A giraffe having trodden upon the tail of a poodle, that animal flew
into a blind rage, and wrestled valorously with the invading foot.
"Hullo, sonny!" said the giraffe, looking down, "what are you doing
there?"
"I am fighting!" was the proud reply; "but I don't know that it is any
of your business."
"Oh, I have no desire to mix in," said the good-natured giraffe. "I
never take sides in terrestrial strife. Still, as that is my foot, I
think--"
"Eh!" cried the poodle, backing some distance away and gazing upward,
shading his eyes with his paw. "You don't mean to say--by Jove it's a
fact! Well, that beats _me_! A beast of such enormous length--such
preposterous duration, as it were--I wouldn't have believed it! Of
course I can't quarrel with a non-resident; but why don't you have a
local agent on the ground?"
The reply was probably the wisest ever made; but it has not descended
to this generation. It had so very far to descend.