ms to go by the barn and the dog wanders in
and looks for a buffalo robe or a harness tug to chew. It does not cost
anything to keep him, as he has only eaten one trotting harness and one
fox skin robe since Monday, though it may not be right to judge of his
appetite, as he may be a little off his feed.

Pierce said he would be a nice dog to run with a horse, or under a
carriage. Why, bless you, he won't go within twenty feet of a horse, and a
horse would run away to look at him; besides, he gets right under a
carriage wheel, and when the wheel runs over him he complains, and sings
Pinafore.

What under the sun that dog is ever going to be good for is more than we
know. He is too lean and bony for sausage. A piece of that dog as big as
your finger in a sausage would ruin a butcher. It would be a dead give
away. He looks as though he might point game, if the game was brought to
his attention, but he would be just as liable to point a cow. He might do
to stuff and place in a front yard to frighten burglars. If a burglar
wouldn't be frightened at that dog nothing would scare him.

Anyway, now we have got him, we will bring him up, though it seems as
though he would resemble a truss bridge or a refrigerator car, as much as
a dog, when he gets his growth. For fear he will fall off a wagon track we
tie a knot in his tail.

A SAFE INVESTMENT.

Up to the present time the _Sun_ has struggled along from infancy to
middle age without a safe in its office. It has never needed one. It does
not need one now, but custom has to do with these things. The associations
that surround one, go far towards making these changes. When we look at
the immense safes in the office of out neighbor, filled with bonds and
mortgages, we feel that a safe will look well. So we purchased a sort of
an iron range, with a nickle plated knob, and a lock with as many figures
on it as a tax list or a lottery advertisement, and placed it where it
will strike the visitor on his first entrance. Ah, what an imposing affair
it is! As we lean back in a chair and 1ook at it, and close our eyes, we
can see millions in it, in our mind. It is a cross between Alex.
Mitchell's safe and a child's bank. It is not full, but it has evidently
been taking something. It is a grand feeling to walk along the streets and
feel that your head contains the secret which opens the safe. No one but
yourself and your maker, and the maker of the safe knows the three numbers
which wil