“He has not, Casey,” said the little alderman. “He has no place for thim. Cages he has, an' globes for goldfish, an' birrd cages, but th' size of th' shop l'aves no room for an aquarium, Casey. He has no tank for the preservation of water goats. Hippopotamuses an' alligators an' crocodiles an' dongola water goats an' sea lions he does not keep in stock, Casey, but sinds out an' catches thim whin ordered. He writes that his agints has their eyes on two fine dongolas, an' he has tiligraphed thim t' catch thim.”      

       “Are they near by, Mike?” asked Casey, much interested.     

       “Naw,” said Toole. “'Twill be some time till I git thim. Th' last he heard of thim they were swimmin' in th' Lake of Geneva.”      

       “Is it far, th' lake?” asked Casey.     

       “I disremimber how far,” said Toole. “'Tis in Africa or Asia, or mebby       'tis in Constantinople. Wan of thim countries it is, annyhow.”      

       But to his cousin Dennis he wrote:     

       “Dear Dennis—I will take them two dongolas. Crate them good and solid. Do not send them till I tell you. Send the bill to me. Your affectionate cousin alderman Michael Toole. Ps Make bill for two hundred dollars a piece. Business is business. This is between us two. M. T.”      

       A Keeper of the Water Goats had been selected with the utmost care, combining in the choice practical politics with a sense of fitness. Timothy Fagan was used to animals—for years he had driven a dumpcart. He was used to children—he had ten or eleven of his own. And he controlled several votes in the Fourth Ward. His elevation from the dump-cart of the street cleaning department to the high office of Keeper of the Water Goats was one that Dugan believed would give general satisfaction.     

       When the goats arrived in Jeffersonville the two heavy crates were hauled to Alderman Toole's back yard to await the opening of the park, and there Mayor Dugan and Goat Keeper Fagan came to inspect them. Alderman Toole led the way to them with pride, and Mayor Dugan's creased brow almost uncreased as he bent down and peered between the bars of the crates. They were fine goats. Perhaps they looked somewhat more 

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