le along a country road where there were
scattered houses. Miss Laura answered questions about her family, and
asked questions about Mr. Harry, who was away at college and hadn't got
home. I don't think I have said before that Mr. Harry was Mrs. Wood's
son. She was a widow with one son when she married Mr. Wood, so that
Mr. Harry, though the Morrises called him cousin, was not really their
cousin.

I was very glad to hear them say that he was soon coming home, for I had
never forgotten that but for him I should never have known Miss Laura
and gotten into my pleasant home.

By-and-by, I heard Miss Laura say: "Uncle John, have you a dog?"

"Yes, Laura," he said; "I have one to-day, but I sha'n't have one
to-morrow."

"Oh, uncle, what do you mean?" she asked.

"Well, Laura," he replied, "you know animals are pretty much like
people. There are some good ones and some bad ones. Now, this dog is a
snarling, cross-grained, cantankerous beast, and when I heard Joe was
coming, I said: 'Now we'll have a good dog about the place, and here's
an end to the bad one.' So I tied Bruno up, and to-morrow I shall shoot
him. Something's got to be done, or he'll be biting some one."

"Uncle," said Miss Laura, "people don't always die when they are bitten
by dogs, do they?"

"No, certainly not," replied Mr. Wood. "In my humble opinion there's a
great lot of nonsense talked about the poison of a dog's bite and people
dying of hydrophobia. Ever since I was born I've had dogs snap at me
and stick their teeth in my flesh; and I've never had a symptom of
hydrophobia, and never intend to have. I believe half the people that
are bitten by dogs frighten themselves into thinking they are fatally
poisoned. I was reading the other day about the policemen in a big city
in England that have to catch stray dogs, and dogs supposed to be mad,
and all kinds of dogs, and they get bitten over and over again, and
never think anything about it. But let a lady or a gentleman walking
along the street have a dog bite them, and they worry themselves till
their blood is in a fever, and they have to hurry across to France to
get Pasteur to cure them. They imagine they've got hydrophobia,
and they've got it because they imagine it. I believe if I fixed my
attention on that right thumb of mine, and thought I had a sore there,
and picked at it and worried it, in a short time a sore would come, and
I'd be off to the doctor to have it cured. At the same time dogs h