the "finest dog of his time in the world, sir;" that they
were perfectly marked and very large for their age (which Harry
found it easy to believe of the young giants), and that they
were "ridiculous, sir, at the figger of two hundred and fifty!"
(which Harry did not believe so readily); and, after Harry had admired
and studied the dogs for the space of half an hour, he dropped
the price, in a kind of spasm of generosity, to two hundred dollars.
Harry was tempted to close the bargain on the spot, hot-headed,
but he decided to wait and prepare his mother for such a large
addition to the stable.

The more he dwelt on the subject the more he longed to buy the dogs.

In fact, a time comes to every healthy man when he wants a dog,
just as a time comes when he wants a wife; and Harry's dog was dead.
By consequence, Harry was in the state of sensitive affection and
desolation to which a promising new object makes the most moving appeal.
The departed dog (Bruce by name) had been a Saint Bernard;
and Deacon Hurst found one of the puppies to have so much
the expression of countenance of the late Bruce that he named
him Bruce on the spot--a little before Harry joined the group.
Harry did not at first recognize this resemblance, but he grew
to see it; and, combined with the dog's affectionate disposition,
it softened his heart. By the time he told his mother he was come
to quoting Hurst's adjectives as his own.

"Beauties, mother," says Harry, with sparkling eyes; "the markings
are perfect--couldn't be better; and their heads are shaped just right!
You can't get such watch-dogs in the world! And, for all their
enormous strength, gentle as a lamb to women and children!