It certainly was the most remarkable-looking poodle I had ever seen. It was a pure black, with the back part of its body shaved to the skin except where, on the top, the hair had been left in the shape of an anchor. A tuft only was left at the end of the tail; the feet had bracelets or anklets of hair, and as the dog's head and chest were not clipped it looked like a lion from the front; but from the side it was the most comical-looking object you can possibly imagine, while in looking down upon it, the symbol of hope was always presented; and this anchor, as I learned afterward, was emblematical of the Major's chief characteristic. "What're the chances, Mister?" asked his owner, after I had examined the dog for a few moments. "I think they are good," I replied. "But why do you wish him to go in? Does he belong to either nine?" "No, he doesn't," responded my new acquaintance; "but," confidentially, "he's left-field in the 'Lincolns,' and if you knew how badly he'd feel to miss this game, you'd pass him in." "Can he play?" I inquired in an incredulous tone. "Can he play?" the youngster retorted indignantly, adding, "Can you, Major?" as he turned to the dog. The animal showed all its teeth, and cast up its solemn eyes, saying "yes," as plainly as possible. "You just come with me a minute, Mister," continued the small speaker; and leading me around the corner, away from the crowd, he drew a well-worn base-ball from a dilapidated pocket, and tossed it to me. "He does best at a fly-catch," he remarked; "and when I say he's left-field of our nine, it's as much as to say he isn't a muffer." Curious to see what the dog would do, I tossed the ball at him, and it landed fair in his capacious mouth, and was held there. "That's not what he wants, Mister," said Major's young master. "Throw it up high,--just as high as you can." I drew back my arm and looked up; and on the instant Major had become like another dog. His ears stood up, his eyes flashed, and the hairy emblem of hope seemed to wriggle like a snake as he danced backward, barking in loud, jubilant tones. This time I threw the ball as high as I could. Up it went, so high, in fact, that I doubt if I could have caught it myself, as it is some years since I severed my connection with a base-ball nine. But the moment it left my hand, Major seemed to know where it was going to fall; he watched it for a second, then ran back about twenty feet, and as it turned in the air, he was directly under it. Down it came, right over the dog, which stood with legs braced apart, and tail wagging slowly; then a red mouth opened, a row of white teeth glistened and----Major had caught the ball! A few seconds later he delivered it to me, with a wag of his tail that said plainly, "You're out, Mister."