"Well," responds the old one, transposing his legs, "may be I _don't_, but it's _my_ 'pinion you'd make a sorry _fiste_ at best, if you had tail and ears a little longer!" This _sally_ amused all but the young gentleman who "run wid de machine," and attracted general attention towards the old man, in whose eyes and wrinkles lurked a goodly share of mother wit and shrewdness. _Jakey_ backing down, another of the by-standers put in. "Poppy, I expect you know what a good dog is?" "I reckon, boys, I orter. But I'm plaguy dry listening to your dog talk--confounded dry!" "What'll you drink, daddy?" said half a dozen of the dog fanciers, thinking to wet the old man's whistle to get some fun out of him. "What'll you drink?--come up, daddy." "Sperrets, boys, good old sperrets," and the old codger drank; then giving his lips a wipe with the back of his hand, and drawing out a long, deep "ah-h-h-h!" he again took his seat, observing, as he partially aroused his ugly and cross-grained mongrel-- "Here's a _dog_, boys." "That your dog, dad?" asked several. "That's my dog, boys. He _is_ a dog." "Ain't he, tho'?" jocularly responded the dog men. "What breed, daddy, do you call that dog of yours?" asked one. "Breed? He ain't any breed, _he_ ain't. Stand up, Barney, (jerking up the sneaking-looking thing.) He's no breed, boys; look at him--see his tushes; growl, Barney, growl!--Ain't them tushes, boys? He's no breed, boys; _he's original stock!_" "Well, so I was going to say," says one. "That dog," says another, "must be valuable." "Waluable?" re-echoes the old man; "he is all that, boys; I wouldn't sell him; but, boys, I'm dry, dry as a powder horn--so much talkin' makes one dry." "Well, come up, poppy; what'll you take?" said the boys. "Sperrets, boys; good old sperrets. I do like good sperrets, boys, and that sperrets, Mister (to the ruffled-bosomed bar-keeper), o' your'n is like my dog--_can't be beat!_" "Well, daddy," continued the dog men, "where'd you get your dog?" "That dog," said the old fellow, again giving his mouth a back-hander, and his "ah-h-h!" accompaniment; "well, I'll tell you, boys, all about it." "Do, poppy, that's right; now, tell us all about it," they cried. "Well, boys, 'd any you know Ben. McConachy, out here at the Risin' Sun Tavern?" "We've heard of him, daddy--go on," says they. "Well, I worked for Ben. McConachy, one winter; he was a pizen mean man, but his wife--wasn't she mean? Why, boys, she'd spread all the bread with butter afore we sat down to breakfast; she'd begin with a quarter pound of butter, and when she'd got through, she had twice as much left." "But how about the dog, daddy? Come, tell us about your _dog_."