m as he
grew older, till hardly anything but the sight of a gun or a bone would
move him. He lost his interest in politics, and, though there is no
reason to suppose that he ever became indifferent to his principles, it
is certain that he no longer showed his early ardor. He joined the
Free-Soil movement in 1848, and supported Van Buren and Adams, but
without the zeal he had shown for Henry Clay. Once a year, as long as
the family lived in the Boy's Town, the children were anxious about Tip
when the dog-law was put in force, and the constables went round
shooting all the dogs that were found running at large without muzzles.
At this time, when Tip was in danger of going mad and biting people, he
showed a most unseasonable activity, and could hardly be kept in bounds.
A dog whose sole delight at other moments was to bask in the summer sun,
or dream by the winter fire, would now rouse himself to an interest in
everything that was going on in the dangerous world, and make forays
into it at all unguarded points. The only thing to do was to muzzle him,
and this was done by my boy's brother with a piece of heavy twine, in
such a manner as to interfere with Tip's happiness as little as
possible. It was a muzzle that need not be removed for either eating,
drinking, or fighting; but it satisfied the law, and Tip always came
safely through the dog-days, perhaps by favor or affection with the
officers who were so inexorable with some dogs.

While Tip was still in his prime the family of children was further
enriched by the possession of a goat; but this did not belong to the
whole family, or it was, at least nominally, the property of that eldest
brother they all looked up to. I do not know how they came by the goat,
any more than I know how they came by Tip; I only know that there came a
time when it was already in the family, and that before it was got rid
of it was a presence there was no mistaking. Nobody who has not kept a
goat can have any notion of how many different kinds of mischief a goat
can get into, without seeming to try, either, but merely by following
the impulses of its own goatishness. This one was a nanny-goat, and it
answered to the name of Nanny with an intelligence that was otherwise
wholly employed in making trouble. It went up and down stairs, from
cellar to garret, and in and out of all the rooms, like anybody, with a
faint, cynical indifference in the glance of its cold gray eyes that
gave no hint of its