The tramp that has a dog to sell is a little more common than such children of genius as the professor and the owner of the patent leg.  But I had with one of them a queer experience which may be worth relating.

One day recently a rough-looking vagabond called at my house, accompanied by a forlorn mongrel dog.  I came out upon the porch to see him, and he said,

“I say, pardner, I understood that you wanted to buy a watch-dog, and I brought one around for you You never seen such a dog for watching as this one You tell that dog to watch a thing, and bet your life he’ll sit down and watch it until he goes stone blind.  Now, I’ll tell you what I’ll let you have—­”

I cut his remarks short at this point with the information that I didn’t want a dog, and that if I had wanted a dog nothing on earth could induce me to accept that particular dog.  So he left and went down the street.  He must have made a mistake and come in again through the back gate, thinking it was another place, for in a few minutes the cook said there was a man in the kitchen who wanted to see me; and when I went down, there was the same man with the same dog.  He didn’t recognize me, and as soon as I entered he remarked,

“I say, old pard, somebody was saying that you wanted to buy a watch-dog.  Now, here’s a watch-dog that’d rather watch than eat any time.  Give that dog something to fasten his eye on—­don’t care what it is:  anything from a plug hat to a skating-rink—­and there his eye stays like it was chained with a trace-chain.  Now, I’ll tell you what I’ll do with—­”

I suddenly informed him in a peremptory tone that nothing would induce me to purchase a dog at that moment, and then I pushed him out and shut the door.  When he was gone, I went across the street to see Butterwick about top-dressing my grassplot.  He was out, and I sat down on the porch chair to wait for him.  A second later the proprietor of the dog came shuffling through the gate with the dog at his heels.  When he reached the porch, he said, not recognizing me,

“I say, pardner, the man across the street there told me you wanted a good watch-dog, and I came right over with this splendid animal.  Look at him!  Never saw such an eye as that in a dog, now, did you?  Well, now, when this dog fixes that eye on anything, it remains.  There it stays.  Earthquakes, or fires, or torchlight processions, or bones, or nothing, can induce him to move.  Therefore, what I say is that I offer you that dog for—­”

[Illustration:  A DOG FOR SALE]

Then I got up in silence and walked deliberately out into the street, and left the man standing there.  As I reached the sidewalk I saw Butterwick going into Col.  Coffin’s office.  I went over after him, while the man with the dog went in the opposite direction.  Butterwick was in the back office; and as the front room was empty, I sat down in a chair until he got through with Coffin and came out.  In a few minutes there was a rap at the door.  I said,