, 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.

It is the longest tail we have ever seen in one number. 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 does, the dog
will reach from here to the Soldier's home.

His head is about as big as a graham gem, and runs down to a point not
bigger than a cambric needle, while his ears are about as big as a thumb
to a glove, and they hang down as though the dog didn't want to hear
anything. How a head of that kind can contain brains enough to cause a
dog to know enough to go in when it rains is a mystery. But he seems to
be intelligent.

If a man comes along on the sidewalk, the dog will follow him off,
follow him until he meets another man, and then he follows _him_ till he
meets another, and so on until he has followed the entire population. He
is not an aristocratic dog, but will follow one person just as soon as
another, and to see him going along the street, with his tail coiled up,
apparently oblivious to every human sentiment, it is touching.

His legs are about the size of pipe stems, and his feet are as big as a
base ball base. He wanders around, following a boy, then a middle aged
man, then a little girl, then an old man, and finally, about meal time,
the last person he follows seems to go by the barn and the dog wanders
in and look