{"collection":"folklore-oral-tradition","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_57384/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_57384","id":"gutenberg_57384","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/57384","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Nature/Gardening/Animals","Dogs -- Folklore"],"text":"E-text prepared by MFR, David E. Brown, and the Online Distributed\nProofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page images generously made\navailable by the Google Books Library Project (https://books.google.com)\n\n\n\nNote: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this\n      file which includes the original illustrations.\n      See 57384-h.htm or 57384-h.zip:\n      (https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/57384/pg57384-images.html)\n      or\n      (https://www.gutenberg.org/files/57384/57384-h.zip)\n\n\n      Images of the original pages are available through\n      the Google Books Library Project. See\n      https://books.google.com/books?id=QLErAQAAMAAJ&hl=en\n\n\nTranscriber\u2019s note:\n\n      Text in italics is surrounded by underscores: _italics_.\n\n\n\n\n\n\u201cTHE ONE\u201d DOG AND \u201cTHE OTHERS\u201d\n\n\n[Illustration: BANDY]\n\n\n\u201cTHE ONE\u201d DOG\nAND\n\u201cTHE OTHERS\u201d\n\nA Study of Canine Character\n\nby\n\nFRANCES SLAUGHTER\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\nIllustrations by Augusta Guest and G. Vernon Stokes\nand From Photographs\n\n\n\n\n\n\nLongmans, Green, and Co.\n39 Paternoster Row, London\nNew York, Bombay, and Calcutta\n1907\n\nCopyright, 1907, by\nLongmans, Green, and Co.\n\nAll Rights Reserved\n\nThe University Press, Cambridge, U.S.A.\n\n\n\n\nTO THE MEMORY\n\nOF\n\n\u201cTHE ONE\u201d\n\n\n  A life so close to ours, and yet apart\n  By all the wide and unsailed seas of race,\n  But yet a faithful soul, a loving heart\n  Can send a voice o\u2019er that unbounded space.\n  We knew thy wants, thy soft eyes told thy love,\n  Thy joys and sorrows were to us as dear\n  As though winged words were given thee from above,\n  Nor any human soul could be more dear.\n  No man more pure and single in his life,\n  Thou lov\u2019dst one only and to her wast true.\n  Thy love was firm, thou seekedst naught that\u2019s new,\n  Affection\u2019s chain kept out the rule of strife.\n  So close thy little life twined round the heart,\n  That of our life thou art henceforth a part.\n\n\n\n\nFOREWORD\n\n\n\u201cMy dog is perfection in character and disposition, and in intelligence\nhe cannot be beaten.\u201d\n\nThese words give the attitude of mind of the large body of dog lovers,\nwhether in England or America, or in whatever remote corner of the\nearth they may be found. For is not every human convinced in the inner\nrecesses of his mind of the immense superiority of his own canine\nfavourite to all others of his race? Yet some there are who only\ncherish this delusion in the sanctity of their unspoken thoughts,\nwhile with the unfettered license of a fine freedom they look out on\nthe world of dogs with what appears, at least to themselves, to be\nan unbiassed and independent judgment. Thus while in confidential\nparley with ourselves we play with our unshaken faith in the gifts and\nperformances of our own special dog friend, we present a bold front of\nopen-minded justice when we are asked to listen to the deeds of other\ndogs.\n\nSuch an attitude is all that I can hope for from those who read these\nsimple studies of dog life. The interest of the unvarnished anecdotes,\nthat have been collected at first hand, will be intensified by the\nthought of the very superior cleverness of \u201cThe One\u201d dog in similar\ncircumstances, as against \u201cThe Others,\u201d whose gifts must always seem\nquite painfully mediocre in comparison.\n\nBut to all our dog friends we have duties in proportion to the response\nthey make to the influences of mind and affection we bring to bear\non them. While we cherish \u201cThe One,\u201d may we never forget that every\ninstinct of humanity demands from us a careful discrimination of the\nrights of \u201cThe Others\u201d in the battle of life.\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\n                                              PAGE\n\n  INTRODUCTION                                xiii\n\n\n  BOOK I--LIFE HISTORIES\n      THE CHILD OF THE HOUSE                     3\n      THE DIPLOMATIST                           32\n      THE PROFESSOR                             44\n      THE SOLDIER OF FORTUNE                    69\n      THE ARTISTIC THIEF                        87\n\n  BOOK II--STUDIES AND STORIES                 105\n\n  INDEX                                        269\n\n\n\n\nLIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS\n\n\n  Bandy                             _Frontispiece_\n\n  The Child of the House           _Facing page_ 4\n\n  The Diplomatist                      \u201c    \u201c   32\n\n  The Professor                        \u201c    \u201c   46\n\n  The Soldier of Fortune               \u201c    \u201c   70\n\n  The Artistic Thief                   \u201c    \u201c   96\n\n  Suspicion                            \u201c    \u201c  120\n\n  Mr. Guest\u2019s Hounds, 1900             \u201c    \u201c  134\n\n  \u201cConscience Makes Cowards of us\u201d     \u201c    \u201c  150\n\n  The Invalid and his New Friend       \u201c    \u201c  166\n\n  Bobbie                               \u201c    \u201c  180\n\n  Billy                                \u201c    \u201c  188\n\n  \u201cAre they Coming?\u201d                   \u201c    \u201c  198\n\n  Bobbins                              \u201c    \u201c  204\n\n  Boy                                  \u201c    \u201c  208\n\n  Bettina Corona                       \u201c    \u201c  212\n\n  A Sunday Morning\u2019s Work              \u201c    \u201c  232\n\n  Bosky                                \u201c    \u201c  244\n\n  Jimmy                                \u201c    \u201c  248\n\n\n\n\nINTRODUCTION\n\n\n\u201cThat creature\u2019s best that comes most near to man\u201d may in truth be\nspoken of the dog. Nearest to man in the daily experiences of domestic\nlife, he shares the joys and disappointments that are the lot of his\nowner. Under man\u2019s influence the dog\u2019s intelligence has been trained\nto meet the requirements of the environment that is now his. In what a\nwonderful way he responds to the demands of the civilised conditions of\nhis life, those know who bring the light of their higher intelligence\nto bear on the study of his character. The more we study the dog,\nthe better we shall understand his kinship to us in the realms of\nmental and moral feeling, and the more clearly we shall appreciate the\nbarriers that cut him off from the experiences of our own higher life.\n\nIn the Life Histories of five dogs I have gathered facts that give the\ndistinctive characteristics that marked each one off from his fellows.\nWith these dogs I have had exceptional advantages of learning from\ntheir owners the special marks of character that distinguished them.\nThe results of this study I have made the groundwork of my book. The\nanecdotes of many other dogs, that are given to illustrate more fully\nindividual traits of character, have all been collected at first hand,\nand, so far as I know, have never before appeared in print.\n\nThe only exceptions are those I have taken from Miss Serrell\u2019s book\n\u201cWith Hound and Terrier in the Field.\u201d As editor of this book I am\nable to vouch for the truth of the many and charming stories that are\nscattered broadcast through it, and with the author\u2019s permission I have\ngiven a few that bear on the subject of my own work. Two other stories,\none of which is taken from the delightful study of the first Earl of\nLytton, written by his daughter, Lady Betty Balfour, and a quotation\nfrom Mrs. Draycott\u2019s interesting Sketches of Himalayan Folk Lore, are\nthe only ones that have been already given to the public.\n\nWe know that long ages of companionship with man have made the dog our\nfellow in sympathy and intelligence in a way that is impossible to any\nother member of the brute creation. Yet even he has not lost the marks\nof the old wild life that was once his. But it is a long step back\nfrom the inmate of our twentieth century home, where the surroundings\ngiven by advancing civilisation and moral development have the marks\nof ages of progress, to the primeval conditions of the life of our\nfavourite\u2019s ancestors. Far be it from me to dogmatise as to what those\nold conditions of life were. They are lost in the obscurity of the\npast, and we listen with respect when men of science tell us of the\nconditions that obtained in bygone ages, though not always with entire\nacceptance of the inferences they draw.\n\nFew, however, will dispute the probability that the ancestor of the\ndog--wolf, jackal, or of whatever type he may have been--lived in a\npack and thus had the aids of community life to train his intelligence\nand fit him for the struggle of existence among his fellows. It is\nonly the question of his mental development that concerns us here, and\nwe have authority for saying that a higher development of intelligence\nobtains among the members of a community than among those who in\nsolitary freedom meet the dangers and fight the difficulties of life\nwithout such help from others of their kind.\n\nIn the study of jackals, of wolves and of hounds that hunt in packs, we\nsee the clearest traces of the old life lived in the forests and the\nplains, where man had not as yet entered into a struggle with nature on\nhis own account. We find now, as in the past, evidence of the sympathy\nthat is at the root of all social instincts, governing the life of the\ncommunity. Without the loyalty to a recognised code of conduct and\nmorals, that may be said to be the foundation of social life, no body\nof animals living a common life could survive. Where there is community\nof interests there must be a common working for the general good, or\nthe band will be scattered and fall a prey to its enemies. But the\nsympathy that is quick to warn of coming trouble and give assistance\nwhen misfortune has fallen, to help the weak and to encourage the\nwavering, links the members of a society together in the strongest\npossible bonds. It is this that will strengthen them collectively to\nwithstand attacks against which individually they will have no chance.\nSuch a tie must have enabled the ancestors of our domestic dogs to\npreserve life and to hand on a position in the tribal company to their\noffspring.\n\nThe training the dog had received as a member of the pack, when man\nrough and uncivilised as he then was, became his companion in the\nstruggle for life, was the source of his value to the human. In\nhunting, in the guarding of his master\u2019s property, the dog found\nhis place in the life of his owner, and since those early days of\nassociation in the wilds, the rise and progress of the human race\nhas marked the gradual amelioration of the condition of the dog. It\nis sounding a high note, perhaps, to say that the history of the\ndevelopment of canine intelligence has advanced step by step with the\nhistory of the civilisation of the human race. Yet I venture to think\nthat the facts bear out the statement.\n\nIn the rude life of our forbears the dog was primarily valuable in the\ndaily quest for food, and as the conditions of life were rough and\nuncertain for his master, so also were they for him. Yet the dog had\nreached another stage of life from the days when in the primeval pack\nhe had roved the forests untouched by the influence of man. Obedience\nto the customs of the canine clan had given place to the service and\ncompanionship of the human master, and from this point his history is\nclosely woven with the fortunes of the human race.\n\nNot only were his speed and scenting powers made use of in the chase,\nbut his courage and fidelity were recognised and valued in the\nprotection of his master\u2019s home. A step further in the course of the\ndomestication of the dog, and we find that his mental development is\nsubject to varying influences as his powers are used primarily as a\nguardian or as a hunter. The sheep dog and the guardian of the house\nare brought more directly under the influence of their owner\u2019s home\nlife, while the dog used chiefly for hunting remains more under the\nconditions of his primeval state. Yet the hunting dogs, of which the\nhounds of to-day are the representatives, were also subject to the will\nand to a certain extent followed the rise in fortune of their masters.\nIt is among these members of the canine race that we must look for\nthe community life that is the modern rendering of their old tribal\nconditions.\n\nWith the spread of civilisation, and above all with the rise of\nChristianity, the dog came gradually to be recognised as having claims,\nnot only on his master\u2019s forbearance, but as possessing rights of his\nown in the common life of master and servant. The faithful creature\nwho showed such wonderful aptitude in guarding his master\u2019s flock in\nthe field, and was such a sympathetic and intelligent companion in his\nhome, had a claim to be treated with the kindness and consideration\nthat was due from his owner to all--whether man or beast--who gave him\nfaithful service.\n\nWe have only to compare the position of the dog among Mohammedans or\nHindoos in the present day with the conditions of his life in England\nand America to see what Christianity has done for him indirectly. He is\nsaved from needless suffering, tended in sickness, and housed and fed\nso that his physical and mental powers can reach their highest point\nof development. He thus attains a far higher level in the life history\nof his race than is possible to his half-starved, cowed, and miserable\nbrothers in Eastern lands.\n\nTo the Mohammedan he is an unclean creature, and by him is treated with\na disregard of the amenities of intercourse between man and beast that\ngoes far to make him the outcast in mind and manners that he is in the\nconditions of his outward life. The tumultuous troop of pariahs that\nrush out from an Indian village, to the discomfort of the English rider\nenjoying his morning gallop, show in appearance and disposition marks\nof the neglect in which their life from its earliest day is passed.\nWith the Hindoo the dog is safe from active ill treatment, and while in\nhealth and strength may share the conditions of his master\u2019s life. But\nwhen sickness, or accident, or old age overtakes him, not a hand will\nbe lifted in his service. Though some simple, timely aid might save\nthe poor brute nameless suffering, and even give him years in which to\nserve his master in the future as he has done in the past, his Hindoo\nowner will show the fatalistic indifference to his sufferings that is\none of the marks of the followers of his strange creed. The dog\u2019s time\nhas come, and the man who will vex his soul if inadvertently he crush\nthe life from the tiniest of creeping insects, will show a perfect\ndisregard of the claims of the animal who has served him with all the\nlove and fidelity of his heart and the strength of the best years of\nhis life.\n\nBut in Western lands where Christian ethics have put the finishing\ntouch to the gentler influences of a progressive state of civilisation,\nthe dog\u2019s rights as a living, sentient being are regarded as they\nnever have been in the course of the world\u2019s history. True, there are\nbright spots in the past as there are direful blemishes in the present,\nthat on the one hand bring discredit on the vaunted progress of human\ndevelopment, and on the other throw the glamour of a strange acceptance\nof moral responsibility to the dumb creation on the men of far-off\ndays, but these are the exceptions that go to prove the truth of the\ngeneral statement.\n\nAs man advances in civilisation and grows more restrained in the habits\nand manners of his life, his mind develops, and one of the first\nsigns of his progress is his respect for life as such. The dog, as his\nconstant companion, feels most, in the realm of animal life, the change\nin his masters outlook. He is treated with ever increasing gentleness\nand comprehension. For as one sign of a mind of low type, or of a low\norder of development is an incapacity for sympathy with an intelligence\neither lower or higher than its own, so with the expanding powers of\nman\u2019s mind he is able more and more to enter into the workings of his\ndog\u2019s mind. As his own powers of sympathy and insight grow larger and\ndeeper, he awakens an ever increasing response from the answering\nechoes in the dog\u2019s mind. Here then we may bear in mind that if the dog\nhad not the inherent capacity to respond, there could be no channel of\ncommunication with the larger outlook of the human mind as developed in\nman.\n\nBut if the development of human and canine intelligence has each in its\ndegree and order followed the same line, the mental characteristics of\nthe two races must be akin. It is only, indeed, from the starting-point\nof reading our own processes of mind into the mind of our humble\nfriend that we can form the slightest conception of the meaning of his\nactions, which in their expression so closely resemble our own under\nthe same conditions. Surprise, anger, joy, grief, resentment, and the\nemotions that go to make up the round of our own daily experience, find\ntheir counterparts in the dog. It is from analogy with the states of\nmind that in our own case evoke these expressions that we reason of\nthe feelings and impulses that stir the mind of the dog and give rise\nto similar manifestations of feeling. On no other ground can we even\nattempt to fathom the workings of his mind.\n\nIf then the dog be our kinsman in the realm of mind, though his\nstanding be on a lower level than our own, are we not bound, in\nreturn for the unwavering devotion he shows us, to give him the best\nguardianship and care that our own higher powers give us the means of\nusing for his benefit? It is to the realisation of this truth that I\nhope my studies of the dog may help.