The family is very well, even one-eyed Mike is able to go round the yard
in his dressing-gown, so to speak. He is a queer pathetic little beast
and Madame has him "hospitalized" on the bottom shelf of the sideboard
in the living room, whence he comes down (six inches to the floor)
to greet me, and then gravely hirples back, the hind legs looking
very pathetic as he hops in. But he is full of spirit and is doing very well.


As to the animals -- "those poor voiceless creatures," say you. I wish
you could hear them. Bonneau and Mike are a perfect Dignity and Impudence;
and both vocal to a wonderful degree. Mike's face is exactly like the terrier
in the old picture, and he sits up and gives his paw just like Bonneau,
and I never saw him have any instruction; and as for voice,
I wish you could hear Bonfire's "whicker" to me in the stable or elsewhere.
It is all but talk. There is one ward door that he tries whenever we pass.
He turns his head around, looks into the door, and waits.
The Sisters in the ward have changed frequently, but all alike "fall for it",
as they say, and produce a biscuit or some such dainty which Bonfire takes
with much gravity and gentleness. Should I chide him for being too eager
and give him my hand saying, "Gentle now," he mumbles with his lips,
and licks with his tongue like a dog to show how gentle he can be
when he tries. Truly a great boy is that same. On this subject
I am like a doting grandmother, but forgive it.

I have a very deep affection for Bonfire, for we have been through
so much together, and some of it bad enough. All the hard spots
to which one's memory turns the old fellow has shared,
though he says so little about it.
==