CHAPTER XIV. 

 CONCLUSION 



I was sitting by an open fire the other 

 evening, and there passed through my mind 

 a review of the breed since I saw a great 

 many years ago, when the world, to me, was 

 young, a handsome little lad leading down 

 Beacon street, Boston, two dogs, of a different 

 type than I had ever seen before, that seemed 

 to have stamped upon them an individual per- 

 sonality and style. They were not bulldogs, 

 neither were they bull terriers; breeds with 

 which I had been familiar all my life; 

 but appeared to be a happy combination of 

 both. I need hardly say that one was Bar- 

 nard's Tom, and the other his litter brother, 

 Atkinson's Toby. Tom was the one destined 

 to make Boston terrier history, as he was the 

 sire of Barnard's Mike. 



Mr. J. P. Barnard has rightly been called 

 the "Father of the Boston terrier," and he 

 vStill lives, hale and hearty. May his last days 

 be his best, and full of good cheer! 



I am now rapidly approaching the allotted 

 time for man, but I venture the assertion that 



