“That’s first-rate,” said Oscar; “and you ’ll give me one, won’t you?”

“Yes, you may have one,” replied Alfred; “but don’t tell the boys I gave it to you, for I mean to sell the others.”

“Then I ’ll pay you for mine,” continued Oscar; “I can get the money out of father, I guess.”

“No, you shan’t pay for it, for I meant you should have one of them, if you wanted it,” replied Alfred.

“Thank you,” said Oscar, “I should like one very much.”

After looking at the dogs awhile, and canvassing their respective merits, they happened to notice that one of the drivers was about starting off with his coach.

“Halloo, Mack!” cried Alfred, “where are you going!”

“To the depot,” replied the driver.

“Let’s go, Oscar,” said Alfred; and both boys ran for the coach, the driver stopping until they had climbed up to his seat.

A ride of five minutes brought them to the depot, where the driver reined up, to await the arrival of a train, which was nearly due.  Many other carriages, of various kinds, were standing around the depot, for the same purpose.  Oscar and Alfred rambled about the building and adjoining grounds, watching the operations that were going on; for though they had witnessed the same operations many times before, there is something quite attractive about such scenes, even to older heads than theirs.  On one track, within the depot, were six or eight cars, beneath which a man was crawling along, carefully examining the running gear, and giving each wheel two or three smart raps with a hammer, to see if it had a clear and natural ring.  These cars had lately arrived from a distant city, and must undergo a careful scrutiny before they are again used.  If any break or flaw is discovered, the car is sent out to the repair-shop.  On another track, the men were making up the next outward train.  The particular baggage and passenger cars that were to be used, had to be separated from the others, and arranged in their proper order.  Another track was kept clear, for the train that was soon to arrive.  Two or three locomotives, outside of the depot, were fizzing and hissing, occasionally moving back or forward, with a loud coughing noise, or changing from one track to another.

The bell of the looked-for train was at length heard.  The engine, as it approached, was switched upon a side-track, but the cars, from which it had been detached, kept on their course until the brakes brought them to a stand in the depot.  The passengers now swarmed forth by hundreds—­a curious and motley crowd of men, women, and children; good-looking people, and ill-looking ones; the fine lady in silk, and the rough backwoods-man in homespun; the middle-aged woman in black, with three trunks and four bandboxes, and the smooth-faced dandy, whose sole baggage was a slender cane.