I reasoned the case with myself and drew the following deductions: I was feared because of my brutality; I was respected because of my "squareness," which had never been severely tempted; I had more money than ever before; I was wearing well-made, if flashy, clothes; the grumbling envy of my less fortunate fellows and chums sang like a sweet refrain in my ears; I was strong, vicious and healthy. Why, why shouldn't I consider myself successful?
MY GOOD OLD PAL.
CHAPTER VII.
MY GOOD OLD PAL.
Here we have reached a stage in my story where I must introduce to you the dearest friend of all, my good old pal, my Bill.
Bill is only a dog, but when the doors of my past banged shut behind me he was the only one able to squeeze through them into my better life. He is the only relic of my other days and a living witness of remembrance.
And, who can tell, but he, too, may have gone through a transformation, if that was necessary in his case. He was always faithful, true and loyal, and what would you think of me were I to repudiate him now?
Those who know me do believe and you will believe that I have not the shadow of desire to detract one iota from the work accomplished by my little martyr, but I would be grossly unjust were I to deprive Bill of the credit due him for his share in the making of me.
I am a man; I feel it. My soul and conscience tell me so, and to all the forces and factors that combined in my transformation I owe a debt of gratitude which deeds only—not words—can repay. If this mentioning of Bill shall demonstrate to you that he was of importance in my regeneration, then I shall have paid part of my debt to him.
Not very long ago the rector of a fashionable church in New York City came forward with the blunt claim that dogs have more than intelligence; that they have souls. Of course, this assertion caused a storm of indignation and a flood of discussion in many circles. Dogs were rated very low after that in the list of intellectual values by the representatives of those circles.