\n\nHaving thus stated the views with which I approach the study of the\ndog\u2019s mind and character, I must turn for a moment to the sources from\nwhich I have drawn the anecdotes that have given me the materials on\nwhich I have worked.\n\nOf the five Life Stories that form the First Book, \u201cThe Child of the\nHouse\u201d was my own devoted companion for over twelve years. Of the other\ndogs that I have selected for fuller notice, Bruce, \u201cThe Diplomatist,\u201d\nwas the property of Mr. T. F. Dale, whose writings on animals and sport\nare well known both in England and America. Bandy, \u201cThe Professor,\u201d\nbelonged to Mr. H. Richardson, who was senior master at Marlborough\nSchool, where Bandy\u2019s merry little life, though not untouched by\ntragedy, was passed. Jack, \u201cThe Soldier of Fortune,\u201d was owned by Miss\nSerrell, whose life-long love of dogs and horses is shown in her book\n\u201cWith Hound and Terrier in the Field.\u201d Miss Helen Dale was the mistress\nof Jet, \u201cThe Artistic Thief,\u201d one of a long line of fascinating little\nspaniels that have been among her home friends.\n\nWhen I come to the subject of the many shorter anecdotes that have\nbeen given me so freely, not only by my personal friends, but by many\nwhom I have never had the pleasure of meeting, I can only say that my\ngratitude is very great for the kindly help afforded me from all sides.\nWithout the numberless stories told me by Miss Serrell, I could never\nhave hoped to collect enough for the purposes of the book. To her and\nto Miss Helen Dale I also owe special thanks for reading the proofs for\nme and making many valuable suggestions.\n\nMiss Dale has also given me many shorter stories, and her brother,\nMr. T. F. Dale, has done the same. Others who have contributed to my\nlittle store, and have most kindly lent me photographs of many of the\ndogs mentioned, are Mrs. Arthur Dugdale, Miss Rose Southey, Mrs. Bruce\nSteer, and Miss Edith Gilbertson, and through these friends I would\nconvey my thanks to the strangers who have helped me at their request.\n\n                                                      FRANCES SLAUGHTER.\n\nMARCH, 1907.\n\n\n\n\nBOOK I\n\nLIFE HISTORIES\n\n\n\n\nTHE \u201cONE DOG\u201d AND \u201cTHE OTHERS\u201d\n\n\n\n\nTHE CHILD OF THE HOUSE\n\n  \u201c_I have lost many a friend, but never one\n  So patient, steadfast, and sincere as he--\n  So unforgetful in his constancy._\u201d\n\n\n\u201cThe One\u201d of all dogs for me was a long, low Skye of the old-fashioned\ndrop-eared kind. In breed and build he was just what I had always said\nI would _not_ have as a house dog, yet I never regretted the weakness\nthat forbade me to send the forlorn little stranger away. He had no\neventful history, and though I am persuaded that no other of his kind\nwas ever quite so intelligently sympathetic and altogether lovable as\nhe, I have nothing to relate of him that \u201cThe Others\u201d will not outdo at\nevery turn. Yet for me he is the one apart, and his memory has all the\nfragrance of richest perfumes from friendship\u2019s garden.\n\nIt is in his life, and in those of my friends\u2019 dogs, whose life\nhistories I have written, that I have found the data for such thoughts\nand fancies concerning our relations with the dog, and of the various\npleasures, pains, and obligations that result therefrom, which I hope\nmy readers may share with me.\n\nThe summer in which Mr. Gubbins came to me, I had a lady staying with\nme, who was also a great lover of dogs. A brother of this friend it\nwas, who brought the little aristocrat with the strangely incongruous\nname to ask a temporary shelter, while his owner looked out for a\nsuitable home for him. This man, another keen dog-lover, had seen\nand admired the beautiful young Skye at a country house where he was\nstaying. He made friends with the timid, shy animal, who belonged to no\none in particular in the house, and when the visitor left, the terrier\nwas offered to him. He could not find it in his heart to refuse, so he\nbrought it to his sister to take care of. I may say that at the time\nI had a Basset hound and a bulldog, both of which slept in my room at\nnight\n\nWhen this friend came into my study, where his sister and I were\nsitting, my astonishment was great to see a long, grey, hairy creature,\nof which nothing could be distinguished but his magnificent coat, slip\nin at the door behind the visitor. After a short pause, during which\nthe bright eyes hidden behind a cloud of hair were doubtless taking\nin the bearings of the situation, the terrier made straight for the\nlong, low chair at the further end of the room, where I was sitting,\nand curled himself up behind it. My other dogs were in the garden, and\nthere was no one to dispute the refuge with him. He submitted quietly\nto caresses, but was evidently so frightened that he was soon left in\npeace, while the reason of his advent was explained.\n\n[Illustration: THE CHILD OF THE HOUSE\n\nGUBBINS]\n\nHe had gone as a puppy to his late owners, from his breeder Mr.\nPratt, whose long-haired Skyes were at one time well known in Hyde\nPark, where their master took them for their daily exercise. These dogs\nwere bred with the nicest care, and the strain that came from Lady\nAberdeen\u2019s kennels had been preserved. Pratt, who was a butler, living\nwith a family on the Bayswater side of the Park, was devoted to his\ndogs, but as he could not keep a great number of them, and doubtless\nlooked to making his hobby a profitable investment, the puppies were\nsold at a remunerative price.\n\nIn the case of my own favourite, he had gone early to his country home,\nand, not having been trained to the house, he was put in the charge\nof a gamekeeper to have his education completed. This man, whose very\nname I do not know, had little idea of the gentleness required for\nsuccessful training. He was harsh and ill-tempered, and the shy, wild\nlittle creature, who all his life long was one of the most sensitive of\nhis kind, was years before he recovered from the experiences of those\nearly months. He was cowed and frightened, and, not having the bright\nmerry little ways of puppyhood, he won no favour from any member of the\nfamily when he was sent up to the house with his first hard experience\nof life behind him. He crawled about the grounds by himself, and only\nasked to be left alone and unnoticed, so that he might escape the rough\nusage that he associated with intercourse with the superior being. The\nlong grey form was creeping over a wide expanse of lawn, looking a\ndejected enough specimen of his race, when the visitor saw him from his\nbedroom window, and was struck by his great beauty. When Gubbins left\nwith his new owner he accepted the experiences of the journey by road\nand rail with the dejected submission that only gradually gave place to\na real joy in living as he began to forget what harsh words and blows,\nand the chilling guardianship of kindly but unloving owners, were like.\n\nFor the first weeks he was regarded as my visitor\u2019s property, and for\na few nights he slept in her room. But in spite of this, and of the\nconstant presence of my own dogs with me, he attached himself to me\nfrom the first. He spent long hours curled up behind my study chair,\nor, if he could gain entrance to my bedroom, he would lie contentedly\nunder the bed. I took very little notice of him, as I did not wish to\nbecome fond of him, and was only anxious that he should find a good\nhome before my visitor left me. But very soon Gubbins would follow the\nother dogs when they rushed up or downstairs in front of me, and he and\nthe Basset being of unusual length of body and shortness of limb, my\nfriend always used to call the procession, \u201cdog by the yard.\u201d Gubbins\nwas so quiet and harmless that the others from the first seemed to\naccept him as not worth disputing with. When I was busy in my study I\nsoon got into the habit of putting down my hand to pat the little hairy\nball that was sure to be within reach, for the garden gambols of the\nother dogs had as yet no attraction for him. Then one night he got into\nmy room, and was so reluctant to be taken off to his usual quarters\nthat he was allowed to stay, and from that time to almost the end of\nhis long life he never slept away from me when I was at home.\n\nBy the time my friend\u2019s visit came to an end I had begun to wonder\nif I could ever give him up. As no suitable home offered, and the\nweeks passed, Gubbins carried the citadel by assault by reason of an\nillness he had at the very time I had a friend seriously ill in the\nhouse. Between my duties in the sick-room I made hurried visits to\nthe suffering dog, who spent his time by the now deserted chair in my\nstudy. He would eat nothing but what I gave him, and by his touching\ntrust in, and affection, for me he fairly won my heart.\n\nIt was not long after this that Gubbins had his first and only taste of\nshow life. I had been asked to support a dog show in the neighbourhood,\nand consequently entered him and another of my dogs, Gubbins at that\ntime being about three years old. On the morning of the show, he was\ntaken and delivered over to the authorities, as I was not able to go\nmyself till later in the day. When I entered the show ground I made\nmy way at once to the place where the Skyes were benched, but could\nsee nothing of my dog. The attendants could give me no tidings of\nhim, and it was a kindly stranger who, overhearing my inquiries, at\nlast told me he had seen a Skye in the pet dog section of the show,\nand he added, \u201cthe sooner he was taken away he thought the better.\u201d I\nhastened to act on the suggestion, and to my great annoyance found my\npoor Gubbins, looking the picture of misery, benched in a place only\nlarge enough for a dog half his length and size. He was, indeed, so\nstiff and cramped when I took him out that he could hardly stand. The\nman in charge of the benches was quite deaf to my assertion that it\nwas cruelty to put a dog in a place so obviously unfit for him, and in\nspite of the absurd mistake that had been made he tried to refuse to\nallow me to move him. To this, not unnaturally, I paid no heed, but\ntaking Gubbins with me I told the man I would see the secretary about\nthe matter. When I found this functionary, a much harassed individual,\nwho seemed far from being at home at his duties, I was told curtly\nthat he supposed the mistake was mine in entering the dog for a wrong\nclass! In any case it was against the rules of the show for a dog to be\ntaken from the benches until the judging was over. Nevertheless Gubbins\ndid not return to his martyrdom, and it took him many days to recover\nfrom the effects of the combined foolish treatment, and the terror he\nhad suffered at finding himself among strangers. I decided that any\nhonours he might win would be dearly bought, as it was clear his early\nexperiences had made him unfit for show life, and I always refused to\nlet him try his fortune again.\n\nMy other dogs were sent to new homes when I gave up my house, but\nGubbins became a great traveller, and accompanied me everywhere in the\nwanderings of the next few years. At first he was quiet as a mouse\nwhen taken by carriage or train, and I had no anxiety as to his ever\nwandering from me, even in the most crowded thoroughfares. But as\nhis nature recovered its tone, and a bright, joyous, and independent\noutlook on life became habitual to him, he grew wilful and over\nconfident that my protection was sufficient to rescue him from any\ntrouble. Yet he was three months in my house before he lost the habit\nof keeping himself hidden from view, and was, as I have said, always\nconcealed behind or under some article of furniture. The slightest\naccidental touch of a foot, even the gentlest, was enough to make him\nflee in terror, and for hours afterwards he would not come out from his\nshelter, or respond to any caresses. Almost to the end of his life,\nuntil sight and hearing were impaired, he always rushed into the most\nsecluded corner he could find whenever strangers came into the room,\nand no blandishments would draw him out while they remained.\n\nI thought at first that his spirit had been so utterly broken that\nhe would never recover, but would always need the care lavished on a\nsemi-invalid. But gradually and surely he began to show the natural\nfearlessness of his disposition and the bright playfulness that\nafterwards distinguished him. Little by little he gained courage, and\nsecured his place as first favourite in the house. I do not think,\nhowever, that he was ever quite happy while the other dogs remained,\nthough he thoroughly enjoyed his daily scamper with them.\n\nAfter his first illness he would never feed in the outhouse where the\ndogs\u2019 dinner was made ready for them. Daily complaints came to me that\nGubbins would not touch his food, and though if I went out and petted\nand encouraged him he would begin to eat heartily, the instant I turned\naway he stopped, and no one could induce him to take another mouthful.\nI said sternly that he must be left till natural hunger forced him to\ngive up the fancy, and it was only when I found how thin and weak he\nwas getting that one day I ordered his previously rejected food to be\nbrought into the dining room. The bowl was put down on a newspaper,\nspread out for a tablecloth. Gubbins watched the proceedings with\ninterest, and then with much tail wagging, fell on the food with a will\nand quickly disposed of it. Never after this did he attempt to go near\nthe other dogs when they were feeding, but at breakfast time curled\nhimself up near the spot where his bowl had been placed, and waited\ntill it was brought to him. That I do not shine as a disciplinarian\nwith my pets must, I fear, after this be conceded, for there are\ndrawbacks to feeding a long-haired dog on your dining-room carpet. It\nonly needed a day or two to show Gubbins that manners in the house were\nnot quite on a level with those of the dogs\u2019 feeding-place. As soon as\nthe last mouthful of food was disposed of, a kennel duster was brought\ninto play to remove the remains of the meal from the long hair about\nthe mouth and at the tips of the beautiful ears. After the first time\nor two he showed his appreciation of the new r\u00e9gime by standing quietly\nwith his head over the dish where he had just finished eating, and if\nhe was not attended to immediately he would look round to see the cause\nof the delay.\n\nHis enormously thick coat required the most careful daily grooming,\nand the time spent on this was not an unmixed pleasure to Gubbins. For\nsome time he submitted quietly, as he did to everything else that was\nasked of him, but by the time he had won his place in the dining room,\nand the kitchen regions had become unknown ground to him, he sometimes\nshowed resentment at the treatment his tangled locks entailed on him.\n\nThe first serious difference of opinion I had with him came over his\nrefusing a piece of toast he had asked for at breakfast. As he had\nasked for it, he must be made to eat it. But each time the usually\ncoveted dainty was put before him his tongue came out, and with a\ncontemptuous flick sent it rolling over the floor. He was told it must\nbe eaten, and a mutinous determination not to obey was shown in the\npose of his head, for one can hardly speak of expression where the\nface, even to the eyes, was entirely covered with thick, falling hair.\nBut the whole contour of his form expressed a great refusal, and it was\nfelt that a lesson of obedience must be given.\n\nWhen the meal came to an end the toast was again offered and rejected,\nand before I left the room Gubbins was fastened to the leg of the\ntable, and I told him the toast must be eaten before he would be\nreleased. While the maid was clearing away the breakfast things Gubbins\nlay perfectly quiet, but as soon as he found himself shut in alone he\nbegan to call and struggle. I went in more than once to see if the\ndispute was at an end, but no, there lay the rejected morsel, and\nGubbins would have none of it. When the hour arrived for the daily\nwalk great sounds of unrest came from the room, and once more looking\nin I found, to my astonishment, the dog had actually succeeded in\ndragging the fairly large dining table quite out of its place, in the\ndirection of the door. A chorus of angry barks showed his displeasure,\nbut there still lay the uneaten toast. At this moment, while the door\nwas standing open, the other dogs came into the hall on their way out.\n\u201cIs Gubbins to come with us?\u201d asked their guardian. \u201cNo,\u201d I answered.\n\u201cIf he will not eat the toast he must be left at home.\u201d\n\nBehind the bundle of hair I could just see two bright eyes fixed on my\nface. The front door opened, and the other dogs rushed out. Gubbins\nsat up, listening intently, and when he found the others were actually\ngoing without him he looked round for the object of contention, flung\nhimself upon it, swallowed it, and then rushed barking to the end of\nhis tether, demanding to be set free. Needless to say this was done,\nbut the excited, quivering dog turned for one second to give my hand a\ndainty, propitiatory lick before he rushed off wildly in pursuit of the\nothers.\n\nThe lesson was remembered, but all through life, from this\npoint, a wilful determination to have his own way was one of his\ncharacteristics. This I attribute to the reaction from the harsh\ntreatment of his early days, and though it is probable that with\nfirmer discipline it might have been overcome, I found it impossible\nto resort to harsh measures when he was only just coming out from the\nshell of nervous dread that had seemed to wrap him round from all the\nenjoyments of life. I fear I hailed the first exhibitions of will as\nan indication of his recovery to a normal state. A sharp word from me,\nif given at a sufficiently early stage, would always restrain him, but\nto others he was not so obedient, and I fear soon learned to trade on\nthe fact that under no circumstances would he be beaten. A flick of a\nhandkerchief he took with stoicism from others, but from my hands it\nhad all the effect of a stronger punishment. He would crawl away, and\nlie, a picture of dejection, for an hour or more. He was left to feel\nhimself in disgrace, until he would presently come creeping to my feet\nfor the pat of forgiveness that restored him to life and animation.