William J. Stevens, for several years local station agent at Swansea, R.

I., was peacefully promenading his platform one morning when a rash dog

ventured to snap at one of William's plump legs. Stevens promptly kicked

the animal halfway across the tracks, and was immediately confronted by

the owner, who demanded an explanation in language more forcible than


"Why," said Stevens when the other pa
sed for breath, "your dog's mad."

"Mad! Mad! You double-dyed blankety-blank fool, he ain't mad!"

"Oh, ain't he?" cut in Stevens. "Gosh! I should be if any one kicked me

like that!"

One would have it that a collie is the most sagacious of dogs, while the

other stood up for the setter.

"I once owned a setter," declared the latter, "which was very

intelligent. I had him on the street one day, and he acted so queerly

about a certain man we met that I asked the man his name, and--"

"Oh, that's an old story!" the collie's advocate broke in sneeringly.

"The man's name was Partridge, of course, and because of that the dog

came to a set. Ho, ho! Come again!"

"You're mistaken," rejoined the other suavely. "The dog didn't come

quite to a set, though almost. As a matter of fact, the man's name was

Quayle, and the dog hesitated on account of the spelling!"--_P. R.


The more one sees of men the more one likes dogs.

_See also_ Dachshunds.