One day, when he had just blackened his own boots (he did not charge himself anything—­he only did it so as to have the air of being busy), his dog came running up to him from the muddy street, and accidentally put his dirty paw on his master’s bright boots.  The man, who was of an amiable disposition, did not scold much, but as he was brushing off the mud he said: 

“You little rascal!  I wish it had been the boots of some other man that you had covered with dirt.  That would have been sensible.”

Just at that moment a thought struck the bootblack.

He would teach his dog to muddy other people’s boots!

The man immediately acted on this idea, and gave his dog lessons every day in the art of muddying boots.  In a week or two, no gentleman with highly polished boots could pass the bootblack’s stand without seeing a dog rush into the street and gutter, and then come and jump on his feet, spattering his boots with mud and water, and making it necessary for him to go immediately to the nearest bootblack—­which was of course the dog’s master.

The bootblack now had constant custom, and his circumstances began rapidly to improve.  His children, being better fed, grew round and chubby; his wife had three good meals a day, and some warm flannels, and she soon lost the wan and feeble look which she had worn so long.  As for the man himself, he and his dog were gay and busy all the day long.

But people began to suspect something after a while.  One gentleman who had his boots muddied regularly every day, once questioned the bootblack very closely, for he saw that the dog belonged to him, and the man was obliged to confess that he had taught the dog the trick.  The gentleman, pleased with the smartness of the dog, and perhaps desirous of ridding his fellow-citizens of annoyance and expense, purchased the animal and took him home.

But he did not keep him long.  In a few days the dog escaped, and came back to his old master and his muddy trade.

But I do not think that that bootblack always prospered.  People who live by tricks seldom do.  I have no doubt that a great many people found out his practices, and that the authorities drove him away from his stand, and that he was obliged to give up his business, and perhaps go into the army; while his wife supported the family by taking in washing and going out to scrub.  I am not sure that all this happened, but I would not be at all surprised if it turned out exactly as I say.

GOING AFTER THE COWS.

[Illustration]

If there is anything which a little country-boy likes, and which a big country-boy dislikes, it is to go after the cows.  There is no need of giving the reasons why the big boy does not like this duty.  It is enough to say that it is a small boy’s business, and the big boy knows it.  The excitement of hunting up and driving home a lot of slow, meandering cattle is not sufficient for a mind capable of grappling with the highest grade of agricultural ideas, and the youth who has reached the mature age of fifteen or sixteen is very apt to think that his mind is one of that kind.