at men's doors, he had gone to God's house, and no one had turned him away. If he had lain there all that stormy night, I think by morning he would have been safe in the little lower heaven which I am sure awaits the faithful, brave, and good among animals, when their long and often unacknowledged service is over in this world.
That mute reproach went to my heart, for now it seemed as if this small charity had been sent to me especially, and that I had neglected it till it was nearly too late. Huckleberry seemed to feel as if it was no use to appeal to human kindness any more, for he made no sign of recognition, and lay quite still, as if waiting till his dumb prayer for help was heard and answered by Him who sees the sparrow's fall.
Up the steps I went, and, putting down my parcels, patted the head that seemed almost too tired to be lifted up, and with remorseful tenderness I said,—
"My poor dear, come home with me. I truly mean it now. Forgive me, and let me show you that in charitable Boston not even a dog need starve!"
