II.
HUCKLEBERRY.
Coming home late one night, my eye was caught by the sight of a spotted dog sitting under a lamp all alone, and, as I passed, I said to him,—
"Go home, little doggie! It is too late for you to be out, and you'll get rheumatism if you stay there."
Alas for the poor fellow! he had no home to go to; and, evidently feeling that I had invited him to share mine by a friendly remark, he came pattering after us down the street, and when we reached our door stood wagging his tail, as if to say,—
"Thank you; yes, I should be most grateful if you'd allow me to lie on your door-mat till morning."
His handsome, wistful eyes, and the insinuating wag of his thin tail, expressed this as plainly as any words could have done, and it grieved me much to see that I had awakened hopes which I could not fulfil.
