There is a story about Porgus, the big bloodhound, which is worth telling. When they first got him everyone supposed he was exceedingly fierce, and, lest he should bite, he was tied up on another island, and his food taken to him twice a day. Suddenly, one day, Porgus was seen swimming towards Chocorua, and, the alarm being given, everyone except the man who knew him took refuge in the house. The dog was taken back and tied up, but as he could gain nothing by howling he broke away once more. The fact of the matter was, that Porgus was lonely, and that so far from being fierce, he was one of the most good-natured beasts in the world. This having been found out, he was added to the list of camp pets. These at various times included a flying squirrel that had a habit of jumping on your shoulder as you passed his tree; a black sheep called Billy, who learned to butt anyone in the neighborhood; the donkey, and the kyuse--the latter a mustang pony. All of these in their time were important members of the camp. Old Captain Cairns, too, a man who lived alone in a most curious house on one of the islands, was one of the greatest friends of the boys, and always came to the sports. The captain was a curiosity in his way, and he never got tired of telling yarns about the places he had been to or the people he had seen. [Illustration: CAPTAIN CAIRN'S HOUSE.] The story of Camp Chocorua, of the healthy, open-air life, of the high standards so rigidly lived up to, of the fun they had, of the work they did, and of the lessons in manliness they so unconsciously learned, is really written in the memories of the boys who, during those nine summers, spent their time on that little island. This article is but a brief account of the methods through which so much was done. The place now belongs to the founder, and a custodian is kept there to look after it. The buildings are open to the old camp boys, and many of them spend their vacation time there. For the most part, they are men in the world now, but none the less do they look back at the camp with pleasant memories, feeling and realizing, as they never did then, all that the camp life meant to them. Everything is ready for them; they have but to hang up the great Chinese gong on which the hours were struck, and the camp is open. They can sail, row, and swim, and at night, sitting before the "camp fire," they can bring back the days when they were boys; they can tell their stories of the contracts and the trials, the sports and the cruises; they can laugh over half-forgotten jokes, or speak in lower tones of the boys who are now dead. For although Camp Chocorua has ceased to be, Camp Chocorua lives in the memories of the camp boys. THE HAPPY LIFE. BY SIR HENRY WOTTON. (1568-1639.) How happy is he, born and taught, That serveth not another's will, Whose armor is his honest thought, And simple truth his utmost skill.