Some boys had surprised him asleep, when he was about a week old, and had carefully taken him home with them. There he had been tended and made much of by the whole family, and so he had grown to have a genuine affection for his captors.
He was allowed full freedom to go about the woods as he chose, and never failed to return at night; and when called by name—for the boys had named him Dick—he would come bounding up as if he dearly loved to be petted.
It was amusing to see him eat milk. When the saucer was set before him and he commenced to lap the milk, he would beat a tattoo with one of his front feet. He never lapped his saucer of milk without, in this manner, beating the floor with his hoof.
Now, my little boy, I do wish that these boys might be induced to sell this fawn. If I could get him, don't you think a little boy that I could name would have a beautiful pet? But we will not expect too much, will we?
Your loving Papa.
I want to tell my little readers that Albert has a fawn which he calls his own and pets and caresses. It has a blue ribbon around its neck with a little bell attached, and we all laugh to see it beat a tattoo with its little foot while it laps milk from a saucer. Albert says, "It's ten times more beautiful, and a hundred times dearer than papa wrote about."
CHARLES T. JEROME.
