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If the teacher cuts out a dog and displays it as a sample, the class will be apt to see that piece of paper only and not a real dog. If the children are permitted to draw the outline either freehand or around a pattern, still less mental effort is required, and in cutting they see only the bit of line just ahead of the scissors and not the object as a whole.
Next the hunter stood his dog, and it seemed as if he would even wag his tail. Toni was like one enchanted and hardly breathed. When his mother finished speaking, the wood-carver said it seemed to him as if she thought the affair would half go of itself, but it was not so. If a thing was to be done right, it cost much time and patience to learn.
And, oh! how thankful Nannie and Billie and their papa and mamma were to Uncle Wiggily. Now, in case the little boy next door doesn't take our clothes line, to make a swing for his puppy dog, I'll tell you about Uncle Wiggily and the paper house in the following story.
But I have known a dog with more goodness than that would come to. We cannot be good without having consented to be made good. God shows us the good and the bad; urges us to be good; wakes good thoughts and desires in us; helps our spirit with his Spirit, our thought with his thought: but we must yield; we must turn to him; we must consent, yes, try to be made good.
It's queer how ugly some people are about their dogs. They'll keep them no matter how they worry other people, and even when they're snatching the bread out of their neighbors' mouths. But I say that is not the fault of the four-legged dog. A human dog is the worst of all. There's a band of sheep-killing dogs here in Riverdale, that their owners can't, or won't, keep out of mischief.
"I went to the table to look after the money and there was a shoemaker under the table, and he stuck his awl into me." That was the dog, you know. "I started to go upstairs, and there was a man up there threshing, and he knocked me down with his flail." That was the goat, you know. "I started to go down cellar, and there was a man down there chopping wood, and he knocked me up with his axe."
Moss, whisking up a corner of her apron to wipe her eyes, for the thought of the poor little fellow alone there for two days and nights with no bed but musty straw, no food but the scraps a dog brought him, was too much for her.
A blind man's dog, or the companion of a knife-grinder, is comparatively elevated. He at least owes allegiance to but one master. But the Boys' Dog is the thrall of an entire juvenile community, obedient to the beck and call of the smallest imp in the neighborhood, attached to and serving not the individual boy so much as the boy element and principle.
"Make believe kind. I could put some stripes on Splash, and make believe our dog was a tiger, Sue." "How could you put stripes on him, Bunny?" "With paint." "No!" cried Sue, shaking her head. "Splash is half my dog, and I don't want him all painted up. You sha'n't do it, Bunny Brown!" "All right, then. I'll only paint my half of Splash," said the little boy.
A veil was attached to it now which hid her face from me. By her side trotted a little Italian greyhound, the pet companion of all her walks, smartly dressed in a scarlet cloth wrapper, to keep the sharp air from his delicate skin. She did not seem to notice the dog. She walked straight forward, with her head drooping a little, and her arms folded in her cloak.
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