\n\nHis devotion to me never wavered, and after each of his severe\nillnesses I thought I saw a closer attachment show itself in many ways.\nWhat, perhaps, was the greatest proof of his unwavering loyalty was\nthat during the last six months of his life, when he was sixteen years\nof age, nearly blind and partially deaf, and in a state that required\nhim to be carried up and downstairs, and otherwise attended to, I was\nnot able to have him in my room at night, and his care passed greatly\ninto the hands of others. To his guardians he was very affectionate,\nand especially to the friend who watched over him with the most devoted\ncare, and to whom Gubbins looked for the greatest enjoyment of his\nlife--his daily walk. But there could be no doubt in the mind of any\none who was with him, that no one was likely to displace his mistress\nfrom the warmest corner of his heart.\n\nHe always showed the nicest appreciation of the capacity and duties of\nthose who took care of him. When he was already so feeble that he was\ngenerally carried from one room to another, I was astounded to find\nhe realised that I was not strong enough to do this. His knowledge\nwas all the more extraordinary because when in stronger health, I had\nbeen in the habit of lifting and carrying him on occasions. But one\nnight when the maid who always carried him into the dining room, and\nfor whom he waited as a matter of course if she was not there when I\nwent to dinner, was absent, Gubbins came out of his basket as soon as I\nmoved and crawled into the other room after me. The following night his\nattendant was at home, so Gubbins stayed quietly in his basket as usual\ntill she came to fetch him. Often afterwards the same thing happened,\nand during the whole of the time after his powers had failed he never\nonce appealed to me to lift him. He would make the most determined\nefforts to mount the garden steps if I was with him, though he never\nattempted to do so if he was with any one else, but would lie down and\nwait to be fetched if he was not lifted at once.\n\nAt one time when I had him in lodgings, the maid who attended on him\nwas with me, and always carried him up and down the two flights of\nstairs that led to my bedroom. When the maid was going home for a\nmonth\u2019s holiday I wondered what I should do with him. I did not think\nhe could get up by himself, and did not want to call a strange maid\nto my assistance. At bed-time I went to the stairs as if I expected\nhim to follow me, and the little thing worked his way up with a\nsideways motion after me, stopping on the landing for a rest, and then\nfinishing the journey. In the morning he followed me down, though this\nwas really a dangerous proceeding, and I had to prevent his taking a\nroll to the bottom by holding him up with his lead fastened to his\ncollar. This performance was repeated as a matter of course every night\nand morning for the month, and when the maid returned I told her that\nGubbins had learned to go upstairs by himself, and that while he could\ndo so I preferred him not to be carried. When she came to fetch him,\ntherefore, for the night, she told him to follow her, and he went out\nof the room after her obediently. At the foot of the stairs, however,\nhe laid down, and turning a deaf ear to her calls he quietly waited for\nher to come back and pick him up.\n\nThat under any circumstances Gubbins could refuse his walk I did not\nbelieve, till one day I found him lying on the front doorstep, and\nrefusing to move at the entreaties of his prospective companion, the\nreason being that he had discovered I was about to leave the house.\nThis was when he had been with me about a year, for up to that period\nhe had shown himself equally willing to go out with me or any other of\nhis friends. After this he would never go until he was sure that I was\nnot going out, and many a time he insisted on being let into my study\nto see if I was there, before he would leave the house. If nothing in\nmy dress suggested a walk he would go off and immediately give himself\nup to the joys of the coming expedition. When at one time I used to\ngo out in the early morning before breakfast, at a certain stage in\nmy dressing operations Gubbins would always come up to investigate\nwhat boots and skirt I had on. If his sensitive little nose told him\nthose were in use that he connected with a walk, he began to bark and\njump round me, as if wild with joy, for he knew that he would go too.\nBut if he recognised the skirt in which I usually cycled he crept away\ndejectedly, for on these occasions I always left him at home. Although\nhis speed would have enabled him to keep up easily with the bicycle, I\nhave always thought it mistaken kindness to allow a dog to go at the\nstretch of his powers while he keeps in touch with carriage or bicycle,\nas the prolonged tension is likely to injure the natural action of\nheart and lungs.\n\nOne day, when there was illness in the house, the volley of barks and\nwild gambols with which Gubbins showed his joy at an approaching walk\ncould not be allowed. I felt a little doubtful if the exuberance of\nhis joy could be kept within due limits, and in any case I knew I was\nthe only person likely to be able to restrain him. When the moment\narrived for putting this to the test I knelt down by him, and turning\nhis little head up I put my finger on my lips and in a low, hushed\nvoice told him he must be quiet. He saw I was dressed for walking and\nknew what was in store. He was, however, evidently impressed, and\nopening the room door quickly I cautioned him again, and to my great\nrelief only one little half strangled bark escaped before we were\nsafely outside the hall door. Yet he tore down the stairs in his usual\nheadlong manner when excited, and was quivering with eagerness for the\ncoming joy.\n\nAfter this I was always able to make him go out quietly by the same\nmeans, and in a house where he stayed with me for some weeks he\nlearned that under no circumstances was barking allowed indoors. He\nconsequently won golden opinions from the old lady whose feelings he\nthus spared. But that he felt the long restraint irksome, he would show\nby a petulant twist of his head from under my hand, when I made one\nof my many appeals to him to remember the caution. His self control\nhappily lasted to the end of the visit, though I never felt inclined to\nput it to the same test again.\n\nIt was one of the most interesting studies I have ever had, to watch\nthe gradual unfolding of Gubbins\u2019s mind as he threw off the terrors of\nthe past. His strong affection was, as I have said, the first point\nthat showed itself. Then his intelligent appreciation of the ways of\nthe household, and his own place in it, was little by little made\nplain, and with it came the manifest determination to stand on his\nrights. It was not, however, till he had been with me for some four\nyears that he began the system of signs and sounds that stood to him in\nthe place of language.\n\nThere were certain biscuits kept for Gubbins as a treat when he had\nbehaved with decorum in the dining room, where he used to lie in a\ncorner during meals. These biscuits were known in the household as\n\u201cPeter Burrs,\u201d owing to the correction given me in the matter of\npronunciation by a worthy country grocer, when I stated my wish for\n\u201cPetits Beurres.\u201d The tin containing these dainties was generally\ntaken from the sideboard by one of ourselves, just before we left the\ntable. Gubbins was always all attention, and at the movement to fetch\nthe tin, he would come out of his corner and bark rapturously. But one\nday a friend brought me the wrong tin by mistake, and Gubbins, who had\nbeen all eagerness as usual to watch for its advent, sat down quietly\nand did not attempt to come up for the usual offering. It was this\nconduct that led me to notice the mistake that had been made, for the\ntins were almost alike in size, though different in colour. The dog\u2019s\nappreciation of the mistake before we had recognised it, caused such\namusement that while this friend was staying with me she often tested\nGubbins\u2019s discernment by bringing out the wrong tin purposely. Never\nwas he deceived, though one day he rushed up and barked once before he\nnoticed the tin, but as soon as he saw it he sat down and waited for\nthe mistake to be rectified.\n\nIt was when he stole to my side during luncheon, and made his presence\nknown by a delicious little low sound of entreaty, that his language\nsounds began. I was so delighted with the effort that I took to making\nhim say it before he had one of his much loved biscuits given to him.\n\u201cAsk, Gubbins,\u201d he was told, and the little entreating sound came as\na preliminary to business. Very soon he learned to use the signal to\ndraw attention to any want, such as the need for water, or the opening\nof a door. Whenever his water dish was empty Gubbins would first call\nattention to the fact by lying full length in front of it, with his\nhead touching the dish. If this did not succeed he would look round\nto see why he was not being attended to, and if I was--or pretended\nto be--wholly immersed at my writing table he would cry quietly to\nhimself,--a little complaining noise that could not be overlooked in\nits gentle persistence. Once or twice I tested him further to see what\nwould happen, and when Gubbins found that my denseness was not to be\npierced by any ordinary means he came up to me and, resting his head\nagainst me, \u201casked.\u201d Then he walked back to his water dish and lay down\nas before. That here there was a very intelligent adaptation of means\nto end is evident.\n\nThe daily bone thrown to Gubbins was of course a great delight, and\nonce I tried the same experiment that Mr. Herbert Spencer made with\nhis Skye, and with the same result. A string was fastened to the bone\nand Gubbins had his usual play with it, a necessary part of which\nwas for him to stand growling over it and dare any of his friends to\ntake it from him. This nearly always brought some one on to the lawn\nto play the part of robber. It was enough for one of his friends to\nadvance gently towards him saying, \u201cIs that for me, Gubbins?\u201d for the\nlittle thing to seize it in his mouth and run to a distant part of the\nlawn, where the performance was repeated. If his friends did not go on\nplaying the game I have known Gubbins to leave his bone and come to ask\nthem to see it out, and only when his spirits had exhausted themselves\nwould he settle down to the enjoyment of the dainty, secure in the\nknowledge that no one would be allowed to interfere with business.\nBut to return to the experiment. Gubbins was just settling down to the\nserious part of the performance when I pulled the string and drew the\nbone gently away. Gubbins gave a startled look at it as it receded\nslowly, then as it lay still he approached with every sign of caution\nand stretched out one fat paw. Still there was no movement, and relief\nand confidence were now expressed in his bearing. Then I jerked the\nbone to some distance. Gubbins fairly turned tail and fled to me for\nprotection. The sense of the unknown, conditions of which he had no\nprevious experience, terrified him, as did the growling of thunder or\nthe presence of strangers in his own home.\n\nIn matters where Gubbins was on known ground his courage was beyond\ndispute and often brought him into peril. No dog was too large or\ntoo strong to call forth hostile demonstrations, if he happened to\nexcite his ire. I well remember the horror with which, on hearing the\nwell-known rush and growl that signalised Gubbins\u2019s dislike of another\ndog, I turned to see the ridiculous little creature hanging on to the\nnose of a huge St. Bernard. With one angry toss of his mighty head the\nlarger dog could have broken the spine of his tormentor. Happily the\nmonster seemed too astonished at the onslaught of the hairy mass to do\nanything beyond give a very gentle swaying motion of the head, which\nswung Gubbins\u2019s long body from side to side; for even hanging as the\nlatter was at full length, his hind limbs were well off the ground,\nand he must have made one of his marvellous springs to fasten on the\nhead as he did. Presently his teeth loosened and he dropped from his\nperilous perch, and he certainly owed his life to the remarkable\ngentleness of his victim.\n\nBefore Gubbins had walked off his excess of spirits in exercise he\noften gave these mad rushes, sometimes, I grieve to say, at humans. Any\nunsavoury specimen of the genus tramp always roused his mischief, and\nso, alas! did any gentle, fragile looking old lady or gentleman who\ncould be depended on to receive his onslaught with a sufficient display\nof terror to make it worth while. Many were the scrapes from which he\nwas not always rescued with the honours of war, and countless were the\napologies made on his behalf. But after his maddest exploit the absurd\nlittle bundle of hair would come meekly to my feet, and generally by\nhis very appearance disarm the sufferers. At such a moment caresses\nfrom the stranger\u2019s hand were suffered with deceptive meekness, and\nwere evidently taken as the necessary consequence of the previous\njoy. That the loud bark which would have fitted a dog ten times his\nsize, and the sudden rush at the heels of a passing stranger, were\nsufficiently alarming, is clear, and a leather lead was soon fastened\npromptly to his collar whenever a human approached who long experience\nhad taught me was one likely to be singled out by Gubbins as a vent for\nhis excitement. His teeth never came into play, and this showed it was\nsimply the fun of the thing that appealed to him, and not the hostile\nfeeling that often prompted his attacks on fellow dogs.\n\nGubbins was the most humanly intelligent of all the dogs I have ever\nowned, and so far as his powers of mind went they appealed perfectly\nto the same level of expression of our own. While his trust and love\nwere unwavering, his sympathy with anything in the shape of suffering\nor sorrow was undoubted. He would never leave me of his own free will,\nif he knew I was in trouble, though it could only have been by the tone\nof my voice that he discovered there was anything amiss. In the case\nof physical illness it was the same, and he would lie for hours on the\nfoot of my bed, to which on these occasions he always \u201casked\u201d to be\npermitted to jump.\n\nThe highest exercise of intelligence he ever showed was prompted by\nhis love, and the amount of reasoning power that led to the successful\ncarrying out of his stratagem shows what a narrow boundary there is\nbetween the highest efforts of the animal mind and those where human\nintelligence begins. I was suffering at the time from malaria, a\nlegacy from a fairly long sojourn in India, and it was decreed by the\nfriend who had taken charge of my sick-room that Gubbins was not to be\nallowed to disturb me. This lady, who was herself one of Gubbins\u2019s most\nfaithful friends, and was regarded by him with the warmest affection,\ntold him after breakfast that he was not to come to me. That he fully\nunderstood what she said he showed by the dejected way in which he\nturned from her and crawled into his basket. The dining-room door was\nthen shut on him, the back stairs were cut off by two heavy doors,\nand the passage from the top of the front stairs led past my friend\u2019s\nbedroom before my own could be reached. From her bedroom, where the\nvisitor sat writing with her door open, she could hear if any of the\nhousehold should go into the dining room and set Gubbins at liberty.\nBesides, the flop, flop with which he always jumped from step to step\nof the stairs was clearly audible over all that part of the house, and\nthis gave her confidence that he could not, in any case, get up without\nher hearing him.\n\nBut the dining-room door had not been fastened securely, and though it\nwas a heavy oak door Gubbins managed to work it open. He then crept\nupstairs without a sound, and therefore in a very different way to that\nin which he usually mounted, stole past the open bedroom door, without\nbetraying his presence, and putting his head close to the crack of my\ndoor gave one of his tiniest \u201casks.\u201d So low was it that the watcher in\nthe adjoining room heard nothing. At first I did not realise what had\nhappened, and thought the voice reached me from a distance. But when a\nrepetition came, the peculiar guarded sound of the faint call struck\nme, and at the third time I knew that by some means Gubbins had found\nhis way to me. Entering into the spirit of the enterprise I opened the\ndoor softly and let him in. Without any of the usual manifestations of\njoy with which he was wont to greet me, he slipped past, and without\nwaiting for the permission he always asked he sprang on the bed and\ncurled himself round with a sigh of content. Then the drowsiness of\nfever overcame me, and I dozed for some hours, Gubbins also sleeping\npeacefully at my feet.\n\nWhen at last my friend appeared, her relief at the sight of the hairy\nbundle on the bed was great. She told me that a search had been made\nfor him all over the place, both indoors and out, as soon as it was\ndiscovered that he had escaped from the dining room. My room had not\nbeen thought of, as she felt certain he could not have come upstairs\nwithout being heard by her.\n\nThe amount of thought and caution exercised by the dog in carrying\nout his plan was remarkable. After making use of the great muscular\nstrength of his sturdy forepaws in getting open the door of his prison,\nhe had to get upstairs in a way that would not betray his presence.