r companion, than one of your own species. A male companion, after
all, is soon expended, and a female, which would be more agreeable, is
not admissible. If you admit a young traveller into your carriage--what
then? He is handsome, pleasant, romantic, and so forth; but you must not
give his opinions in contradiction to your own, and if they coincide, it
is superfluous. Now, a poodle is a dog of parts, and it is more likely
that you fall in with a sagacious dog than with a sagacious man. The
poodle is the thing; you must recount your meeting, his purchase, size,
colour, and qualifications, and anecdotes of his sagacity, vouched for
by the landlord, and all the _garcons_ of the hotel. As you proceed on
your travels, his attachment to you increases, and wind up every third
chapter with "your faithful Mouton."

_A._ Will not all that be considered frivolous?

_B._ Frivolous! by no means. The frivolous will like it, and those who
have more sense, although they may think that Mouton does not at all
assist your travelling researches, are too well acquainted with the
virtues of the canine race, and the attachment insensibly inbibed for so
faithful an attendant, not to forgive your affectionate mention of him.
Besides it will go far to assist the versimilitude of your travels. As
for your female readers, they will prefer Mouton even to you.

_A._ All-powerful and mighty magician, whose wand of humbug, like that
of Aaron's, swallows up all others, not excepting that of divine Truth,
I obey you! Mouton shall be summoned to my aid: he shall flourish, and
my pen shall flourish in praise of his endless perfections. But,
Barnstaple, what shall I give for him?

_B._ (_thinks awhile._) Not less than forty louis.

_A._ Forty louis for a poodle!

_B._ Most certainly; not a sous less. The value of anything in the eyes
of the world is exactly what it costs. Mouton, at a five franc piece,
would excite no interest; and his value to the reader will increase in
proportion to his price, which will be considered an undeniable proof of
all his wonderful sagacity, with which you are to amuse the reader.

_A._ But in what is to consist his sagacity?

_B._ He must do everything but speak. Indeed, he must so far speak as to
howl the first part of "Lieber Augustin."

_A._ His instinct shall put our boasted reason to the blush. But----I
think I had better not bring him home with me.

_B._ Of course not. In the first place, it's absolutely nece