I\'ve had another dog. That makes three dogs that I\'ve had, and I haven\'t been allowed to keep any of them. Grown-up folks don\'t seem to care how much a boy wants society. Perhaps if they were better acquainted with dogs they\'d understand boys better than they do.

About a month ago there were lots of burglars in our town, and father said he believed he\'d have to get a dog. Mr. Withers told father he\'d get a dog for him, and the next day he brought the most beautiful Siberian blood-hound you ever saw.

The first night we had him we chained him up in the yard, and the neighbors threw things at him all night. Nobody in our house got a wink of sleep, for the dog never stopped barking except just long enough to yell when something hit him. There was mornascuttleful of big lumps of coal in the yard in the morning, besides seven old boots, two chunks of wood, and a bushel of broken crockery.

Father said that the house was the proper place for the dog at night; so the next night we left him in the front[Pg 204] hall. He didn\'t bark any all night, but he got tired of staying in the front hall, and wandered all over the house. I suppose he felt lonesome, for he came into my room, and got on to the bed, and nearly suffocated me. I woke up dreaming that I was in a melon patch, and had to eat three hundred green watermelons or be sent to jail, and it was a great comfort when I woke up and found it was only the dog. He knocked the water-pitcher over with his tail in the morning, and then thought he saw a cat under my bed, and made such an awful noise that father came up, and told me I ought to be ashamed to disturb the whole family so early in the morning. After that the dog was[Pg 205] locked up in the kitchen at night, and father had to come down early and let him out, because the cook didn\'t dare to go into the kitchen.

We let him run loose in the yard in the daytime, until he had an accident with Mr. Martin. We\'d all been out to take tea and spend the evening with the Wilkinsons, and when we got home about nine o\'clock, there was Mr. Martin standing on the piazza, with the dog holding on to his cork-leg. Mr. Martin had come to the house to make a call at about seven o\'clock, and as soon as he stepped on the piazza the dog caught him by the leg without saying a word. Every once in a while the dog would let go just long enough to spit out a few pieces of cork and take a fresh[Pg 206] hold, but Mr. Martin didn\'t dare to stir for fear he would take hold of the other leg,............