It is impossible to realize the extent to which our forests have been destroyed unless one travels through these great barren wastes. To ride in a railway train for hundreds of miles through northern Michigan and Minnesota, seeing nothing but stumps, like tombstones of what were once magnificent trees, and short dead trunks, like sentinels on a battle-field, is a sad and depressing sight.
PINCH AND TEDDY
Pinch was a tiny terrier pup when we first brought him home to live with us. He was a plump, round, little fellow, with long, silvery-gray hair. His ears were so soft and silky that every one admired them, and his eyes were as bright as buttons, when we could get a glimpse of them. But the hair hung over them so long that we did not see them very often.
As he grew older we had him clipped every summer. Then he was much more comfortable; and he looked prettier, too, for his coat was as smooth and shining as a piece of satin. The hair over his eyes was never cut; if it were, he could not see so well. This hair was needed to protect his eyes from the strong sunlight.
Pinch was a very aristocratic little dog. He did not like to play with any one whose manners were not good.
Sometimes a street dog would come up to him, with a friendly air, and say, "Good morning, wouldn't you like to play with me for a while?"
But Pinch always tossed his nose in the air and walked away very proudly, saying, "No, I thank you, not to-day."
This often made the poor street dog feel a little hurt; but he would wag his tail and run away to his old playmates. "Don't ever try to have anything to do with aristocratic Pinch," he would tell them, in dog language. "He feels too fine for us. I shall never give him a chance to snub me again."