"Stranger, I want to leave my dog in this 'ere office till the boat starts; I'm afraid somebody will steal him." "You can't do it," said the clerk; "take him out." "Well, stranger, that is cruel; but you're both dispositioned alike, and he's kinder company for you." "Take him out!" roared the clerk. "Well, stranger, I don't think you're honest, and you want watching. Here, Dragon," he said to the dog, "sit down here, and watch that fellow sharp!" and turning on his heel said: "Put him out, stranger, if he's troublesome." The dog lay there till the boat started, watching and howling at every movement of the clerk, who gave him the better half of the office. FAILED FOR A GOOD REASON.--57. Many a glorious speculation has failed for the same good reason that the old Taxan ranger gave when he was asked why he didn't buy land when it was dog cheap. "Wall, I did come nigh onto taking eight thousand acres once't," said old Joe, mournfully. "You see, two of the boys came in one day from an Indian hunt without any shoes, and offered me their titles to two leagues just below for a pair of boots." "For a pair of boots!" we exclaimed. "But why on earth did you not take it? They'd be worth a hundred thousand dollars to-day. Why did'nt you give them the boots?" "Just because I did'nt have the boots to give," said old Joe, as he took another chew of tobacco, quite as contented as if he owned two hundred leagues of land. WRITING TO THE OLD WOMAN.--58. "Massa," said the black steward to his captain, as they fell in with a homeward-bound vessel, "I wish you would write a few lines for me to the old woman, 'cause I can't write." The good-natured skipper complied, and wrote all that Pompey dictated. As the captain was about to seal up the letter, Pompey reminded him that he had omitted to say, "Please 'scuse de bad writin' and spellin'." "I'M THE BAGGAGE."--59. As the mid-day Worcester train was about leaving the _dépôt_, a man of the Johnsonian type of manners entered one of the cars, and gruffly requested that two young ladies occupying separate seats should sit together, that he and his friend might enjoy a _tête-à-tête_ on the other seat. "But," said one of the damsels, blushing, "this seat is engaged." "Engaged, is it?" brusquely responded the man; "who engaged it!" "A young man," said the conscious maiden. "A young man, eh! where's his baggage?" persisted Ursa Major. "I'm his baggage, Old Hateful," replied the demure damsel, putting her rosy lips into the prettiest pout. "Old Hateful" subsided; the young man came in, extended his arm protectingly, almost caressingly, around his "baggage," and Mr. Conductor Capron started the train. CROSS PURPOSES.--60.