duties I was to perform, and teaching me the names of the various kinds of drugs. I went to work with the determination to succeed, and to please my kind-hearted employer. It was but a few months before I knew the names of all the drugs, and could make up the prescriptions with skill and safety; I was very proud to find that the doctor was pleased with me. The doctor’s wife was as kind to me as if she had been my own mother, and, all things considered, I had a happy home, and was contented.
“Harry and Lottie were delighted with their new situations; but I did not see them as often as I wished, though I went with Lottie to church occasionally, and sat in the same pew with her, and read my prayers in her book, and then mixed drugs and built air castles the remainder of the week. But I am getting tired of talking about children, and I expect my hearers are tired of it, too, and I shall therefore say but little more about it. If I have bored you with too much talk of dogs and children, I beg pardon, and promise to make a long leap over the space of seven years. They were years of happiness to me—so were they to Lottie and Harry. Lottie is eighteen, and more beautiful than ever. The large dreamy eyes are the same, but the tall, queenly form has filled out, presenting a model that an artist would delight to paint from. The stamp of intellect was sparkling on her white brow, and she was (as I thought then, and think now) the most charming girl that my eyes had ever looked upon. Harry had made rapid progress in his legal studies, and would be ready to enter on his professional career by the time he was twenty-one; while I was an overgrown, awkward young man, rather shy, and sneaky when in the presence of strangers; though I had studied closely, and Doctor Dodson said I would some day be a great physician. It was arranged that I should attend the lectures in Philadelphia, and I thought it best to have an understanding with Lottie before I left. I had never asked her to be my wife. I became jealous and unhappy because Lottie was surrounded by devoted admirers, many of whom were men of wealth and high social standing; and I was alarmed lest I should after all lose the great prize. But let us rest a while, and I’ll tell more about it in the next chapter.”
CHAPTER IX.
“Lottie had been at the Bards Town School in Kentucky for four years; but she usually spent the summer vacation at home. She graduated with the highest honors, having won the first prize in Greek, Latin and French, and triumphantly carried off the costly gold cup offered for the best original poem. There were two things combined which contributed to her success. In the first place, she possessed the active brain, and the ambition; and in the second place, she had been trained and taught much of the time by Mr. Rockland before she went to the Kentucky school. The iron lawyer would often take her into his library and make her recite lesson after lesson, when he would lecture her on the different branches of her studies. Then he would stray away into ancient and modern history, poetry and politics, spending hours in expounding them to the mind that was so able and willing to grasp the meaning. He would often make Lottie draw up bills in chancery—write pleas and declarations under his direction. Then he would explain all the legal points in some important case, and request her to look up the law and arrange his brief. It was a remarkable fact that Mr. Rockland would neglect his best paying clients in order to cram his solid ideas into Lottie’s grasping mind.
“‘Ed, she will be home to-morrow,’ said Harry Wallingford as he ran his hand under my arm and walked down the street by my side. ‘I have just received a telegram from her; she left Bards Town this morning, and is now in Louisville. Mr. Rockland is going to give a grand ball in honor of her great triumph as the champion prize-taker at Bards Town. I suppose you have heard about her wonderful victory?’
“‘Yes.’
“‘See here, old fellow, is that all you have to say in praise of this wonderful sister of mine? What is the matter with you, anyway? You look as if you wanted to murder somebody.’
“‘There is nothing wrong with me at all, and I am glad to hear of Lottie’s grand achievements,’ I replied rather dryly, because I had begun to discuss with my mind on the probabilities of losing Lottie. I knew full well that many a gallant knight would be ready to leap into the arena as a contestant for the charming prize—ready to battle to the death to win the hand and heart of the most lovely, the most beautiful and the most talented girl in Tennessee. When I weighed my chances well I was forced to the conclusion that they were too light to go into the balances against many other young men who I knew were going to enter the lists. Lottie had always manifested a partiality for me, but I was afraid that it was more a feeling of sisterly love than anything else. During our childhood days we had often talked of the feelings of true love which we had for each other; but Lottie was now a woman, and I did not want her to love me as a brother. I had no money, and but little education—was green and awkward, timid and ugly, and had no confidence in myself; but I was determined to break many a lance before a rival should carry off the great prize.
“Mr. Rockland was so deeply in love with Lottie that it amounted to idolatry, and it was generally believed, and publicly expressed, that he would settle his large fortune on her. He was extravagant in the expenditure of money for her comfort; in fact, he poured it out like water to gratify her slightest wish, though she was rather inclined to be economical and prudent. She seemed to think more of her books and music than she did of dress and display.
“‘Ed, old boy,’ exclaimed Wallingford, after a long pause, ‘did you know that I was very proud of my sister?’
“‘Yes.’
“‘Ah,
