to long for home when far away

will rob of joy the brightest day.

bowser the hound.

there is as much difference in the voices of dogs as in the voices of human beings. for that matter, this is true of many of the little people who wear fur. bowser the hound had a wonderful, deep, clear voice, a voice that could be heard a great distance. no one who knew it would ever mistake it for the voice of any other hound.

as a rule, bowser seldom used that great voice of his save when he was hunting some one. then, when the scent was strong, he gave tongue so fast that you wondered how he had breath enough left to run. but now that he was a prisoner of kindness, in the home of the people who had taken him in when he had crept to their doorstep, bowser sometimes bayed from sheer homesickness. when he was tied out in the yard, he would sometimes get to thinking of his home and long to see farmer brown and mrs. brown and especially his master, farmer brown's boy. then, when he could stand it no longer, he would open his mouth and send his great voice rolling across to the woods with a tone of mournfulness which never had been there before.

but great as was bowser's voice, and far as it would carry, there was none who knew him to hear it, save blacky the crow. you remember that blacky knew just where bowser was and often flew over that farmyard to make sure that bowser was still there. so more than once blacky heard bowser's great voice with its mournful note, and understood it.

it troubled blacky. yes, sir, it actually troubled blacky. he knew just what was the matter with bowser, but for the life of him he couldn't think of any way of helping bowser. "that dog is homesick," croaked blacky, as he sat in the top of a tall tree, scratching his head as if he thought he might scratch an idea out of it. "of course he doesn't know how to get home, and if he tried he probably would get as badly lost as he was before. anyway, they don't give him a chance to try. i can't lead farmer brown's boy over here because he doesn't understand my talk, and i don't understand his. there isn't a thing i can do but keep watch. i wish bowser would stop barking. it makes me feel uncomfortable. yes, sir, it makes me feel uncomfortable. old man coyote got bowser into this trouble, and he ought to get him out again, but i don't suppose it is the least bit of use to ask him. it won't do any harm to try, anyway."

so blacky started back for the green forest and the old pasture near farmer brown's to look for old man coyote, and for a long time as he flew he could hear bowser's voice with its note of homesickness and longing.