He used to be a bad dog, and when Dr.Fairchild drove up to the house he jumped up and bit at him.

Dr.Fairchild used to speak kindly to him, and throw out bits of meat, and now when he comes, Tiger follows behind and wags his tail.

Now, give me a kiss." The girl had to give her a kiss, right up there before every one, and what a stamping the boys made.

The larger girl blushed and hurried back to her seat, with the child clinging to her hand.
There was one more story, about a brave Newfoundland dog, that saved eight lives by swimming out to a wrecked sailing vessel, and getting a rope by which the men came ashore, and then a lad got up whom they all greeted with cheers, and cries of, "The Poet! the Poet!" I didn't know what they meant, till Mrs.Wood whispered to Miss Laura that he was a boy who made rhymes, and the children had rather hear him speak than any one else in the room.
He had a snub nose and freckles, and I think he was the plainest boy there, but that didn't matter, if the other children loved him.

He sauntered up to the front, with his hands behind his back, and a very grand manner.
"The beautiful poetry recited here to-day," he drawled, "put some verses in my mind that I never had till I came here to-day." Everyone present cheered wildly, and he began in a singsong voice: "I am a Band of Mercy boy, I would not hurt a fly, I always speak to dogs and cats, When'er I pass them by.
"I always let the birdies sing, I never throw a stone, I always give a hungry dog A nice, fat, meaty bone.
"I wouldn't drive a bob-tailed horse, Nor hurry up a cow, I----" Then he forgot the rest.