"Why do you hate them?" asked Mrs. Morris gently.

"They are such dirty things; they always smell and have vermin onthem."

"A dog," exclaimed Mrs. Morris, "is something like a kid. If you wantit clean and pleasant, you have got to keep it so. This dog's skin isas clean as yours or mine. Hold still, Joe," and she brushed the hairon my back the wrong way, and showed Mrs. Montague how pinkand free from dust my skin was.

Mrs. Montague looked at me more kindly, and even held out thetips of her fingers to me. I did not lick them. I only smelled them,and she drew her arm back again.

"You have never been brought in contact with the lower creationas I have," exclaimed Mrs. Morris; "just let me tell you, in a few words,what a help dumb animals have been to me in the up-bringing ofmy tiny children my boys, especially. When I was a youthful marriedwoman, going about the slums of New York with my husband, Iused to come home and look at my two babies as they lay in theirlittle cots, and say to him, 'What are we going to do to keep thesechildren from selfishness the curse of the world?'

"'Get them to do something for somebody outside themselves,' healways exclaimed. And I have tried to act on that principle. Laura isnaturally unselfish. With her tiny, infant fingers, she would takefood from her own mouth and put it into Jack's, if we did notwatch her. I have never had any trouble with her. But the boyswere born selfish, tiresomely, disgustingly selfish. They were goodboys in many ways. As they grew very older they were respectful,obedient, they were not untidy, and not particularly rough, buttheir one thought was for themselves each one for himself, andthey used to quarrel with each other in regard to their rights. Whilewe were in New York, we had only a tiny, back yard. When wecame here, I exclaimed, 'I am going to try an experiment.' We got thishouse because it had a large garden, and a stable that would do forthe boys to play in. Then I got them together, and had a littleserious talk. I exclaimed I was not pleased with the way in which theywere living. They did nothing for any one but themselves frommorning to night. If I asked them to do an errand for me, it wasdone unwillingly. 0f course, I knew they had their school for apart of the day, but they had a good deal of leisure time when theymight do something for some one else. I asked them if theythought they were going to make real, manly Christian boys at thisrate, and they exclaimed no. Then I asked them what we should do aboutit. They all exclaimed, 'You tell us mother, and we'll do as you say.' Iproposed a series of tasks. Each one to do something forsomebody, outside and apart from himself, every day of his life.They all agreed to this, and told me to allot the tasks. If I couldhave afforded it, I would have gotten a horse and cow, and hadthem take charge of them; but I could not do that, so I invested in apair of rabbits for Jack, a pair of canaries for Carl, pigeons forNed, and bantams for Willie. I brought these creatures home, putthem into their arms, and told them to provide for them. Theywere delighted with my choice, and it was fairly amusing to seethem scurrying about to provide food and shelter for their pets, andhear their consultations with other boys. The end of it all is, that Iam perfectly satisfied with my experiment. My boys, in caring forthese dumb creatures, have become unselfish and thoughtful. Theyhad rather go to school without their own breakfast than have theinmates of the stable go hungry. They are getting a humaneeducation, a heart education, added to the intellectual education oftheir schools. Then it keeps them at home. I used to be worriedwith the lingering about street corners, the dawdling around withother boys, and the idle, occasionally much worse than idle, talk indulged in.Now they have something to do, they are men of business. Theyare always hammering and pounding at boxes and partitions outthere in the stable, or cleaning up, and if they are sent out on anerrand, they do it and come right home. I don't mean to say that wehave deprived them of liberty. They have their days for base-ball,and foot-ball, and excursions to the woods, but they have so muchto do at home, that they won't go away unless for a specificpurpose."

While Mrs. Morris was talking, her visitor leaned forward inside herchair, and listened attentively. When she finished, Mrs. Montaguesaid, quietly, "Thank you, I am glad that you told me this. I shallget Charlie a hound."