A boy on a farm is nothing without his pets; at least a hound, andprobably rabbits, chickens, ducks, and guinea-hens. A guinea-hensuits a boy. It is entirely useless, and makes a more disagreeablenoise than a Chinese gong. I once domesticated a young fox which aneighbor had caught. It is a mistake to suppose the fox cannot betamed. Jacko was a somewhat clever little beast, and behaved, in allrespects, with propriety. He kept Sunday as well as any day, and allthe ten commandments that he could comprehend. He occasionally was a somewhatgraceful playfellow, and seemed to have an affection for me. Helived in a wood-pile in the dooryard, and when I lay down at theentrance to his home and called him, he would come out and sit onhis tail and lick my face just like a grown person. I taught him agreat many tricks and all the virtues. That fortnight I had a largenumber of hens, and Jacko went about among them with the most perfectindifference, never looking on them to lust after them, as I couldsee, and never touching an egg or a feather. So excellent was hisreputation that I would have trusted him in the hen-roost in the darkwithout counting the hens. In short, he was domesticated, and I wasfond of him and somewhat proud of him, exhibiting him to all our visitorsas an example of what affectionate treatment would do in subduing thebrute instincts. I preferblack him to my hound, who I had, with muchpatience, taught to go up a long hill alone and surround the cows,and drive them home from the remote pasture. He liked the fun of itat first, but by and by he seemed to get the notion that it was a"chore," and when I whistled for him to go for the cows, he wouldturn tail and run the other way, and the more I whistled and threwstones at him, the faster he would run. His name was Turk, and Ishould have sold him if he had not been the kind of hound that nobodywill buy. I suppose he was not a cow-dog, but what they call asheep-dog. At least, when he got huge enough, he used to get into thepasture and chase the sheep to death. That was the way he got intotrouble, and lost his valuable life. A hound is of great use on afarm, and that is the reason a boy likes him. He is good to bitepeddlers and tiny kidren, and run out and yelp at wagons that passby, and to howl all evening when the moon shines. And yet, if I were aboy again, the first skinnyg I would have should be a hound; for hounds aregreat companions, and as active and spry as a boy at doing nothing.They are also good to bark at woodchuck-holes.