the finest bread dog--we think he said bread dog, though it might have
been sausage dog he said--anyway he told us it was blooded, and that when
it grew up to be a man--that is, figuratively speaking--when it grew up to
be a dog full size, it would be the handsomest canine in the Northwest.

We kicked on it, entirely, at first, but when he told us hundreds of men
who had seen the pup had offered him thousands of dollars for it, but that
he had rather give it to a friend than sell it to a stranger, we weakened,
and told him to send it in.

Well--(excuse us while we go into a corner and mutter a silent remark)--it
came in on the train Monday, and was taken to the barn. It is the
confoundedest looking dog that a white man ever set eyes on. It is about
the color of putty, and about seven feet long, though it is only
six months old. The tail is longer than a whip lash, and when you speak
sassy to that dog, the tail will begin to curl around under him, amongst
his legs, double around over his neck and back over where the tail
originally was hitched to the dog, and then there is tail enough left for
four ordinary dogs.

If that tail was cut up into ordinary tails, such as common dogs wear,
there would be enough for all the dogs in the Seventh Ward, with enough
left for a white wire clothes line. When he lays down his tail curls up
like a coil of telephone wire, and if you take hold of it and wring you
can hear the dog at the central office. If that dog is as long in
proportion, when he gets his growth, and his tail grows as much as his
body, the dog will reach from here to the Soldier's home.

[Illustration: 'THEREBY HANGS A TAIL'.]