“Ye jest _spoil_ ’im, missie,” his master would say. “I can’t get ’im to stop ’alf a minute at the other ’ouses, ’e’s that crazy to get on to you and ’is sugar. Come on now, you old good-for-nothing, and get along to the other customers who’ll be wantin’ their milk!” And his master would climb into the wagon and slash at him with a whip whose length of lash was a mockery. One of Charlie’s besetting sins was his determination to get a bite of grass whenever the opportunity offered. As a rule his check-rein, put on him for that very reason, prevented him from reaching the grass which grew beside the average curbstone, but just opposite our home was a terrace a foot or more high, and this was Charlie’s Mecca. When there came a day which was too stormy for his little friend to meet him, the terrace at the opposite side of the street came into service. But don’t for a moment fancy that he ever started for it so long as he heard his master’s footfalls--ah, no! he was far too wise for that. But once Mr. Harris was safely disposed of in his customer’s kitchen, then Charlie would calmly start for the terrace, which the length of his check-rein just permitted him to reach, and for about three minutes enjoy unalloyed bliss. The instant he heard his master’s returning steps he was at once overwhelmed with business cares, and started off for his next customer’s house as hard as he could go. I would that it lay in my power to convey to you some slight idea of Charlie’s “cuteness”--for only that Yankee word will express it. The intelligent eyes told how well he understood every word his master spoke to him, and their softness told his affection for that master who cared for him so faithfully. In summer and winter, through sunshine and through storm, did Charlie bring us milk, and I wish I could tell those who read this simple little history that he still does so; but dear old Charlie, who so loved and was beloved by his master, gave his life to save that master from a frightful death. In the spring of ’98 we removed to another house, and Charlie had few customers in the new street and had never stopped at that particular house. In order to test his memory our little daughter resolved to go out to the curbstone the first evening we spent in the new home, and, without saying a word, stand there and wait for Charlie to recognize her as he came along. A little before four o’clock she saw him trot-pacing toward her, and was instantly recognized by him and greeted with a soft “hoo-hoo-hoo,” as though he considered it undignified to whinny aloud while in harness. From that time Charlie needed no guiding, and after partaking of his sugar, went upon his way to a neighbor’s two doors beyond.