"When the Indians were conquered, the bloodhounds were turned into
the woods and became wild, so that there are now many of these wild
dogs on the islands. I grieve to say that, here in this civilized
land, bloodhounds are sometimes used to catch runaway slaves."

"Runaway slaves, Mother? Do you mean men, like Anthony Burns," asked
Frank. "He was a slave, was he not?"

"Yes, Frank, men like Anthony Burns, when they try to get their
freedom, if they are known to be hiding in a wood, are often hunted
with dogs."

"O, it is very wicked, Mother!"

"So I think, Frank; let us hope that the time will come when every
man and woman and child in our land will think so, and then there
will be no more slaves."

"And now, let us turn away from the history of bloodhounds to some
pleasant thoughts before we finish our twilight talk."

"The poet Cowper was a great friend to animals. Many of his most
beautiful letters to his friends have very pleasant passages about
his pretty tortoise shell kitten, and his distress that she would
grow up into a cat, do what he would."

"He was a lover of tame rabbits and hares, and speaks of all these
animals as if they were his friends and fellow-creatures. In one of
his little poems he tells a pretty story of his spaniel Beau. I was