and let me
pay you your wages."

[Illustration]

Thenceforth Old Whitey was well taken care of; and, as for Milo, he was
petted and praised to his heart's content. Cruelty to animals is an act
which no good man or child can he guilty of. I was not sorry to learn
that the man who had tried to starve Old Whitey was dismissed from his
place.

Uncle Charles.

CARLO'S BONNET.

Of course Carlo was a dog, and I'll tell you how he came to us. As my
father was walking up Arch Street, Philadelphia, one day, with his hands
clasped behind him, something cold and damp was pushed against his
fingers. He turned round quickly, and a beautiful brown-and-white
pointer came to his side, and looked up at him with such a pleading look
in his soft brown eyes, that my father said, as he patted him on the
head, "Poor fellow, are you lost?"

That was enough for Carlo, as we named him. He had found a kind master,
and my father a faithful friend. Of course it wouldn't do to keep the
dog without trying to find his owner: so the next day he was advertised;
and, for several days after, every ring at the bell would make us
children start, and feel afraid that somebody had come to take him away.
But nobody came for him; and we loved and petted our new-found treasure
to the neglect of wooden horses and dolls, and all our other toys.

Sometimes he would come to the parlor-door with his feet very wet and
muddy from running through the street-gutters. Then we would say, "O
Carlo! what dirty boots!" He would hang down his head, and go off to the
back-yard, and lick his feet until they were clean, when, with a bound,
and a wag of the tail, he would rush back to the parlor, quite sure that
he would be let in.

But the month of June was coming,--a sorrowful time for dogs; for the
city had ordered that all dogs found on the streets without muzzles on
must be destroyed. At five o'clock every morning, the wagons used to go
through the streets, and take up all dogs that were not muzzled. So we
had to get a "bonnet," as we called it, for our pet.

It was made of bright red leather, and really he looked so handsome in
it, that we thought he ought to like to wear it when he went out for a
walk; but he didn't one bit. He used to rub his head on the sidewalk,
and fuss and squirm, and, when he didn't get rid of his bonnet in that
way, the cunning fellow used to hide it when he got home.

[Illustration]

We kept it hung up on a high nail in the d