He seized a whip, and ran at Milo to punish him. But it happened that the lady who owned the farm, and who did not know how Old Whitey had been treated, came back from the city just at that time to pass a month in the country. She saw what was going on, asked what was the matter, and, when she learned it, said to the man, "The dog is a better Christian than you are. He shall stay, and you shall go. Come into the house, and let me pay you your wages." [Illustration] Thenceforth Old Whitey was well taken care of; and, as for Milo, he was petted and praised to his heart's content. Cruelty to animals is an act which no good man or child can he guilty of. I was not sorry to learn that the man who had tried to starve Old Whitey was dismissed from his place. Uncle Charles. CARLO'S BONNET. Of course Carlo was a dog, and I'll tell you how he came to us. As my father was walking up Arch Street, Philadelphia, one day, with his hands clasped behind him, something cold and damp was pushed against his fingers. He turned round quickly, and a beautiful brown-and-white pointer came to his side, and looked up at him with such a pleading look in his soft brown eyes, that my father said, as he patted him on the head, "Poor fellow, are you lost?" That was enough for Carlo, as we named him. He had found a kind master, and my father a faithful friend. Of course it wouldn't do to keep the dog without trying to find his owner: so the next day he was advertised; and, for several days after, every ring at the bell would make us children start, and feel afraid that somebody had come to take him away. But nobody came for him; and we loved and petted our new-found treasure to the neglect of wooden horses and dolls, and all our other toys. Sometimes he would come to the parlor-door with his feet very wet and muddy from running through the street-gutters. Then we would say, "O Carlo! what dirty boots!" He would hang down his head, and go off to the back-yard, and lick his feet until they were clean, when, with a bound, and a wag of the tail, he would rush back to the parlor, quite sure that he would be let in. But the month of June was coming,--a sorrowful time for dogs; for the city had ordered that all dogs found on the streets without muzzles on must be destroyed. At five o'clock every morning, the wagons used to go through the streets, and take up all dogs that were not muzzled. So we had to get a "bonnet," as we called it, for our pet. It was made of bright red leather, and really he looked so handsome in it, that we thought he ought to like to wear it when he went out for a walk; but he didn't one bit. He used to rub his head on the sidewalk, and fuss and squirm, and, when he didn't get rid of his bonnet in that way, the cunning fellow used to hide it when he got home. [Illustration]