Watertown republican. [volume] (Watertown, Wis.) 1860-1906, 1881-11-02

wrong With me. Never had he hung
after my heels so close, never jumped
up and kissed me SO often, as during
those dreadful days.
" 1t was three days now; my father
was to come home that night, and he
came.
He had evidently forgotten all about
his annoyance, and all about Prin,
whom | hid under my pinafore till I saw
that father was quite merry and jolly;
then let him run about the kitchen as
usual, and father said kind word or
two to him, which made me feel that all
was right.
ooh, how happy L was, and how
happy was Prin! I remember as if it
was yesterday, all we did that evening;
how we took walk together down the
village-how we ran after the geese on
the common and the duck in the pond;
he never did anything worse than run
after them, being such a gentle little
dog. When we came home father was
asleep on his chair by the fire, so L sat
down on the stool beside him with Prin
on my lap, who very soon went to sleep,
too.
"By and by father woke up, and
pulled his ears, and said what a pretty
dog he was.
"'You won't let him be sent away,
then?' [ entreated.
"Father laughed %, that's quite
another matter, my little woman.
wouldn't do it if 1 was rich, like the
squire. Suppose you ask the squire to
take him--buy him, possibly, and I'll
give you half the money to get yourself
a new hat.
"Sell Prin! Get myself a new hat
with the money! The idea was horrible.
"tWell, well, don't cry. I hate to
see little girls crying, said father, half
vexed, half coaxing, and I stopped at
once. Then mother called me off to bed,
and | had no time for another word.
But all the misery had come back
again. Hay awake hour after hour Sob
bling quietly to myself and racking my
brain as to what was to do with Prin.
He didn't wake-he always slept like a
top, as he did that night, only once
stirring when, in my miserable restless
ness, moved my feet up and down,
making little sleepy bark and settling
down again as contentedly as possible.
He had such happy life, my little Prin !
Happy, [ am glad to think, from begin
ming to end.
:" I woke next morning with a great
weight on my heart. Father was going
off again for the day, and before he went
[ was determined to speak. [ wasa good
deal afraid of him, but for Prin's sake I
could dare anything.
$50 caught at his coat after waiting
to the very last minute.
CSC Father, what about Prin p
How child? Oh the tax-and Clea-
yer will be round tomorrow. He told
me so.
"s Tomorrow
"' Yes, that's the last day. He must
have the money or the dog. And he
won't get the money, so the dog must
CO.
81 burst out crying. What shall l
do? what shall I do?'
"'Anything you ike-only don't
bother me-Tm bothered enough. Sell
him OF give him away, CT tie stone to
him and drown him, which would get
him out of trouble anyhow. But won't
keep him; the dog must 60
"'On, father, father 7 [ entreated,
hanging on to his coat tails; but he had
now got thoroughly vexed. He threw
me off and fell with my head against
the door post. Either the blow or the
grief SO stupefed me that [ lay there
ever so long, and remember nothing till
woke up with Prin licking my face and
hands. took him into my arms and
cried-oh, how I cried.
'ss Mother found me by-and-by and
sent me off to school. I suppose she
thought it best for me, though she looked
a little sorry.
"sThere's no use making fuss about
the dog" said she; "what father says
he means, you know that. Poor Prin's
a good little fellow" and she stopped to
pat him. ''But for all that it's quite
true he eats as much as child, and he's
rather bother; he'd better go. There's
dogs enough in the world-rather too
many
perhaps, but all other dogs were
nothing to me. 1 had only my Prin.
Ny heart was, almost broken.
"And here I wish to say, children,
that you must not think blame either
father or mother They were very good
parents to me, and neither OF them meant
to be unkind; only they did not quite
understand me. 1t is often SO. And
since have been mother myself have
prayed with all my heart, and tried with
all my heart, too, that I might not only
love but understand my children.
ssI don't remember much about the
day. I must have said my lesson in
sort of dreamer not said them at all,
for [ know / was punished, and kept
after school hours, which added to my
misery by hindering my return home
Otherwise I did not feel indeed, I
felt nothing at all, except this was the
last day-the very last day-when u
should have my poor little Prin.
"What was to become of him? Would
he be taken away, and killed at once, or
treated llnkindly, and made SO miserable
that he would be better dead than alive?
Every cruel act of those rough butcher
boys came into my mind What might
not happen to Prin If he fell into their
hands, and away, and ignorant of what
was being done to him! The idea was
agonizing.
I