\nHow he managed this we could not understand at the time, but years\nafterwards I saw him, when still weak from a severe illness, crawl\nup with a sideways, crab-like motion that explained what he had done\nto attain his ends in the heyday of his youth and strength. Placing\nhis forepaws on the step above him he hitched his hind quarters up\nsideways, as his length could only thus be supported on the step, the\ndepth of the stairs not being more than half his length. In this way\nthere was no noise, but he still had to pass the watcher\u2019s open door\nand convey the fact of his presence to me without letting her know.\nThis accomplished successfully, he did not forget the need for caution\nwhen he had made good his entrance, but with a silent caress to my\nfeet, and much wagging of the tail he left his usual mode of welcome\nseverely alone, and, secure of my understanding and abetting, even took\npossession of one of his most prized rewards, only rarely accorded, by\njumping on to the bed without the preliminaries of permission asked and\ngranted that were always insisted on.\n\nHere he showed a clear appreciation of the difficulties of carrying out\nhis plan, and who shall say what was passing in his brain as he stole\nsoftly upstairs, passed his friend\u2019s open door without disclosing his\npresence, and then, with all the precautions a human could have used,\nsucceeded in communicating with me? Not less remarkably did he show his\nappreciation of the dangers so far conquered, when he exercised needful\nself-restraint in the expression of his greeting, and sank down at last\nwith a sigh of content as he realised that all was well.\n\nWe are told by an eminent writer on the psychology of animals that the\nfeeling of shame stands very high in the development of the emotional\npowers. In Gubbins its manifestation was very apparent. A flick of\nthe handkerchief or a sharp word from me changed his whole aspect in\na second, unless, indeed, the excitement of some forbidden pleasure\nhad taken him in too firm a grip, and the enterprise on which he had\nstarted had to be carried out at all costs. But once the excitement\npassed, shame for his misdeed followed, and was shown in the same way\na child will do in the same circumstances, up to the verge of speech.\nOn one occasion, when I was from home all day, the maid in whose charge\nhe had been left neglected to attend to him. The shame-faced little dog\nthat met me on my return, and who put his head in my hand and cried\nsoftly, told me that some trouble had happened for which he was not to\nblame. In the same way when he was suffering from illness that caused\noccasional attacks of sickness, if by chance he was shut in a room when\nmisfortune overtook him, although he knew he would not be punished\nfor what was not his fault, he could not have shown more shame at the\noccurrence if he had dreaded chastisement.\n\nGubbins was a little gentleman in all his ways and feelings, his one\nlapse from propriety of manners being the rushes by which he helped\nto work off the excitement of his walks. He could always be depended\non to preserve a neutral attitude towards any stranger staying in the\nhouse, if I performed a sort of introduction by putting my hand on my\nvisitor\u2019s arm and telling Gubbins that he or she was my friend. The\nsame course had to be adopted with a new maid, and if a fearless pat\nwas then given him by the new-comer, I knew that as long as that person\nwas in the house there would be no trouble. But if, on the other hand,\nthe slightest fear of him was shown, it behoved me to be careful, for\nif that maid came in his way when he was under the influence of any\nexcitement such as that of his daily walk, there would be the same\nattempts to upset her equanimity by which he distinguished himself out\nof doors. No use of the teeth, but just the communication of his own\nexcitement to one who his instincts told him could be relied on to\nrespond. To secure the clatter of a fallen tray, or the headlong rush\nof a frightened maid downstairs, while he stood growling and barking at\nthe top, as if ready to tear her in pieces, gave him, I grieve to say,\nunder such circumstances, the liveliest enjoyment. But when he was\nshut up to reflect on his misdemeanours, by whatever process these were\nbrought home to him, an unmistakable feeling of shame was displayed as\nsoon as he had recovered his normal state.\n\nThe abject depression with which he crept from view one very wet\nautumn, the first time his long coat was clipped about his legs and\nthe under part of the body, took a long time to recover from. For days\na remark on his appearance, or a laugh at his expense by any visitor,\nwould cover him again with shame. His self-respect had been wounded,\nand the same feeling was shown when he was taken out for a walk the\nfirst time after a severe illness. The poor weak dog could only totter\nalong for a very short distance. But on the way he met another dog, and\nas soon as Gubbins saw him approaching, the change in his demeanour was\ninstantaneous. With head and tail erect, and a general air of alertness\nand strength, he passed his rival, walking on the tips of his toes, as\nhe was wont to do in better times. A few steps carried him triumphantly\npast, and then, the excitement over, the poor little invalid collapsed\nas suddenly as he had pulled himself together, and rolled over helpless\nin the dust. Could any animal without a sense of the ego, the personal\nI, show such a keen sense of the respect due to himself?\n\nA quite marvellous knowledge of time was shown by my favourite. I am\nnot speaking of the hours of feeding, for such knowledge is doubtless\ndue to the promptings of the natural appetite. But how for some months\nhe always knew when the clock pointed to half-past nine I have never\nbeen able to ascertain. A lady who was living with me as my secretary\nat the time was a warm friend of Gubbins, and was accepted by him as\nsuch. This lady was not in good health, and used to retire to bed\nbefore the rest of the party. In about a week Gubbins constituted\nhimself the guardian of her health in this respect. If she did not\nmove promptly at the half hour he roused himself, came out of his\nbasket, and, sitting at her feet, barked until she got up and said\ngood-night. The performance was so much appreciated that after this\nGubbins\u2019s reminder was waited for, and though there was no clock within\nhearing that struck the half hour, nor so far as we knew any sound that\ncould tell the time, Gubbins was never more than a few minutes either\nbefore or after. He would go and sit close at the lady\u2019s feet, lift\nhis head and fix his brown eyes on her face, and bark his signal for\nher to go. There seemed no reason for him to wish her to leave, as no\nsooner had she gone from the room, than he went back to his basket and\ncurled himself up to wait for the dispersal of the other members of the\nfamily. With no one else did he ever do anything of the same kind.\n\nAt one time when I was living in the country, the same inscrutable\nknowledge of the hour of seven in the evening was shown by him. Once or\ntwice he was taken for a run across the valley below the house to the\npost, just before the dinner hour at seven-thirty. After that he was\nalways on the look out at seven o\u2019clock, and as soon as he associated\nthe little expedition with one member of the household, he found him\nout and kept close to him as soon as the hour arrived. Once, when the\ndinner hour had been advanced, the letters were taken earlier, and\nGubbins had not come in from his rambles in the garden and could not\nbe found. He was watching, however, when the messenger returned, and\nshowed that he understood what had happened by taking up his position\nin good time the following day on a point in the drive where the two\nways from the house met, and without passing which no one could leave\nthe place. Often after this he would sit there watching, instead of\ncoming into the house, as he clearly understood that from that spot he\nhad a full command of the situation.\n\nAs the gradual unfolding of Gubbins\u2019s mind had been an unfailing source\nof interest, so was the preservation of his natural characteristics\nwhen his powers began to fail. He enjoyed his life almost to the\nend, and through the last long day of suffering found comfort in the\ncare and affection that were lavished on him. Although for some time\nhis eyesight had almost gone and his hearing was impaired, and other\ndisabilities of old age were upon him, he still went nearly mad with\njoy at the prospect of a walk, still took a certain modified, though\nalways mischievous, pleasure in making others share his excitement, and\nmade his sense of smell serve for the loss of his other faculties in a\nquite marvellous way. He always recognised his old friends, and it was\na characteristic of his throughout life that he never forgot a single\nperson whom he had once accepted as a friend. It might be months or\neven years before he saw them again, but he never failed to recognise\nthem.\n\nVarious were the names bestowed on him by his many friends at different\ntimes. From the absurd \u201cMr. Gubbins,\u201d he was called by the still more\nunsuitable title of \u201cScrub.\u201d This led to a mild joke of a friend\nof mine, who always inquired after him by the formula, \u201cAnd how is\nAmmonia?\u201d A very dear old lady, the mother of the friend through whom\nGubbins came to me, spoke of him as \u201cThe caterpillar,\u201d moved thereto by\nthe sight of the long dark form that used to steal across her drawing\nroom to find a hidden corner, when he was staying with me in her house.\nIn the inner circle of his home he became \u201cThe Hairy Angel\u201d or \u201cThe\nFascinating Fiend,\u201d according to the nature of his disposition at the\nmoment.\n\nBut these names belong to the time of his youth and strength; his\nbeauty he kept to a surprising degree up to the very day of his death.\nIt was touching to see him in his later years, and especially during\nthe last six months when he was all but blind, finding his way about\nthe house by the help of his nose. I have often watched him come into\nmy study when he was looking for me. The room is a double one, and he\nused to feel for the side of the arch that forms the division, then\nfeel about for the couch that stands on one side of the inner room.\nFrom there he touched my bureau, and thence worked about till he found\nmy chair, which was often at some little distance. No sooner did his\nnose touch the chair than he hurried to the front of it to see if I\nwas sitting there, and feeling the full helplessness of continuing his\nsearch if I was not in my usual place, he would curl himself up beside\nit and cry quietly. I have watched him do this while I stood by the\nbookshelves in the back room, though I had to be careful he did not\nfind me out, as he came in by the door in that room.\n\nTo the last the watchful little head would come up in his basket, and\na warning growl give notice of the presence of a stranger, and in his\nfeeble way he guarded his beloved mistress to the end. When the little\nlife went out from the suffering body it left a blank that for those\nwho loved him best can never be filled, but--\n\n  \u201cWhen at last my long day\u2019s work is done,\n  Shall I not find him waiting as of yore,\n  Eager, expectant, glad, to meet me at the door?\u201d\n\n\n\n\nTHE DIPLOMATIST\n\n\u201c_Ung Roy, ung Loy, ung Chien_\u201d\n\n\nBruce, a beautiful black and tan collie, had the appearance of a\ngentleman and the finished manners of one accustomed to the usages\nof society. In the days of his prime he won many honours in the show\nring, though his points were not those required by modern fashion. His\nhead was too broad for present-day judges, but this gave space for the\nbrains that made Bruce the most charming of companions. He was light\nin build, strong, and full of grace and activity, and his beauty he\nretained almost to the end of his life. His colour, as I have said, was\nblack and tan, the latter a bright golden hue, that was very striking.\nHis eyes were clear and brown, and wonderfully expressive, and over\neach was a bright tan spot. His ears were half prick, the points of\nwhich almost met over his forehead, when he stood to attention. His\nruff was magnificent, and had it had the ring of white decreed by\nfashion Bruce would have carried all before him on the show bench. As\nit was, the only touch of white about his coat was at the tip of his\ngrand brush, for to speak of it as a tail seems almost an indignity.\n\n[Illustration: THE DIPLOMATIST\n\nBRUCE]\n\nBut it was the high-bred finish of his manners that won Bruce his many\nfriends. In his home circle he was always gentle and affectionate,\nthough he had the finest grades of distinction in his regard. Any\nmember of the family had a general place in his affections, but that\nunderneath this was a subtle difference in his feelings was shown by\nhis behaviour towards them. To the servants of the house he was always\npolite, and to the older ones who were admitted to the confidence and\nrespect of their employers, he was even affectionate. But he never\ngave them the outbursts of unrestrained affection that in moments of\nexcitement he would shower on his special friends in the family circle.\nBeing a great favourite with the servants, he was always something of a\ntyrant with them, and clearly thought that one of their chief duties in\nlife was to wait on him.\n\nHis politeness to visitors was invariable. If he saw strangers coming\nto the house he would accompany them to the drawing room, and as soon\nas they were seated would gravely offer a beautiful silky paw. In the\nsame way he would be ready, when they took their leave, to escort them\nto the front gate, and there once again offer a paw in farewell. This\nwas always a very taking performance of his, and if the departing\nvisitor, after duly accepting the offered salute, said to him, \u201cThat is\na very cold good-bye, Bruce,\u201d he would instantly offer the other paw in\ntoken of good-will. The strangest thing about his attention to visitors\nwas that no one had instructed him, and it was not till Bruce\u2019s\nhand-shaking was talked of as quite a feature of a call at the house\nthat his master taught him to offer the right paw in salutation. This\nhe learnt as quickly as any other lesson, and with its accomplishment\nthe last touch of polish had been given to Bruce\u2019s society manners.\n\nBruce came from a large kennel when he was two years old. His pedigree\nand former history were unknown, and Bruce started in life with only\nhis good looks, his intelligence, and his perfect manners to depend\non. When he came to his new home he responded instantly to individual\naffection and attention, and showed a very strong sense of his personal\nrights. His master at that time owned another collie, also a house dog,\nwho answered to the name of Lassie. From the day of Bruce\u2019s advent the\ntwo dogs took it in turns to pass the night in their master\u2019s bedroom.\nBruce always respected the arrangement, and on the nights when it was\nnot his turn to have the place of honour he would curl himself up\ncontentedly on the mat put ready for him in the hall; but Lassie would\noften try to steal a march on him. She would lay her plans in advance,\nand creep upstairs before her master retired, and trust to possession\nto bring her through. As soon as Bruce discovered her tactics he would\nrush up after her, and do his best to pull her downstairs. Ejected with\nignominy from the bedroom, Lassie would still make a fight for it, and\nentrenching herself on the landing do her best to stand her ground.\nThe commotion of course attracted their master, who would take Lassie\nby the collar and lead her in disgrace down to her allotted sleeping\nplace in the hall. Bruce would sit smiling at the top of the stairs and\nwatch her down, wagging his tail and giving every sign of complacent\nsatisfaction at having won the day.\n\nIt was in his dealings with humans that Bruce showed his talent in\ndiplomacy. He often paid visits with his master, and never failed to\nbestow the cream of his attention on the most important person present.\nHe singled out his host or hostess and made good his place with them\nbefore he took the slightest heed of any one else. His greatest triumph\nwas during a visit to his master\u2019s grandmother. For some reason his\nowner felt obliged to take him, though the old lady was by no means\nan indiscriminate dog-lover, and was wont to declare that she \u201cliked\ndogs in their proper place.\u201d Many were the talks held in the family\nbefore Bruce\u2019s departure as to what his reception was likely to be.\nDid he understand and take his measures accordingly? The result seemed\nto justify the supposition. In any case, on arriving at the house he\nsettled the matter once for all. Without a word being said to him he\nwent straight to his hostess\u2019s room, and arriving there before his\nmaster he sat down in front of the old lady, and, with a grace that\ninstantly won her heart, offered first one silky paw and then the other\nfor her acceptance. By the time his owner arrived Bruce was reaping the\nfirst fruits of his diplomacy in the petting and admiration of his new\nfriend. Bruce\u2019s \u201cproper place\u201d after that was any spot he chose in the\nhouse, and he was given a warm invitation to repeat his visit when he\nleft.\n\nWhile he was still new to the show bench he exercised his tact, by\ngetting a man he knew to stay by him, as presumably he felt lonely\namong so many strange faces. The man was the village schoolmaster\nnear Bruce\u2019s home, and so far had always been treated with polite\nindifference by him. As the schoolmaster was making a round of the\nbenches he felt a touch on his arm, and there was Bruce with a most\namiable expression of countenance holding out a paw to him. The man\nresponded to the advances made to him, and Bruce, all anxiety to\nplease, managed to make him stay by him till one of his own family\narrived. The reason of his amiability was then apparent, for Bruce\npromptly relapsed into his former indifference, and his visitor was\nallowed to depart without any further notice being taken of him.