That Dog Napoleon

I paid a man $2 f or him when he was a little pup - the dog, I mean - and he told me - the man did - that if I would treat him kindly and give him plenty of corn bread - give the dog - he would gnarantee - the man would - that he would grow up - the dog would grow up - to be an honor to him - to the man. Napoleon got to be the largest dog and did it in the quickest manner of any dog I ever knew. I wore long curls at that time, I remember, into which boys used to cast burs, which hurt me a good deal, especially when Napoleon would take his claws and try to run them through my looks, although the locks never opened in that way. They were corabination loeks, I suppose, and I didn't yet ha-ve my letters in my head to set the combination on. He also grew very stroug, Napoleon did, so that I found it difficult to keep him at home unless I tied him, and even then it bothered me il another dog happened to be going by. Catching sight of that dog, Napoleon would utter a glad cry and bound over the fence, utterly unmindful of the rope or me at the other end of it. Down the street he would prance, giving vent to short barks aud drawing the attention of people after him, also myself. Neighbors coming to the windows used to marvel at the black and white streak we made in passing by. Sometimos I wouldn't get home till long after mealtirae, which in those days was quite a detriment to me, though not to Napoleon, whose appetite soon became celebrated throughout the whole town, for when he couldn't get a pair of rubbers or a fur muit to slake the gnawings of hunger he would go out and collect the loaves of brown bread that bakers had lef t upon the adjaceut stoops. I wouldu 't like to print the things that people used to say about him at such times. We grew up together - at least Napoleon did, for he had two feet the start of me. We were inseparable. Neighbors said they never saw auything more sa, but that was chiefly because I couldn't get the rope unfastened in time. It was Napoleon 's appetite that ultimately accomplished his ruin, jnst as it has many another man 's. Annt and Uncle Chesterfleld carne to visit us that falL They lived at Jay Corners, and really ought never to have goue anywhere else, but there they were, getting out of the stage at our front gate, and what could we do? I heard father say that to mother as they stood looking out of the window together. Uncle Chesterfieldwasn't really our uncle, you understand, but just an old friend of father 's - I don 't know how old, but he looked every day of it, and more. We called him uncle because he appeared that way. Aunt Chesterfield had tic douloureux, which used to cause her to niake up the awfnlest faces. I realize now that it was f rom pain, but at that age I used to laugh, wherenpon she said I was a wicked boy. She also had a brown wig and rheumatism. Uncle Uhesterfield didn't have anything but just wart - I think I counted 70 - and Aunt Chesterfield. But I heard father teil mother that was enough. Mother put them into the spare chamber, where the old fashioned canvas bottom bed was with the white valance. There were also some green worsted lamp mats on the bureau. We all said good night, father wound up the clock and everybody went to bed. I was always a sound sleeper as a boy, so you must know that Aunt Chesterfield had to shriek pretty loud to get me out, but she did it, and could have fetched me, I think, if I had been dead. I got right up and ran into the spare chamber before any body could stop me. Aunt Chesterfield was sitting in the middleof the bed in a redflannel nightgown. I didn't know her at first, because her mouth was wide open, shrieking, and her face twisted with tic douloureux, and the whitest, shiniest head you ever saw, which Iremembered with copious locks of brown. But I saw how that as ín a minute, for there was Napoleon over in the corner with 'a brown wig in his mouth, which he was tossing and worrying and carrying on dreadfnlly. Uncle Uhesterfield you couldn't see at first, but by and by you found him with his legs stuck through the arms of a rocking chair, and every time he moved Napoleon would growl, notbeiug acquainted with Uncle Chesterfield, and he was almost scared to death. They took the stage back to Jay Corners the very next day. Mother was dreadfnlly shocked, but I noticed that father didn 't get excited. "I wonder who let that dog up stairs?" hesaid mnsingly af ter the stafie was gone. l intended to say that I didn 't know, but I got to stammering and mixed myself up, and before I realized what 1 was doing I blurted the truth right out and said that l did. Father gave me a quarter. I didu't know wliat for, bnt 1 supposed at the time that it was for telling the truth. "But the dog must go, "he addeJ. "His appetite is growing too indiscrim inative. " So we sold him to a man who kppt a farm, and who soon afterward shot, him for bitiug a calf on the legs. Napoleon tised to do that to book canvassers when he was with us, and nobody found any fault with him, but on a farm it is