I never
could follow them down his throat, but his increased bulk was a kind of
index to the number. He generally lay by the kitchen fire twenty-four
hours after his banquet, to recover himself.
I once tried my small dorg at the swimming business, by throwing him
into a shallow pond. I had to go in after the beast pretty smart, boots,
trowsers, socks, and all. He and I had a roast by the fire that evening.
My trowsers, however, getting overdone in the operation, I lost $4 by
this experiment.
Dorgs are very fond of coat-tails and back-pockets, when some unseen
attraction lies there. They don't believe in appetite-assuagers "wasting
their fragrance on the desert air;" and will make vigorous efforts to
take possession of the hidden treasure, at any risk whatsoever.
As this is the time I and my dorg go visiting, I must jerk up the
machine for the present. I hope my remarks have done you some good. The
motto I always follow is, "Brevity is the soul of wit."
BILL BISCAY.
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