\n\nWhen Bruce was more used to the show bench he manifested the most\nlively appreciation of having been singled out for honours. If no card\nfell to him he curled himself up on his bench, put his brush over his\nhead, and slept quietly till all was over. But when he had secured a\ncard his demeanour was very different. He sat up with an alert and\nself-satisfied air, and though as a rule he did not make advances to\nstrangers outside his home, he now seemed possessed with a universal\nbenevolence. He always attracted attention, and to all who admired him\nhe instantly offered to shake a paw in the most affable manner. He used\nindeed to hold a lev\u00e9e, and thoroughly enjoyed the unwonted importance\nof his position. So long as he was in the show grounds his general\nfriendliness lasted, but once outside his show manner was dropped and\nhe became chary of notice by strangers.\n\nHe never, however, resented advances being made to him unless he was\nstartled. Being nervous and high strung, any sudden rough movement he\ndisliked, and under such circumstances would give a snap to mark his\ndispleasure. He never used his teeth, for he was by no means uncertain\nin his temper. To other dogs he was usually gentle, but a collie he\nwould always go for. Many were the scrapes he got into in consequence,\nand when his master had cured him of the trick of making the attack, he\nwould invariably pass a collie with such wanton provocation written in\nhis bearing that the other dog, stirred out of his self-control, always\nmade for him.\n\nBruce\u2019s enjoyment of practical jokes was great. When a walk was in\nprospect, his delight was to rush into the hall, and, snatching his\ncollar and lead from their place on the hat-stand, hastily throw them\ninto hiding. A glance at Bruce\u2019s smiling face was enough to tell his\nmaster what had happened. Intense enjoyment was displayed by the\nwatching dog, while a search for the missing collar was made. But\nBruce\u2019s paws were long, and the place he had selected was not always\neasy to find. Then his anxiety for the coming joy of the walk would\ncarry all before it, and moving suddenly to the place of concealment he\nwould seize the collar and fling it at his master\u2019s feet. The superior\nand slightly supercilious way in which he brought to light the hidden\nthing said as plainly as any speech, \u201cIf you are so stupid that you\ncannot find it, I suppose I must help you.\u201d In the summer he would\nsometimes change his tactics, and taking the collar and lead in his\nmouth, would jump a fence or hedge, and lie just out of reach on the\nother side. If the moment for a joke was not well chosen, and there\nseemed any danger of his being left behind to enjoy it by himself, he\nwas speedily at his companion\u2019s feet, asking, with an eloquence none\nthe less to be understood because it was mute, to be forgiven and taken\nout.\n\nHis greatest joy was to have stick or umbrella confided to his care\nduring the walk. Solemnly, and with a great show of appreciating the\nduties of his position, Bruce would walk decorously by the side of the\nowner of his trophy. But not for long. There would be a sudden flash,\nand Bruce would disappear over some obstacle where he could not be\nfollowed, and after a race round the orchard or field into which he\nhad hurled himself, he would reappear with nothing in his mouth. With\nexpectancy written all over him he waited for the order to \u201cGo, seek.\u201d\nObediently he flew the hedge and proceeded to hunt for the missing\nstick. But the result was always the same. He could not find it. Again\nand again the same process would be gone through, and no one could\nlook more guileless than Bruce when he returned to tell of his want of\nsuccess. Sometimes the only way to stop the game was to walk on and\nleave him to himself, on which he would go directly to the spot where\nthe stick was lying hidden, take it up, and go on decorously as before,\ncarrying it in his mouth.\n\nBruce acted as if the secrets of the family circle were an open book\nto him, or at any rate those that concerned himself. As he and Lassie,\nwhatever their private differences, would always unite against a\ncommon foe, their master found his walks disturbed by the frequent\naltercations that arose in the course of them. He announced, therefore,\nthat for the future he would only take out one at a time, and as he\nwas going that day to a town about a mile off, he gave orders that\nBruce was to be shut up before he started. Bruce at the time was lying\nquietly on the hearthrug, and in a short time he got up and went to the\ndoor, and was let out into the garden. His master thought no more about\nhim, and later in the day started for his walk, taking Lassie with him.\nWhen he had almost reached the town he was struck by the resemblance to\nBruce of a dog sitting in the middle of a patch of grass, where three\nroads met. His own way lay past the spot, and he soon found that Bruce\nwas waiting there for him too far from the house to be taken back, and\nthus securing his walk. One of his exploits seems almost beyond the\nrealm of the possible, but I can vouch for the truth of the facts as I\ngive them. His master was in the habit of going away on business, and\nleaving his home on one day, he nearly always returned on the next. On\none occasion, however, he said that he should return the same night,\nand in order to do this he would come by another railway line and\nreach a station he very rarely used, at 10.30. Bruce as usual was with\nhim when he talked of his plans. That evening when Bruce was let out\nfor his evening run he disappeared, to the consternation of the other\nmembers of his family. He was searched for in all directions, but no\ntidings could be heard of him, and great was the rejoicing when at\neleven o\u2019clock he returned. The household had been waiting up for the\nmaster, but he did not arrive. The next day he came back by the way he\nhad intended to come the previous day, and he had no sooner alighted\nfrom the train than one of the porters who knew him came up and said,\n\u201cYour dog was here looking for you last night, sir. He saw the train\nin and seemed to expect you, and when he found you were not here he\nwent off. He would not let any of us touch him.\u201d On arriving at home\nhis master heard of Bruce\u2019s absence the night before, and the chain of\nevidence seemed complete. Not so the explanation. Bruce\u2019s presence at\nthe station was vouched for by a perfectly disinterested person, who\ncould not have known any of the circumstances attending his master\u2019s\njourney. The dog\u2019s absence from home at the time was undoubted, so\nalso was his presence when his master stated his plans, but how it was\nthat Bruce was ready to welcome the expected traveller at the station\nI cannot pretend to explain. It is quite one of the most inexplicable\nefforts of a dog\u2019s intelligence that I have ever met with.\n\nThough for fifteen years Bruce lived with his family, his life was not\nwithout vicissitudes. After a time his master took up an appointment in\nIndia, and Bruce had to be left behind. He passed into the care of his\nmaster\u2019s brother and sister, with whom he was already on affectionate\nterms. In his new home, however, he did not have the first place, as\na very remarkable spaniel was already in possession. Bruce, with his\nusual ready tact, though with chastened feelings, took the second\nplace. The cook in his new home was an old servant, whom he had known\nin his first days of acquaintance with the family. She had indeed\npassed through various stages in the household, and from nursery maid\nin \u201cthe old house\u201d had risen to be cook to the \u201cyoung master and\nmistress.\u201d For Bruce, Harriet had simply a passion. He could never do\nwrong for her, and in return she was decidedly tyrannised over by him.\n\nBut in Nottingham, where Bruce\u2019s lot was now cast, the townspeople\nappreciate a good dog. So one day Bruce disappeared, and all inquiries\nabout him were unavailing. His guardians gave him up, but Harriet never\nlost hope and always declared that he would come home. Every night this\ndevoted woman sat up till the small hours of the morning, watching and\nlistening, and with a saucepan of hot soup ready for the wanderer. On\nthe third or fourth night, she heard a feeble call at the front door,\nand rushing up she found Bruce, with a fragment of dirty rope round\nhis neck. The dog seemed at almost the last stage of exhaustion, and\nstaggering in he was taken to the kitchen fire, and without moving\nfrom his place he lapped up a little warm soup, and slept the sleep of\nexhaustion for twenty-four hours.\n\nWhy he should have been so worn out was never explained, as from\n\u201cinformation received\u201d it turned out that he had spent his time in a\nstreet of small houses not a mile away from his home. His experiences,\nwhatever they may have been, were never forgotten by him, and from\nthat time he showed a disposition to bite every ill-dressed man who\napproached him.\n\nAfter five years\u2019 absence Bruce\u2019s master returned, and Bruce on hearing\nhis voice looked at him attentively and then gave him the modified form\nof affectionate greeting that showed he recognised him as one of the\nfamily. The dog seemed puzzled, and the dim memories that stirred in\nthe back of his mind led him to follow his old master to his bedroom at\nnight. There he lay down quietly, and it was not till his master was\nin bed that the far-off echoes of past days became clear, and with a\ncry Bruce suddenly hurled himself on the bed and covered his astonished\nowner with caresses.\n\nWhen the time came for another long parting Bruce took the matter\nof his future guardianship into his own hands by attaching himself\nso lovingly to his master\u2019s father that his decision was accepted\nwithout demur. Alas, Bruce never saw his master again, for old age and\ninfirmities were upon him, and before another return from India the old\ndog had passed away.\n\nIt was characteristic of Bruce\u2019s sense of the fitness of things that\nwhen he was too old to run with the carriage he still kept up the\nfiction of doing so. He would not give in to the disabilities entailed\nby his failing strength. He always greeted the arrival of the carriage\nat the front door with his old joyous excitement. When it started he\nrushed off bounding and barking as he had always done, but at a certain\npoint in the road, not far from the end of the carriage drive, Bruce\nwas seen to slip quietly through the hedge and disappear. When this\npoint was reached on the return drive, out came Bruce, and trotted\nquietly home as if he had run with the carriage all the way.\n\nBruce\u2019s constant habit during this last period of his life was to\naccompany his guardian, who was a clergyman, to the door of the church\nwhere the latter went for a daily morning service. When he came out,\nBruce was waiting for him and trotted home in his company to breakfast.\nAt last one morning Bruce was so weak and feeble that his guardian put\nhim by his study fire before he left the house, and told the dog to\nwait there for him. Did Bruce feel the end was coming? Who can say,\nbut in all his weakness he managed to crawl to his usual place by\nthe church door, and was ready with a feeble welcome when his friend\nappeared. Carried back to the study fire, Bruce did not move again,\nbut in the course of a few hours gave up his life. We may hope that no\nregrets for the absent master clouded the last moments of his waning\npowers.\n\n\n\n\nTHE PROFESSOR\n\n_In Memoriam_\n\n  Lugete o pueri et genus togatum\n  Et quaecumque canes amant puellae,\n  Ille emortuus est canis fidelis,\n  Huius deliciae scholae decusque,\n  Qui vix inferior domus magistro\n  Formabat pueros sagax Agelli.\n  Ast omnes studio pari ciebat\n  Praesens Marlburios favente cauda,\n  Qui propellere vel manu volantem\n  Vel saevis pedibus pilam studebant,\n  Exemplo aut tacito coarguebat\n  Si quem dedecuit piger veternus\n  Nam raptas modo quattuor superbus\n  Mala continuit pilas minore,\n  Elatrans modo equum procax anhelum\n  Morsu callidiore persecutus.\n  At liberrimus usque sic vagari\n  Per campum solitus viasque nostras,\n  Indignans Anatis tulisse vincla\n  Innexo laqueo miser peremptus\n  Aeterno dominum obruit dolore.[1]\n\n                                   M.\n\n\nBandy, the friend and hero of three generations of Marlborough boys,\nwas of the spirit of the age in which he lived. With a decorous respect\nfor the sober business of the classrooms, it was in the playing fields\nthat his prowess was displayed. Cricket was for him the absorbing\ninterest from the early days of his puppyhood to the closing hours of\nhis life. Football and hockey had a lesser place in his affections,\nand the Racquet Court came in occasionally for patronage. Of the\nSchool Rifle Corps he was an enthusiastic and exemplary member, and\neven illness would not keep him from his place in the corps, when the\ndelights of a Field Day were in prospect.\n\nIn private life Bandy was a Dandie Dinmont, who came into the\npossession of the master of Littlefield, one of the Marlborough\nboarding houses, when he was only a few weeks old. As there were some\nfifty boys at Littlefield, and no other dog was kept in the house,\nBandy was from the first thrown greatly into the society of humans,\nand throughout his life he always showed a preference for their\ncompanionship to that of those of his own kind.\n\nBandy made his first acquaintance with cricket in the summer term that\nfollowed his arrival at the school. His master, who used to coach at\nthe cricket nets in the school playing field, was in the habit of\ntaking the puppy with him and tying him up in full view of all that\nwas going on. With growing interest Bandy watched the proceedings,\nand so well did he respond to his early training that the love of the\ngame developed into a passion with him when he had come to years of\ndiscretion. He grew to be one of the most enthusiastic and untiring\nof fieldsmen, and for a long succession of summer terms he was seldom\nabsent, morning or afternoon, from the Littlefield practice net. He\ngenerally stood in the long field, and would work himself to a state of\ncomplete exhaustion in retrieving the balls.\n\n[Illustration: THE PROFESSOR\n\nBANDY]\n\nIn this, his chosen work, Bandy showed a nice discrimination. He only\nworked for his own house. Balls hit from other nets might fly past him,\nor even roll to his feet, but of these he took no heed. His fielding\nwas for those of his own house party, though he recognised the claims\nof the school nets reserved for the XI and XXII, and professional\nbowlers, and showed his recognition in a manner all his own. He himself\nwas always up to time, and if his house contingent were late he would\nenter a protest against their slackness by taking his services for\nthat hour to the aristocrats of the cricket field. Yet here the nets\nhad drawbacks from Bandy\u2019s point of view. Being longer and higher than\nthe ordinary house nets, the ball was seldom hit outside them, and in\nconsequence there was but little fielding to be done. But Bandy made\nthe best of things. Taking no notice for the time being of his usual\nallies, he would stand behind the wicket of his chosen comrades, and\nleap at the balls, not yet past the bat, or as they struck the net.\nHe would even venture inside and stand near in on the off, with eyes\nfixed, as a fieldsman\u2019s should be, not on the bowler but on the bat.\n\nThis habit nearly brought Bandy\u2019s career to an untimely end. The\ncaptain of the XI drove a ball low down on the off right, that came\nstraight at him. Bandy watched its course without flinching, and met\nit full on his head. As he rolled over, the game was forgotten, and\nthe players rushed to his assistance. As his master was coming on to\nthe field he met the poor little sufferer being carried tenderly home.\nHe was apparently dying. In a few hours, however, he rallied a little,\nand during the night so far recovered consciousness as to take some\nnourishment from the hands of a devoted nurse. He was still alive when\nhis master went into school at 10 o\u2019clock on the following morning, but\nit seemed scarcely possible that he could recover. Soon after twelve,\nwhen his owner went into the cricket field, an excited boy rushed up\nto him with the question, \u201cHave you heard about Bandy, sir?\u201d As there\nseemed only one possible reason for such a query, the master responded\nsadly with the one word, \u201cDead?\u201d \u201cNot a bit of it,\u201d was the astounding\nanswer, \u201che\u2019s fielding inside the net.\u201d\n\nAfter this, life without a ball for Bandy was incomplete. Though a\ncricket ball was his first love, it was not by any means the only one.\nAny ball not in play he regarded as fair game. In the cricket season,\nas he sometimes strolled with seeming innocence about the field, he\nwould search the pockets of any coat that had been thrown on the ground\nin the hope of finding the thing he loved so well. Or from the Fives or\nRacquet Court, he would carry off any spare balls he might come across,\nand stoutly maintain his right to them. His master was not infrequently\nmet with a request from one of the suffering owners, \u201cPlease, sir,\nwould you speak to Bandy? He has bagged my Fives balls.\u201d\n\nSunday, a day that never appealed to Bandy, was that in which he often\nturned his attention to possible balls. In the summer he would spend\nhours quartering the fringe of long grass that surrounds the cricket\ngrounds in which balls were often lost. If Bandy came across an old\none, a useless \u201cpudding,\u201d he would proceed to gnaw it to pieces then\nand there, but if he found a new one he would straightway carry it to\nhis master\u2019s study, which he always regarded as his treasure-house.