However, I was not without my own methods of showing my sentiments. If I felt indifferent or contemptuous towards a person entering the room, I merely opened one eye and yawned at him. If he attempted any compliments, calling me "Good Captain," "Fine Dog," and trying to pat me, I shook off his hand, and rising from my rug, turned once round, and curling my tail under me, sank down again to my repose without taking any further notice of him. But occasionally my master admitted visitors whom I considered as such highly improper acquaintances for him, that I could scarcely restrain my indignation. I knew I must not bite them, though, in my own opinion, it would have been by far the best thing to do; I did not dare so much as to bark at them, for my master objected even to that expression of feeling: but I could not resist receiving them with low growls; during their visit I never took my eyes off them for a moment, and I made a point of following them to the door, and seeing them safe off the premises. Others, on the contrary, I regarded with the highest confidence and esteem. Their visits gave almost as much pleasure to me as to my master, and I took pains to show my friendship by every means in my power; leaving the fireside to meet them, wagging my tail, shaking a paw with them the moment I was asked, and sitting with my nose resting on their lap. But I took no unwelcome liberties; for I was gifted with a particular power of discriminating between those who really liked me, and those who only tolerated me out of politeness. Upon the latter I never willingly intruded, though I have been sometimes obliged to submit to a hypocritical pat bestowed on me for the sake of my young mistress; but a real friend of dogs I recognised at a glance, whether lady or gentleman, so that I could safely place my paw in the whitest hand, or rest my head against the gayest dress, without fear of a repulse. The person I loved best in the world was my master; or rather, I should say, he was the person for whom I had the highest respect. My love was bestowed in at least an equal degree upon my young mistress, his daughter Lily, in whose every action I took a deep interest. She was a graceful, gentle little creature, whom I could have knocked down and trampled upon in a minute; but though my strength was so superior to hers, there was no one whom I was so ready to obey. A word or look from Lily managed me completely; and her gentle warning of "Oh, Captain," has often recalled me to good manners when I was on the point of breaking out into fury against some obnoxious person. Willing subject as I was, I yet looked upon myself in some manner as her guardian and protector, and it would have fared ill with man or beast who had attempted to molest her.