I saw myself now as others saw me,--an uncommon condition either for dogs or men,--and I watched my own deportment in all my states of mind and stages of life. I saw myself first a mere puppy, not worth notice. The puppy grew, and I saw it as a dog; a fine, well-bred, and certainly a fortunate dog. Then as a clever, knowing, useful dog; a gentle, patient, obedient dog. Sometimes perhaps an awkward or foolish dog; but those were pardonable faults, while I was certainly a brave, honest, and faithful dog. But at last I saw myself as a _jealous dog_; and I paused, startled at the strange light in which my conduct appeared. How silly, unreasonable, and fractious I had been! I plainly perceived that what I had taken for injured dignity and wounded affection was nothing but pride and envy; that I had not a single ground of complaint, but that my own ill-temper might have justly given offence to my best friends; and while I had fancied myself setting so high a value upon Lily's regard, I was recklessly running the risk of losing it altogether. Happily I had been spared _that_ punishment, however well deserved. Lily's friendship had never failed me. She had either excused or not perceived my faults, and we had parted on the best possible terms. Now that I could view matters more justly, I was quite out of patience with myself for fancying that I should be happy if I no longer saw Lily nursing that kitten. Happy indeed! There was no chance of my being troubled with such a sight, and I was miserable! I would have put up with all the cats and kittens that were met coming from St. Ives; I would have tried to settle the quarrel between the Kilkenny cats who ate each other up, all but the tips of their tails;--any thing to see Lily once more, even if she chose to nurse all the kittens of "Catland." But it was too late; my regrets were all in vain; and the only course that seemed left for me now was to give up the rest of my days to brooding over my sorrows and my faults. But before I had quite devoted myself to this line of life, I gave a glance at my shadow in the glass doing the same. There I saw him moping away all his time; making no amends for his bad conduct, no attempts at behaving better; utterly useless, sulky, and disagreeable; in fact, more foolish than ever. "No," thought I, as I jumped up and shook myself all over, "I will not have this distressing experience for nothing; I will make good use of it; I cannot recall the past, but I will act differently for the future;" and down I lay again to make plans for the future. Coming events cast no shadows before, either in the glass or in my dreams. I knew nothing about what I might, could, would, or should do. The Past I had lost, the Future was not in my power; and what remained to me? Perhaps I might never have an opportunity of behaving well again.