scissors. So we have never been lonely. We have had much to be
thankful for. We are, to be sure, called 'the old dogs.' The name
sounds disagreeable, and is hard to bear; but we are made of good
Russia iron, and can endure a good deal.

Time was when the old dogs were essential to the warmth and comfort
of the family, but they went out of fashion. Modern improvements, as
they are called, sent us away from the cheerful domestic hearth to
this old dusty garret, and spiders weave their webs over our very
faces; but, like other DOGS, we had our day.

What article of furniture in the old-fashioned snug parlor was so
essential as we? How could the fragrant hickory and birch sticks
have sent their cheering light and warmth over the faces of the
happy family circles without our support?

The tea-kettle, genial and comely as it always was while it had a
nose, was still but an occasional visitor. We were always there. We
listened to the early morning prayer which the good man offered, on
every new day, to the Giver of all good. We were present when he
lifted his earnest voice of grateful joy, for the blessings of
loving friends and healthy children, who made their quiet life an
Eden of peace and goodness.

We were present too when sorrow came, softened by religious faith--
by trust in a loving Father.

We heard when, again and again, the news that another child was born
was sounded through the house with a sweetly solemn joy, like the
voice of an angel proclaiming anew peace on earth and good will to