\n\nThat in the opinion of his Marlborough friends Bandy was \u201cmore than\nbrute, if less than man,\u201d the following school story will show. In this\ncase, I fear, I cannot go quite so far as those who knew him better and\nwhose faith in his powers was boundless. While Bandy was an interested\nspectator of a cricket match he would gradually get nearer and nearer\nto the scoring board, with the object, as his friends declared, of\nseeing how they had acquitted themselves. If when the numbers went up\nthey showed that a boy had made a good innings, Bandy would sometimes\nwalk down the steps from the pavilion to meet him, and accompany him\nback with applauding barks.\n\nNo wonder that with such belief in his powers Bandy was honoured by his\nfriends in a way surely no little dog has ever been before. The Latin\nverse at the beginning of this chapter speaks for itself, it--and the\ntranslation--was written by Mr. F. B. Malin. From the pen of another\nfriend, Mr. F. Bain, come the delightful lines:\n\nIN MEMORY OF THE VALIANT LITTLE DOG, BANDY\n\n  Alas! and art thou really dead,\n  Quaint, semi-human quadruped?\n  And dost thou sit on Pluto\u2019s coast,\n  A pallid little bandy ghost;\n  Gone, little friend, away from us,\n  Compatriot now of Cerberus,\n  And shall we never see thee more\n  Barking about the Rifle Corps?\n  And wilt thou never now explain\n  Thy base attack on Mr. Swain?\n  Shall the old nag now munch his meals,\n  Nor feel thee biting at his heels?\n  At football shalt thou ne\u2019er be found,\n  Snuffing at every inch of ground\n  Along those touch-lines, where we know\n  Thou found\u2019st a mouse long years ago?\n  Never in court shall we now pass\n  Thy sturdy figure on the grass,\n  Fives balls protruding from its jaws,\n  And racquet balls between its paws.\n  Never again shall we now meet\n  Thee, Bandy, trotting down the street;\n  See thee turn over on thy back,\n  And, deep down in thy throat, alack!\n  Behold, defended by thy grin,\n  Our cricket ball, thou dog of sin!\n  Who can forget the solemn way\n  Thou mapped\u2019st out thy every day?\n  Thy daily round, thy common task,\n  Furnished far more than most dogs ask.\n  The cricket net, the football match,\n  The racquet court, those hours thou\u2019dst snatch,\n  When masters are in cap and gown,\n  To do thy duty by the town.\n  Yet was there one day, Bandy, one day,\n  When life was dull, and that was Sunday.\n  No interest, poor dog, for thee,\n  Had sermons or Divinity:\n  Thou\u2019dst no delight in Scripture facts,\n  No joy in Gospels or in Acts:\n  Thou setted\u2019st small store by such things,\n  As Apostolic journeyings.\n  Ah! Bandy, if the Apostle Paul\n  Had only been a cricket ball!\n  Queer little dog, I see thee yet,\n  Panting behind the cricket net:\n  Thy every fibre quivering\n  To touch that flying leathery thing,\n  That sometimes lives, sometimes is dead,\n  So wonderful and round and red!\n  Those wistful little yellow eyes\n  Glaring at balls that round them rise:\n  Those bandy legs, those big, broad paws,\n  Those smiling, comprehensive jaws:\n  That lolling, red, protruding tongue,\n  That plaintive yelp to heaven up-flung,\n  Attesting plain as human speech\n  How fain thou art the ball to reach.\n  Mid languid forms that lounge and sprawl,\n  And hardly deign to stop the ball,\n  A pattern fieldsman--sight to stir\n  The heart of every cricketer.\n  And down among the ghosts, who knows,\n  May flit dim forms of ghostly Pros;\n  (For such as throw on grass may well\n  Be doomed to bowl on Asphodel,\n  With Rhadamanthus standing there,\n  To see that every ball is fair.)\n  While ghosts of gentler birth strike at\n  A ghostly ball with ghostly bat.\n  If so, a little ghost has set\n  Himself behind that ghostly net,\n  And leaps into the air to clutch\n  The thing he loved on earth so much.\n\n                                    F. BAIN.\n\nSome of the allusions in the above will unfold their meaning in the\nlater events of Bandy\u2019s life. A more charming appreciation of a dog\u2019s\nlife has, I think, never been written, for Matthew Arnold\u2019s lines on\nGeist\u2019s Grave are conceived in a different vein.\n\nOn one occasion it seemed that Bandy must be absent from one of\nhis beloved cricket matches. He was in hospital, suffering from\nwhat the veterinary surgeon said was eczema,--in an ordinary dog\nit might perhaps have been called mange--but in any case Bandy was\n_hors de combat_ and in confinement. But Bandy throughout life had a\nwell-grounded opinion that \u201cstone walls do not a prison make,\u201d and his\nmaster\u2019s astonishment was great to see a dilapidated little figure\nstrolling presently over the field to his accustomed place. His owner\ncalled out to the medical attendant to know what Bandy\u2019s presence\nmeant, and, to add to the quaintness of the incident, the reply came\npromptly in all good faith, \u201cI don\u2019t know, sir. _I_ never told him\nthere was a match on.\u201d\n\nWhen health and strength were his, Bandy showed himself a rigid\ndisciplinarian. While a cricket match was in progress there were\nvarious minor games going on in different parts of the field. Bandy\u2019s\nattention was of course given exclusively to the major court, until\na criminal proceeding on the part of a fox-terrier attracted him.\nA big hit from one of the lesser players carried the ball near the\nterrier, and before the out-field could get up the dog seized the ball\nbetween his teeth and bolted with it. None of the spectators within\nreach stopped him, but Bandy, who had seen the theft from his proud\nposition on the eleven bank, dashed to the rescue. With a growl of\nmingled astonishment and indignation he flew after the culprit, whom he\nsoon reached and pinned by the throat. He then stood sentry over the\ndisgorged ball till the fieldsman came up and recovered it. Then Bandy,\nstill bristling with disgust, slowly returned to his master\u2019s side.\n\nFootball and hockey matches Bandy seemed to attend more from a sense\nof duty, than from any interest he felt in the play itself. He did\nnot watch the game but, satisfied that by his presence he had shown\na becoming respect for the occasion, he turned his attention to\nmore interesting matters. He generally spent the time in patrolling\ntouch-lines cut in the turf, for here he had once found and killed a\nmouse. Though the joy never came to him again in the same way, he lived\nin hope of further discoveries.\n\nFor the Racquet Court he had a modified affection, but for some time he\nmade a regular appearance there. It was the habit of one of the masters\nwho had retired, but still lived near at hand, to come to the school\nevery Monday and Friday morning at twelve o\u2019clock, to play racquets\nwith the school pair. When he left his garden he always found Bandy\nwaiting to walk back with him to the court. Such a nice perception of\ntimes and seasons had Bandy that he was never known to make a mistake\neither in the day or hour of the visit. From the gallery no play was\nvisible for one of Bandy\u2019s size, but he would stand there the hour\nthrough, listening to the rattle of the balls he could not see, with\nevery nerve on stretch. There was, too, always the chance of a \u201cskied\u201d\nball, but the waiting was long, and from time to time he would give\nrelief to his pent-up feelings by a yell of approval or despair.\n\nOne of the many ways in which Bandy showed his appreciation of his\nrecognised position in the school life was by joining any party he\nthought worthy of his company when they were being photographed. His\nsense of loyalty to his house was shown in the selection he made, and\noutside any gathering of his house members, nothing below Common Room\nwas good enough for him. But even then Bandy\u2019s sense of justice did not\nallow him to enjoy any honour that was refused to his friends. When\nthe masters were forming up on the Bowling Green to be photographed,\nsome one of the party drew attention to the fact that Bandy was not\npresent to complete their number. But it was the summer term, the hour\nbetween twelve and one, when Bandy was busy fielding. This he could\nnot miss, and so it seemed that he had cut the photograph. But Bandy\nwas equal to the occasion. Just as the last arrangements had been\nmade, a movement was observed among the interested crowd that on these\noccasions surrounds the door at the head of the garden steps. A small\nform slipped through, and Bandy, still panting from his labours at the\nnets, dashed over the grass and took up the most conspicuous place in\nthe group.\n\nIn accordance with custom, a second photograph was asked for, and\nwhile the photographer was making his preparations and regrouping his\nsubjects, Bandy disappeared with the same speed that had characterised\nhis advent. But this time the calls of friendship were in his mind, and\nwhen he returned he brought two curs of low degree to share his honours\nwith him. But while Bandy was an honoured associate, it was felt that\nthe dignity of Common Room would suffer if his friends were permitted\nto join the group. The curs were consequently chased away with\nignominy, Bandy sitting up meanwhile and watching the treatment meted\nout to them. He seemed to be considering the situation, and at the\nmoment the cap was taken off, he rose and moving rapidly down the line\nleft a blur on the plate that testified to his feelings on the subject.\nHe then walked off triumphantly to rejoin his rejected friends.\n\nFor the second time Bandy nearly met his death on the playing field.\nA harmless horse, whose business in life it was to pull rollers and\nmowing machines, spent his leisure hours in grazing at large in\nthe field. Whether it was that his stolid demeanour, or the placid\nenjoyment that marked his performance, irritated Bandy, certain it is\nthat from one of these or some other equally sound causes he gave the\nharmless quadruped no peace. His great delight was to dance about just\nout of range, with short, sharp, most aggravating barks. This he would\nkeep up till the horse moved on, or if all else failed he would try a\nsnap at his heels. Such outrageous conduct was very properly resented,\nand the day of reckoning came at last. With a thud that sounded far and\nwide, the victim caught his tormentor full on the head and fairly laid\nhim out. Once more Bandy was carried home to die, and the horse had\npeace for _one whole day_.\n\nThe great problem of Bandy\u2019s life was how to carry three Fives balls in\nhis mouth at once. One cricket ball, two Fives balls, or three racquet\nballs he could manage, but his ambition was to stow away three Fives\nballs. Over the successful carrying out of this he would spend hours\nwhen no more enticing occupation offered itself. As it was a serious\nbusiness, in the accomplishment of which he must not run the risk of\ninterruption, he would establish himself with his balls in a certain\ngrass plot in the court, which Bandy knew well was out of bounds for\nall but him. Here his master has often watched him, with the three\nballs laid out before him. He would begin by stowing away one ball\nin either cheek, but with all his efforts he could not get the third\nin between. Then he would eject them, and with the funniest air of\ncareful thought, turn the matter over in his mind. Starting again, he\nwould put the first ball well down his throat and make heroic efforts\nto accommodate the other two. A less conscientious dog might have\nsubstituted a smaller racquet ball for the third trophy, but such\nwas not Bandy\u2019s way, and, alas, death overtook him before he found a\nsolution to the puzzle.\n\nFond, however, as Bandy was of balls and games, he put duty first.\nIt is almost a creed of Marlborough faith that Bandy never missed a\nturn out of the School Rifle Corps after he had enrolled himself in\nthat body. As soon as the \u201cFall in\u201d was sounded he would appear on\nthe scene, and, taking up his position just out of reach of the heels\nand sword of the Commanding Officer, would do his best to emphasize\neach word of command. Whether this was quite popular with the C.O.\u2019s\nis perhaps open to doubt, but here, as in all other details of school\nlife, Bandy was a privileged person. As the corps passed out of court\nto the cricket field, he remained in attendance on the captain in case\nhis services should be required. It was a red-letter day for Bandy when\nsuch an occasion presented itself.\n\nAs Bandy lived before the time of the South African War, more attention\nwas paid to the march past than is usual now. It was seldom that a\nmarch past was not included in the afternoon\u2019s drill. Here Bandy was at\nhis best. No sooner was the word given than he would dash forward to\nthe head of the band, and take up his post about ten paces in front.\nHis important duty was to lead, and with head and tail up, and eyes\nfront, he did it with becoming attention to details. When the band\nwheeled left, to take post and play the corps by, Bandy would wheel\nright, and, stationing himself in dignified manner at the feet of the\nCaptain, would take the salute with him.\n\nHere again Bandy showed his stern ideas of discipline. It was before\nthe days of putties, and short leather gaiters were worn by the\nvolunteers. Mr. Swain, the bandmaster, was apt to be forgetful of\ndetails, and one day as the corps, headed by the band, was marching\ninto the field, the captain, from halfway along the column, called the\nattention of a sergeant to the fact that the bandmaster was without the\nregulation gaiters. Bandy, who was in his usual place by the captain\u2019s\nside, showed his sense of outraged propriety by springing to the head\nof the column and seizing Mr. Swain by the ankle, in the place where\nthe gaiters should have been. Whether he was not pleased with the\nway in which his attentions were received, or did not consider the\npunishment equal to the offence, Bandy did not let the matter rest here.\n\nThe band practices, held in the gymnasium, were gatherings that did\nnot appeal to Bandy, and he was never known to make one of them. But\non the practice that followed his disciplinary effort on the parade\nground, Bandy made his way to the gymnasium and demanded, and of course\nreceived, admission. Without a second\u2019s hesitation he made straight\nfor the astonished instructor, and repeated his warning against laxity.\nThe sufferer suddenly developed an agility on the horizontal bars that\nno one had suspected him of possessing. The strangest thing perhaps\nabout the incident was that it is the only case in which the dog ever\nattacked a human.\n\nOn the eve of one Field Day poor Bandy was in hospital. On the Monday\nafternoon he had a tumour removed from his throat, and the corps\nparaded early on Tuesday morning. One \u201cturn out\u201d then he was bound\nto miss. But the corps had just fallen in when, as the first word of\ncommand rang out, there was a gasp heard. The faithful soldier had\nmanaged to escape, and had just enough strength to crawl to his usual\nplace. Is it wonder that such heroism was duly recorded in verse? \u201cExit\nBandy\u201d testifies to the place he held in the affections of his friends.\nThese lines, like the others I have quoted, were written after the\ndog\u2019s death.\n\nEXIT BANDY\n\n  A truce to all your games to-day,\n  Put football, racquet-ball away,\n  Not now the hour for sport and play,\n      But sorrow sore instead.\n  A friend has vanished from our view\n  Whom all of our six hundred knew.\n  O sad Six Hundred when to you\n      The news came--\u201cBandy\u2019s dead.\u201d\n\n  Muffle your drums, O Volunteers;\n  Your shrill notes soften to our ears,\n  O Fifers; half a score of years\n      He never missed a drill,\n  But ever as your captain spoke\n  \u201cFall in,\u201d a bark the courtyard woke\n  To tell to laggard human folk\n      Their dog was punctual still.\n\n  He loved us all--would favour none--\n  The world his playmate; in the sun\n  Or in the rain to romp and run\n      His sole, his whole delight;\n  Beneath his doleful brow was pent\n  Indomitable merriment,\n  To play with boy or man he meant\n      All day with all his might.\n\n  Was ever cricketer more keen\n  On our field, or on any seen?\n  Though summer\u2019s labour made him lean\n      To him \u2019twas labour sweet;\n  You hit the ball, he watched its course,\n  And fast as any Manton horse\n  Outpaced it ere it spent its force\n      And laid it at your feet.\n\n  His voice would echo sharp and short\n  From top tier of the Racquet Court\n  As if he criticised the sort\n      Of stroke you made or missed;\n  So well he seemed to understand\n  The tricks of every round he scanned\n  You vowed him fit to take a hand\n      (Or little paw) at whist.\n\n  In Hockey, Football less he found\n  Of dog\u2019s delight, though on the ground\n  He oft would watch with gaze profound\n      The fortunes of the game.\n  And, maybe, mused, \u201cMy legs for kicks\n  Were not devised or holding sticks,\n  Else in the fray what fun to mix!\n      This looking on is tame.\u201d\n\n  Self-constituted sentinel\n  Our school domain he guarded well;\n  And woe to cur on whom he fell,\n      Though twice his weight and size.\n  Or, if too strong and big the brute,\n  For timely aid of stone or boot,\n  He begged us with petition mute,\n      As due from sworn allies.\n\n  A blithe life--free from pain or ache\n  Save when he made some quaint mistake;\n  Once heedless how a ball would break\n      It half beat out his brains.\n  And once a-hunting he would go,\n  And sliced by ploughshare \u2019neath the snow\n  Samaritans had work to sew\n      His outside in again.\n\n  Well, every dog must have his day,\n  Even you, whose gaiety made gay\n  Two generations, passed away\n      Ere ours, whom Marlborough bred:\n  And when was dog so mourned as you?\n  Half sighs, half smiles, the wide world through\n  Will blend in thousand-fold adieu\n      When news comes--\u201cBandy\u2019s dead.\u201d\n\n                                    A. H. BEESLY.\n\nAnything of the nature of a spectacle always had attractions for Bandy.