AUNT ESTHER'S STORIES. 163 



deeper into the darkness, and crouched on the ground 

 when he saw his master, and for a long time refused even 

 to take food. The family all visited and condoled with him, 

 and finally his sorrows were somewhat abated ; but he 

 would not be persuaded to leave the cellar for nearly a 

 week. Perhaps by that time he indulged the hope that 

 his hair was beginning to grow again, and all were careful 

 not to destroy the allusion by any jests or comments on 

 his appearance. 



Such were some of the stories of Prince's talents and 

 exploits which Aunt Esther used to relate to us. What 

 finally became of the old fellow we never heard. Let us 

 hope that, as he grew old, and gradually lost his strength, 

 and felt the infirmities of age creeping on, he was tenderly 

 and kindly cared for in memory of the services of his best 

 days, that he had a warm corner by the kitchen fire, 

 and was daily spoken to in kindly tones by his old friends. 

 Nothing is a sadder sight than to see a poor old favorite, 

 that once was petted and caressed by every member of 

 the family, now sneaking and cowering as if dreading 

 every moment a kick or a blow, turned from the parlor 

 into the kitchen, driven from the kitchen by the cook's 

 broomstick, half starved and lonesome. 



O, how much kinder if the poor thread of life were at 

 once cut by some pistol-shot, than to have the neglected 

 favorite linger only to suffer ! Now, boys, I put it to you, 



