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man, like Uncle Morris, or your father, or my own father, by-and-by, so I go in for the right • thing, and the right thing only."

"But won't you help kill that ugly old dog? You don't mean to say it's wrong to kill a cross dog, do you?"

"No, not if I owned him, or he had no owner. I'll join you in a complaint to the teacher, or in any other right way of getting him killed."

"Walt, you are getting to be as straightlaced and as over-particular as our Guy. I'm for killing the dog anyhow. Good-by."

"Thank you for that compliment, comparing me to your Guy," said Walter.

But Hugh did not hear what he said, for he was in great haste to join Adolphus in the pine woods. Walter followed him with his eyes until he was out of sight, then seating himself in the piazza-chair he said—

"Am I really growing like Guy? I wish I was, for after all that the boys say about him, and the envy they sometimes feel, and all that I have done to spite him sometimes, he is the best boy in Duncanville. I stick to the right only sometimes, but Guy is always right. I wish I was. I think I gain some. I wish I gained faster. May He who pardons wrong and loves right forgive me my past errors, and keep me in the narrow path for evermore!"

Should Walter go on in this spirit, don't you think there is reason to hope that he will grow up into a noble manhood?


Old Kundown's Dog.

Undee the big pine, which stood like some tall giant in a small grove of pygmy pines, Hugh found a group of some dozen boys listening to a plan for catching and killing old Roger's dog, which Adolphus was setting forth. Seeing Hugh come up the speaker paused, and looking at Hugh, said—

"Glad to see you, Hugh. Where's Walt?"

"He isn't coming. He thinks it isn't right for us to kill the dog."

"That's Guy Carlton's work, I suppose. He is a regular old granny. He would make old ladies of us all, if we'd let him. There's Dick Duncan, too—he hasn't got half the spunk in him he used to have before Guy got him under his thumb—"

"There, just stop that talk against Guy, Mister Dolph," said Harry Randall, interrupting Adolphus. "He is a good fellow—the best in Duncanville, by all odds. We didn't come here to talk about him, but about that ugly dog. Let us hear your plan for killing the crittur you began to tell us about, just now."

"Pretty sharp, ain't you, Master Harry? Guess you ate pickles for dinner," replied Adolphus, in a tone of vexation at being interrupted.

"The plan! the plan!" shouted several boys at once.

"Well, my plan is to coax the cur to follow us to these woods, by throwing him bits of meat, and then stoning him to death."

"That's a cruel way, Dolph," said Harry. "I want to see the crittur killed, as much as any of you; but I don't want to be cruel to it."

"Let us poison him, then," said Donald Cameron.

"Where shall we get the poison?" asked one e the boys.

it of the apothecary," replied Donald.

"Buy it, eh? Wouldn't that be green? The apothecary would tell who bought the poison, and so we'd get found out," rejoined the boy.

"You are right, Charlie," said Hugh. "I propose that we hang him."

"Agreed!" responded Adolphus. "If you will put the rope round the cur's neck, I'll pull him up to the branch of a tree."

Hugh laughed, and a boy said, "Hugh's plan is like catching birds by putting salt on their tails."

"Or like the receipt for cooking a hare before you've caught him," said another.

"Or like the proposal of the rats to put a bell round the neck of the cat," suggested Donald, amid a roar of laughter.

When the laughing ceased, Norman Butler said: "I'll tell you the easiest way to get the cur killed. I know a fellow who calls himself a tax—taxi—taxidermer, or some such jawbreaking name—"

"Taxidermist?" suggested Hugh.

"Yes, that's it," said Norman, "a taxider mist; he—"

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