PERFORMING ANIMALS
XXXIV. A FIRE IN FAIRPORT
XXXV. BILLY AND THE ITALIAN
XXXVI. DANDY THE TRAMP
XXXVII. THE END OF MY STORY
BEAUTIFUL JOE
CHAPTER I
ONLY A CUR
My name is Beautiful Joe, and I am a brown dog of medium size. I am not
called Beautiful Joe because I am a beauty. Mr. Morris, the clergyman,
in whose family I have lived for the last twelve years, says that he
thinks I must be called Beautiful Joe for the same reason that his
grandfather, down South, called a very ugly colored slave-lad Cupid, and
his mother Venus.
I do not know what he means by that, but when he says it people always
look at me and smile. I know that I am not beautiful, and I know that I
am not a thoroughbred. I am only a cur.
When my mistress went every year to register me and pay my tax, and the
man in the office asked what breed I was, she said part fox-terrier and
part bull-terrier; but he always put me down a cur. I don't think she
liked having him call me a cur; still, I have heard her say that she
preferred curs, for they have more character than well-bred dogs. Her
father said that she liked ugly dogs for the same reason that a nobleman
at the court of a certain king did--namely, that no one else would.
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