\nSunday was, as I have said, a dull time to him, for he was never\nallowed to follow his friends when they went into chapel. One day,\nwhen there was to be a confirmation in the school chapel, the sight of\nvisitors and an unusual stir about the place attracted his attention.\nSoberly, as befitted the occasion, Bandy watched the crowd slowly pass\ninto the chapel, and then retired to the Bradleian arches, to be ready\nfor what might yet be in store. Scarcely had he settled down before\nthere issued from the old house the Bishop and the Head Master, side by\nside, with crozier bearer in front. Bandy was instantly all attention.\nWas this a procession, within the meaning of the Act? Three was a small\nquorum, but then there were the robes. It _was_ a procession, and with\na yell of joy that to his master\u2019s ears told only too well what was\nhappening outside, he flew to take part in it. A series of short, sharp\nbarks that sounded like pistol shots in the quiet stillness of the\nchapel made the watchers inside sharers of the scene that disturbed the\nserenity of the embarrassed dignitaries. But one of the sufferers was a\nBishop, and Bandy\u2019s master\u2019s diocesan, so we will draw a veil over the\nsequel.\n\nIt was on a Sunday that yet another great disaster nearly ended Bandy\u2019s\nlife. To relieve the tedium of the dull hours he went off in the\nafternoon to do a little ratting on his own account. What followed can\nonly be surmised, but that night Bandy did not return. The next morning\na blood-stained track was found leading from a rick on Granham Hill,\nand on a harrow at the foot of the rick were blood and hair. Bandy must\nhave leaped or fallen from the rick, though how he reached the top must\never be a mystery. That day two boys saw him making a desperate effort\nto reach home. He was in a terrible condition, and without assistance\nmust have died before he could find his friends. The boys, however,\ndid what they could for him. They took him to a friendly saddler,\nwho washed his wounds and sewed him up, and again he was carried home\napparently in extremis. Once more he was tenderly nursed back to life,\nand within forty-eight hours he crept from his master\u2019s house to the\nschool gates, where his owner found him waiting for him, too feeble to\ntravel further.\n\nThough Bandy was no fighter in the sense that he sought an encounter,\nhe never refused a good offer. He returned sometimes from his little\nprivate excursions more than a trifle mauled, but he never made any\nfuss about his wounds. Rats were ever a joy to him, mice came in for a\nlesser share of his attentions, and he would spend hours in desperate\nefforts to dig out a rabbit. There was no mistaking the language with\nwhich he would resent any intervention, even from his best friends,\nat such times. On the other hand he was always ready to acknowledge a\nreally well-timed service.\n\nAs the Downs round Marlborough abound in hares, they were ever an\nattraction to Bandy, and he lived in hope of some day accounting for\none. He had a good nose, and would sometimes stick to a stale line\ntill the hare jumped up within a few feet of him. Then away he would\ngo again, always running by scent and not by view. When nearly beat he\nwould sometimes start another hare. \u201cGood,\u201d he seemed to say, \u201cI knew I\nwas getting up to her,\u201d and with desperate determination he would carry\non the chase. His master was often obliged to ride up at last and call\nhim off, \u201cfaint, yet pursuing.\u201d\n\nBandy once had a rude shock. He had gone out with one of her late\nMajesty\u2019s judges, to dig out a badger in the Pewsey Vale, some seven\nmiles off. The holt was in a sand-pit, and had two entrances or pipes.\nA dog was sent up one of them to mark the badger, and behind the dog\na man worked with a short pick, passing the sand out behind him. At\nthe same time another man was told off to crawl up the other pipe and\nreport progress. It was a pouring wet day, and just as Bandy\u2019s master\narrived on the scene the second man emerged backwards from his pipe. In\na moment the judge\u2019s coat was off, and in spite of all remonstrances\nhe insisted on taking his turn, and slowly disappeared. The whole\nproceedings were a mystery to Bandy, and he watched attentively. No\nsooner did the judge reappear from the bowels of the earth than Bandy\ndashed in to solve the mystery for himself. His curiosity was quickly\nsatisfied. Instead of a rabbit he found a badger at bay, and in this\ncase he decided that discretion was the better part of valour.\n\nIt was only comparatively late in life that Bandy turned his thoughts\nseriously to education. Then for some time he attended his master\u2019s\nlessons regularly, and never was there a more attentive pupil. When the\nblackboard was being used he would come out and sit in full view of it,\nand never take his eyes off till the chalk was laid down. For two terms\nhe took up science, but he had the sense to limit his range of study,\nand only attended a class that was held twice a week. He never mistook\nthe day and hour, and always made a point of escorting the master who\nwas to give the lesson from his rooms to the laboratory.\n\nOccupied as he was, Bandy yet found time for social duties. For some\nyears he always paid one visit every term with unfailing precision. The\nmaster who was thus honoured was not conscious of any special claim\nto such distinction. He lived in rooms at the top of two flights of\nuncarpeted stairs, and regularly once a term he would hear what sounded\nlike a human step coming slowly up, so self-repressed was Bandy when\noccasion required. Then would come a tap low down on the door, and in\nwould walk the courteous visitor. The call would pass with no more\nincident than other visits of ceremony, and after a stroll round the\nroom and a lounge before the fire Bandy would rise, make his bow, and\nwalk downstairs with the same dignified restraint that had marked his\napproach.\n\nIt is as a public character that Bandy\u2019s memory lives. The incidents\nof his private life were few. Though devoted to his master, and with\na full sense of the claims of his house fellows upon his time and\naffections, he was not a demonstrative dog. The only times in which he\nwas wont to display an exuberance of joy, was when his master returned\nhome after the holidays. Then he would go nearly mad with joy, and\ntestify to his delight with no thought for the restraining hand of\ndecorum. If his master was laid aside by illness or accident, Bandy,\nwho at other times did not frequent his bedroom, would always go up,\nand jumping on the bed, give the special mark of sympathy that the\noccasion demanded. But Bandy\u2019s powers did not lie in the direction\nof sick-room nursing. His was only a visit of condolence. He was\nsatisfied that others could look after his master better than he could,\nand he would go off to one of his many school duties, safe in the\nconfidence that the invalid would be well cared for.\n\nIt seems almost sacrilege to speak of such a dog as Bandy being\nthrashed, but such ill luck has been the portion of other and greater\nlights of Marlborough, so I may take courage to say that twice such\nignominy fell on Bandy. The first time his master felt called on to\nadminister condign punishment was for the crime of chasing sheep on the\nDowns. The lesson was remembered, and the offence was never repeated.\n\nOn the second occasion Bandy resented the treatment meted out to him\nand took his means of retaliation. It was a prize day, and he wished\nto share in the unwonted stir and movement that promised untold joys.\nBut his master decided otherwise, and sent him sternly home. From the\norder there was no appeal. Sadly Bandy turned from promised joys, and\nmeditated vengeance in his heart. Going straight back to the dining\nroom he forthwith jumped on the table, and finding there among other\ndainties a cold duck, he determined to relieve the tedium of his\nbanishment by a feast. So he devoured the duck in comfort on the floor,\nand then waited on the doorstep for his master\u2019s return. When the\nlatter came in Bandy led the way to the dining room, and conducted his\nmaster to the remains of his repast. It was not to be supposed that\na free member of the school could be shut out from one of its great\nfunctions with impunity.\n\nBandy was always keenly sensitive to ridicule. It was a favourite\namusement of his to watch the matron dispense the various medicines\nto the boys. Curled up in her chair, he would follow the proceedings\nwith interest. One of the boys in teasing mood came and stood in front\nof him, and laughed derisively. Bandy showed his sense of the insult\noffered him by immediately leaving the room and taking refuge in his\nmaster\u2019s study. Two years later this boy came down to see the senior\nmaster, and as soon as Bandy heard his step outside he made good his\nescape from the room. As soon as the boy entered, his master knew the\ncause of Bandy\u2019s hurried departure.\n\nOnce again Bandy was in hospital, and the very care his friends took of\nhim proved his undoing. No one had mastered the secret of his former\nescapes from confinement, and to make all sure, Bandy was chained up\nand left for the night. Alas, the next morning, which by a strange\ncoincidence was his master\u2019s birthday, a sad sight met the eyes of his\nguardians. Bandy, unable to support the indignity of loss of liberty,\nhad strangled himself in mad efforts to escape. There lay his little\nlifeless form, and grief reigned in Marlborough for the loss of the\ngood comrade and faithful friend, who for ten long years had been a\nprivileged member of the school body.\n\nYet another friend was moved to verse in his sorrow for his loss.\n\nBANDY\n\n  Bandy dead, and such a death!\n    Sure it makes the heart beat faster,\n  That he rather strove to die\n    Than be parted from his master.\n\n  Countless risks to limb and life\n    (As I write my spirits falter)\n  He had weathered; and the end--\n    Self-destruction with a halter!\n\n  Bandy! When from lip to lip\n    Spread that dismal bit of knowledge,\n  More than grief for loss of brute\n    Dimmed the gladness of the college.\n\n  How shall we supply the place\n    Vacant by his sad disaster?\n  Self-appointed, Bandy long\n    Held the post of Extra Master.\n\n  See him watch behind the nets,\n    Cerberus-toothed, and Lynceus-sighted;\n  See him scampering o\u2019er the grass,\n    Coach and fag in one united.\n\n  See him, close inspection o\u2019er,\n    Column formed, and bugles blowing,\n  Head the Corps, and through the gates\n    Trot, the way to glory showing.\n\n  In the field, the court, the road,\n    Barking, bossing had you seen him,\n  _Nil humani_, you had said,\n    Was to Bandy _alienum_.\n\n  Never, rare in man! _de trop_,\n    Ever on occasion handy;\n  Boys and Masters courage take\n    From the energy of Bandy!\n\n  More than brute, if less than man,\n    Far beyond all canine measure,\n  Sharing, conscious of his worth,\n    Human business and pleasure.\n\n  Mystery strange of brutish soul!\n    Beamed from out those doggy features;\n  More of sympathy for man\n    Than his nearer fellow creatures.\n\n  Lived throughout that grizzly frame\n    Iron purpose past our guiding;\n  Wisdom hoar that mocked our search\n    Deep in those weird eyes abiding.\n\n  Where is Bandy\u2019s spirit fled?\n    What forbids this hope to cherish,\n  Wit so keen, and love so strong,\n    Are not of the things that perish?\n\n                                  X. A. M.\n\n\n\n\nTHE SOLDIER OF FORTUNE\n\n\u201c_Here\u2019s fine sport, my masters!_\u201d\n\n\nJack, who belonged to the old breed of fighting dogs, had all the\ncharacteristics that marked the better class of those worthies of a\nbygone age who were known as soldiers of fortune. Brave as a lion,\nhe would fight to the death, but he was gentle and courteous to\nthose in distress, loyal to his friends, and an open enemy. It was\nstrange, indeed, that with his early training he had not learned to\nlove fighting for fighting\u2019s sake. But as he never began an attack,\nand never lost his head even in the most heated moments of a deadly\nstruggle, he had the advantage of a soldier trained to warfare over\nless well disciplined opponents. Jack\u2019s enormous strength of jaw\nand his size--for in fighting condition he was said to weigh fifty\npounds--made him a formidable antagonist. But in spite of this, and\nof his truly ferocious appearance, he was gentle and affectionate in\ndisposition, was on the most friendly terms with every one in the\nhouse, where he found a home after the stormy days of his youth, and\nwas never known to start a quarrel with one of his own kind.\n\nHis meeting with his future mistress was sufficiently dramatic. This\nlady was calling at a vicarage in the neighbourhood of her home when,\nas she reached the front door, she found herself confronted by a\nremarkable looking object. Seated on the doorstep was a large, grey,\nbrindled bull terrier, with the square massive head of the bulldog,\nand in general appearance resembling the pictures of Crib and Rosa and\nother old-world celebrities. To add to his attractions he had lost half\nan ear on one side of his face and half of his upper lip on the other.\nHis head was covered with wounds not yet healed, and his neck had been\nseverely mauled recently.\n\nThe visitor stood still in astonishment, while she examined him\nattentively, and Jack on his side kept his place in the middle of the\ndoorway, and returned her gaze, while he slowly turned his head from\nside to side. Happily the lady does not know what fear is where a dog\nis concerned, and as soon as she had recovered from her surprise she\nspoke to the dog in a gentle voice. Jack then rose and came towards\nher, and after walking round her and sniffing at her skirt he looked up\nat her and allowed her to pat his head. From that moment his friendship\nwith the stranger began, though there were still some vicissitudes\nof his strange career to be gone through before he came into her\npossession.\n\n[Illustration: THE SOLDIER OF FORTUNE\n\nJACK]\n\nInside the house the visitor heard something of his story. Jack had\nbeen brought home by the son of the house, who was an undergraduate of\nCambridge, and he had become possessed of him under peculiar and, we\nmay hope, unusual circumstances. A fellow undergraduate had purchased\nJack from a man who had brought him down from the Staffordshire\nPotteries, where the bull terrier had a great reputation as a\nfighting dog. Many were the tales told of his prowess in deadly\ncombats, in which he had come off with the honours of war. These\nbrutal exhibitions though contrary to law are not yet done away with\nin mining districts, and that other parts of the country are not free\nfrom suspicion in this respect Jack\u2019s history will make clear. It would\nbe well if the authorities showed more vigour in putting them down, as\nthey are a disgrace to our boasted humanity and refinement of feeling.\nIt is hard to see how the gruesome sight of dogs deliberately set to\nmaul one another until the life of one is forfeited, lacks any of the\nbrutal elements that have made cock fighting happily a thing of the\npast.\n\nUnfortunately for poor Jack the hands into which he fell at Cambridge\nwere no more humane than those of his former owners. At a \u201cwine\u201d his\nnew master produced him, and challenged his friends present to find a\ndog that could \u201click\u201d him. Another wild spirit took up the challenge,\ndeclaring that his Newfoundland, an unusually large and strong specimen\nof his breed, could easily give the Staffordshire hero a licking. Bets\nwere made freely, and the furniture was cleared, while the Newfoundland\nwas being fetched. Then the wretched animals were set on, and for a\ntime their struggle was watched by the inhuman men. But the fight grew\nso savage that the infuriated animals became a danger to the onlookers,\nand the party put the crowning point to their cowardly proceeding by\nclearing out of the room and shutting the door on the combatants. It\nwas not till the sounds of fighting had died away that they ventured\nback to see what had happened to their victims. The Newfoundland had\nbeen killed, and Jack was lying half dead beside him.\n\nFear of the consequences of their exploit to themselves now entered the\nyoung men\u2019s minds. If Jack was kept, the Dons would be sure to hear of\nthe affair, and as one of the party was going down the following day,\nhe was persuaded to take the dog with him. The suffering creature was\nconsequently put into a basket and carried down to the Dorset Vicarage,\nwhere he was by no means a welcome guest. The Vicar not unnaturally\nthought that he was not a reputable addition to his household. But the\ndog could not be turned away till his wounds were healed, and Jack\nfound a home in an outhouse, from which he had made his escape on the\nday of my friend\u2019s visit.\n\nThe lady had no sooner heard his history than she expressed a wish\nto have him. But the Vicar refused point blank to allow him to go to\nher, and his son told her privately that he meant to keep the dog.\nOn returning from a short absence from home the would-be owner made\ninquiries about Jack, and what she then heard determined her to make\nevery effort to get possession of the dog, and thus put an end to his\nfighting career.\n\nJack\u2019s presence at the Vicarage had not been pleasing to an old\nretriever, who was used to ruling supreme on the premises. Before\nlong a fight ensued between the rivals, and the Vicar, hearing sounds\nof warfare, rushed out to find matters looking serious. Seizing the\nretriever by the tail he called loudly for assistance. This brought\nJack\u2019s master on the scene, and with considerable difficulty he\nsucceeded in getting his dog by the collar and choking him off. From\nthe fiat of banishment that now went forth there was no appeal, the\nsomewhat undignified part played by the master of the house perhaps\nadding fuel to his wrath. Anyway, Jack was made over to a travelling\npedlar, who passed through the village the following day.