for that." I remained for two or three hours, watching for
him, but it was all in vain; there was no seal--no Nero. My heart sank
at the idea of the animal having deserted me, and for the first time in
my life, as far as I can recollect, I burst into a flood of tears. For
the first time in my life, I may say, I felt truly miserable--my whole
heart and affections were set upon this animal, the companion and friend
of my solitude, and I felt as if existence were a burden without him.
After a while, I retraced my steps to the cabin; but I was miserable,
more so than I can express. I could not rest quiet. Two hours before
sunset, I went down again to the rocks, and called till I was hoarse.
It was all in vain; night closed in, and again I returned to the cabin,
and threw myself down in my bed-place in utter despair.

"I thought he loved me," said I to myself, "loved me as I loved him; I
would not have left him in that way." And my tears burst out anew at
the idea that I never should see my poor Nero again.

The reader may think that my grief was inordinate and unwarrantable; but
let him put himself in my position--a lad of sixteen, alone on a
desolate island, with only one companion--true, he was an animal, and
could not speak, but he was affectionate; he replied to all my caresses;
he was my only companion and friend, the only object--that I loved or
cared about. He was intelligent, and I thought loved me as much as I
loved him; and now he had deserted me, and I had nothing else that I
cared about or that cared for me. My tears flowed for more than an
hour, till at last I was wearied and fell asleep.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

It was early in the morning, and yet dark, when I felt something touch
me. I started up--a low cry of pleasure told me at once it was Nero,
who was by my side. Yes, it was Nero, who had come back, having climbed
up again the steep path to the cabin, to return to his master. Need I
say that I was overjoyed, that I hugged him as if he had been a human
being, that I wept over him, and that in a few minutes afterwards we
were asleep together in the same bed-place? Such was the fact, and
never was there in my after-life so great a transition from grief to
joy.

"Oh! Now, if you had left me,"--said I to him, the next morning, when I
got up; "you naughty seal, to frighten me and make me so unhappy as you
did!" Nero appeared quite as happy as I was at our re-union, and was
more affectionate t