\n\nThis man had a large white bull terrier of his own, which, he said,\nhe kept to guard his cart. With the same brutal instincts displayed\nby Jack\u2019s former owners the pedlar determined on a fight between the\ndogs. For the benefit of himself and his friends the entertainment was\nbrought off in a back yard. So desperately did the dogs fight that to\nsave their lives the men at last separated them. Too late, however, to\nsave the life of the white dog, which died of its wounds, while Jack\nwas in a dreadful condition, and it seemed doubtful if he would recover.\n\nMy friend found out where the dog was, and sent the Vicar\u2019s son, who\nhad brought him into the neighbourhood, to buy the poor suffering\ncreature for her. The embassy was successful, and Jack, the most\nmiserable remnant of a dog that ever was seen, and with his neck in\nsuch a state that it was months before he could bear a collar, came to\nthe home that sheltered him for the remainder of his days.\n\nJack\u2019s adventures were by no means over, but he was too intelligent\never to enter on a struggle lightly. He knew what fighting meant, and\ndid not run into danger needlessly. What to others was a mere incident\nin their quarrelsome lives was for him a matter in which the science\nof war and the risks of battle had to be considered. These fighting\ndogs are trained never to let go of their opponent till they have a\nfirm grip of the head, and then, from the working of their terrible\njaws, there is little hope for the victim. The dog that fastens on to\nthe leg of his opponent is not accounted much good, as, though he may\nbreak the bone and cause terrible agony, he is not likely to succeed in\nkilling the other. The brutalising effect of such contests as those in\nwhich Jack had taken part seems to be shown more clearly on the men who\norganise them than on the animals they train. This is, at least, as it\nshould be, for it is man\u2019s superior intelligence that is perverted to\nprovide the so-called sport, while the dogs are but the puppets made to\ndance at his orders.\n\nJack\u2019s appearance always remained sufficiently alarming to terrify weak\nnerves. In his new home he used to spend long hours lying on a mat in\nthe front hall, and always did so of an afternoon unless he was out\ndriving with his mistress. He was in his usual place when two ladies\narrived to tea. One of the visitors stepped out of the carriage to\nring the bell, and this, being almost over Jack\u2019s head, awoke him with\na start. The dog sprang to his feet with a growl, and his unexpected\nappearance struck such terror into the heart of the visitor that she\nfled back to the brougham for protection. Her companion, an older lady,\njust then in the act of stepping out, received her friend\u2019s onslaught\nwith no hope of withstanding the shock. She was knocked backwards on\nto the floor of the brougham, where the fugitive tumbled on the top of\nher, Jack meanwhile watching the unwonted proceedings with interest,\nbut without showing the least sign of wishing to join in the fray.\nWhen the visitors had been safely escorted into the house, and the\nelder lady understood the cause of her friend\u2019s fright, her anger was\ngreat. How could any one suppose that a dangerous dog would be allowed\nto lie at the front door? she inquired. But the other who could not be\npersuaded to allow Jack to come near her, or indeed to be in the same\nroom with her, asserted that his look was enough to frighten any one,\nand if he came near her _she should do the same again_.\n\nBut Jack behaved with exemplary courtesy to all visitors to the house,\nand to his mistress he was devotedly attached. This love he only\nextended in anything like the same degree to one person, and that was\nhis mistress\u2019s mother. He always had a special welcome for her when she\nmade one of her occasional visits to the house, and constituted himself\nher guardian, seeming to understand perfectly that as she had nearly\nlost her sight she needed protection. Whenever his mistress was out,\nif Jack did not go with her, he would go straight up to her mother\u2019s\nroom and sit by her side, and no one could induce him to move till his\nmistress returned. His affection and care were much appreciated, and\nJack and the elder lady became the firmest friends. She was in the\nhabit of taking a little stroll in the afternoon along the carriage\ndrive, and with Jack for a companion she said she felt perfectly safe.\nHe always walked close by her side, and to give her warning when any\none was coming, he would look up at her and give a little friendly\ngrowl.\n\nTo his mistress he was the most vigilant of guards, and his encounter\nwith a tramp was talked of far and wide in the county. For some time\nthe cottagers in the neighbourhood had been troubled by the visits of\nthis man. It was his custom to watch the men off to work, and then go\nand bully the women until he got money from them. One spring morning,\nwhen Jack\u2019s owner was sitting in the drawing room with the window open,\na shadow cast across her book caused her to look up. She saw a short,\nsturdily built man of the dirtiest possible appearance in the act of\nstepping into the room from the verandah. She realised at once that it\nwas the tramp, from the descriptions she had heard from some of his\nformer victims. She knew, too, that he must have watched the house and\nchosen his time as usual when the men were absent. Probably from the\nshelter of the shrubbery he had seen the two gentlemen of the household\ndrive away in the dog-cart, and had waited until the outside men had\ngone home for their dinner. The only man left about the place was the\nbutler, who was on the far side of the house.\n\nStarting from her chair the lady asked the intruder what he wanted. \u201cI\nwant some money,\u201d was the surly response. \u201cI have nothing for you;\u201d\nand as she spoke she made a step towards the bell. But the man was\ntoo quick for her. Flinging himself before her, and thus cutting her\noff from the power of summoning assistance, he said threateningly, \u201cI\nmeans to have some before I goes.\u201d His startled victim looked round\nhastily for a weapon of defence, as her doubtful visitor held a short\nthick stick in his hand, which he looked quite capable of making use\nof to achieve his object. Her eye fell upon Jack asleep under a chair\nin the back room. Clapping her hands to rouse him, she called, \u201cGo for\nhim, Jack,\u201d and the dog sprang to his feet, and with a savage growl\nmade straight for the man. In an instant the intruder was back on the\nverandah, striking blindly at the dog with his stick. Jack was not to\nbe caught, and cleverly dodging the blows aimed at him he danced round\nwith every bristle up and his eyes glaring.\n\nThe man backed away along the verandah shouting at the top of his\nvoice, Jack after him, and his mistress following and encouraging the\ndog. In this way the procession worked round the house till it reached\nthe garden gate. Here the man turned and tried to bolt through, but\nJack was on the watch, and instantly making his spring, he fastened on\nto the man\u2019s thigh and hung like grim death. Never was there a more\nabject picture of fright than the tramp presented. He roared with pain\nand fear combined, and throwing away his stick made frantic efforts to\nget his hand into his pocket. Seeing the movement, and fearing that a\nknife might be brought into play against Jack, his mistress caught the\ndog by the collar, exclaiming as she did so, \u201cI will try and get him\noff, if you will be quiet.\u201d This was no easy matter, for Jack\u2019s blood\nwas up, but luckily there was a wrench, and with a piece of dirty,\nrotten cloth in his mouth the dog fell back. It was the work of a\nmoment for the tramp to bang to the gate between him and his assailant.\nBy the time the household came hurrying up to see what was the matter\nthe man was making best pace down the drive, and was never heard of in\nthat neighbourhood again.\n\nIt is to be noted that even in his angriest moments Jack never resented\nhis mistress\u2019s efforts to check him. Neither now nor at any period\nof his life, however great the provocation, did he turn upon her. As\nhe understood and was ready to respond to her call for aid, so he\nrespected her restraining hand, even though, like an angry child, he\ncould not give in to the restraint at once.\n\nOn one evening in the week my friend was in the habit of walking across\nthe fields to the village in order to play the organ for the choir\npractice. Jack always accompanied her, and as long as it was light he\nfollowed close at her heels. Directly it grew dark Jack invariably\nchanged his position and trotted along in front of her. He then gave\nnotice of any one approaching by a warning growl, and if the passer by\nceded the path to him all went well, and he took no further notice.\nIf, however, the intruder kept to the path, things were not made so\npleasant for him. One very dark night Jack\u2019s mistress heard the warning\ngrowl, and then a quick rush, and a man\u2019s voice raised in alarm.\nHurrying to the rescue she saw, as well as the darkness would allow,\nwhat appeared to be a man on the ground and a dog on the top of him.\nSeizing Jack by the collar she found it an unexpectedly easy task to\npull him off, as whatever it was that he had firmly in his teeth came\naway with him. The man struggled to his feet and fled for dear life,\nand it then turned out that Jack\u2019s trophy was a large bundle done up\nin a red handkerchief, and with a stick through it, which the man had\nevidently been carrying over his shoulder. Holding Jack firmly his\nmistress called to the fugitive that he might come back safely and\nsecure his property. But he would have none of it, and continued his\nheadlong course, while Jack and his mistress reached home without\nfurther adventure.\n\nAnother of Jack\u2019s exploits was in saving her from the attack of a\nsavage cow. A farmer in the parish had put a cow and her calf in a\nfield, through which ran a path that led into the village. Through this\nfield the Vicar\u2019s daughter had come one afternoon to see Jack\u2019s owner,\nbringing her old retriever with her. On her return she was charged\nby the cow, and in her efforts to escape fell into a deep ditch. The\nretriever meantime flew at the cow, but finding himself hard pressed,\njumped after his mistress, who in her fright thought her infuriated\nassailant had come after her. She and her dog eventually managed to\nscramble through the hedge into the next field, and found their way\nhome. Knowing that the lady on whom she had been calling would be\ncoming down later to the practice, she sent a note to warn her of the\ndanger. But the messenger wisely preferred to go the longer way by the\nroad, and he thus missed the lady, who with Jack had already started\nacross the fields. On getting over a stile she found herself face to\nface with a large half-bred Hereford cow, which without the slightest\nwarning rushed straight at her. Springing to one side she left the way\nopen to Jack, who proved quite equal to the encounter. Jumping at the\ncow\u2019s head, he caught her firmly by the nose and there hung. It was\nnow the cow\u2019s turn to try and get away, and she rushed round and round\nin a circle, swinging the clinging dog completely off the ground. All\nher efforts being of no avail, she sank at last on her knees and laid\ngroaning on the ground. Just then the farmer appeared, and with his\nhelp the cow was released, and Jack was then hurried away. The cow\nrecovered from her fright, and was none the worse for her adventure,\nbut she was promptly removed to a quieter grazing ground.\n\nOne of Jack\u2019s pleasures was to accompany his mistress in her drives.\nHe always ran under the dog-cart, and if pursued by other dogs would\nnever take any notice of them for fear of losing the cart. His mistress\ntherefore always drove on when any assailant appeared, as she knew Jack\nwould not leave her. This proof of attachment sometimes cost him dear,\nas his enemies were wont to think that his flying figure meant fear,\nand that they could bully him as they pleased. This was specially the\ncase with a large collie who lived in a neighbouring town to which Jack\nand his mistress often went. The collie had a habit of rushing after\nany dog following a carriage, and his great speed generally allowing\nhim to come up with them, he would then roll them over and, after\nshaking and biting them, run back to his master as if sure of approval.\nThis was indeed more or less true, for the master, whenever he was\nremonstrated with on the behaviour of his dog, always replied that he\nmeant no harm and only acted in play.\n\nAfter a time the owner of the collie set up a second, a younger dog,\nwho, of course, speedily followed in the steps of his elder. The two\ndogs once rushed on Jack, as he was passing in his usual place under\nthe cart, and gave him a severe mauling. After that his mistress always\ntook him up when they were likely to meet his enemies, and one day when\nshe went into a shop she fastened a piece of string to Jack\u2019s collar\nand led him. She had just reached the shop door when she saw the older\ncollie rushing towards them. Turning in hastily to avoid him, Jack\nlay down quietly beside her chair, but the collie rushed in and fell\nupon Jack, and with a snap of the string from the latter\u2019s collar, the\ntwo were fighting in the street. For the first few minutes the collie\nseemed to have the best of it, for he pinned Jack and was tearing at\nhim with all his strength. The lady and gentleman, in whose charge the\ncollie was at the time, seemed rather amused at the adventure, and\ndid not offer to interfere, while Jack\u2019s mistress, knowing that his\nturn would come, and thinking the attacker deserved a lesson, remained\npassive.\n\nPresently the collie, who thought he was going to have things entirely\nhis own way, recklessly put his foreleg across Jack\u2019s open mouth.\nThe powerful jaws closed on it, and the collie, releasing his hold of\nJack\u2019s throat, howled loudly, while he tried in vain to pull his leg\naway.\n\nJack, however, was no leg fighter, and struggling to his feet he\nreleased the leg, and, catching the collie by the side of the head,\nturned him over on his back. The collie\u2019s guardians now wished to\ninterfere, the lady calling out to her companion to save her dog. The\nman raised his walking stick and was in the act of bringing it down on\nJack\u2019s head, when the latter\u2019s mistress interfered. Fortunately she\nhad brought a walking stick in her hand when she left the dog-cart,\nand striking up the threatening stick of the other, she exclaimed, \u201cHe\nshall not be touched.\u201d But seeing that the collie would soon suffer\nthe extreme penalty of the law unless rescued, she seized Jack by the\ncollar and told him to leave go. His mistress always says she can\nnever forget the look of reproach her dog turned on her. Lowering his\nbristles and wagging his tail Jack fixed his eyes on her face with an\nexpression that was almost human. His look said as plainly as words,\n\u201cWhat a shame to baulk me of my vengeance, now that I have at last got\nmy chance.\u201d Nevertheless, he let go his hold, and the tattered collie\nwas led away. After this the collie was always put on a lead when he\nwas taken into the town. Jack once met him when he was being led, and\nthe way in which he showed that a dog who was not free was not worthy\nof his notice was very funny. Jack raised his head and stared at the\ncollie for a moment and then passed on with contempt written in his\nbearing, while the other, with lowered tail and scared look, showed\nrelief at getting by unnoticed.\n\nAt home Jack had a rival in the form of a black, curly coated\nretriever, named Bob. This dog showed his jealousy by falling on Jack\nwhenever he found an opportunity, and their contests were endless. Bob,\nhowever, was not a fighting dog, and as soon as the struggle reached\na certain point he stopped. Jack, who looked on Bob as an amateur\nunworthy of his serious attention, always stopped as soon as the other\ndid, and never offered to renew the fight. The two dogs often went with\ntheir mistress when she was riding, as Bob had no time for quarrelling\nwhen he was following the horse. But when the rider was opening a gate\non a river bank, in order to cross by the ford, the gate swung back\non Jack, who always followed close at her horse\u2019s heels. While he\nwas struggling to force his way through, Bob took the opportunity of\nfalling on him. Their mistress jumped from her horse to separate them,\nand as they were now fighting on the top of the bank she rolled them\nover into the water. With a great splash they disappeared, but Bob, who\nwas first to come to the surface, was none the worse for his ducking,\nand swimming a little way down stream soon found an easy landing place.\nJack was not so fortunate, for being a much heavier dog he had a deeper\nfall, and when he came up he was covered with mud. He seemed, too,\nslightly dazed, and instead of following Bob\u2019s example he tried to\nscramble up the high bank close to him. Time after time he fell back,\nand his mistress, fearing lest he should be drowned, lay down on the\nbank and, reaching over, tried to get hold of his collar.\n\nBob, meantime, sat and watched the proceeding, and seeing his\nmistress\u2019s ineffectual efforts he jumped into the water and, seizing\nJack by the collar, towed him down to the landing place and then,\nscrambling up backwards, tried to drag Jack after him. His owner rushed\nto his assistance, and by their united efforts Jack was pulled up, and\nin a few minutes the two dogs were trotting on amicably together.\n\nTheir last encounter was a bad one for their mistress. It was a hot\nsummer day, and she had taken a book into the garden and settled\nherself under the shade of a tree with Jack by her side. After a\ntime she fell asleep, and was awakened by a weight on her chest that\nthreatened to suffocate her. A loud worrying saluted her ears, and to\nher horror she found that Bob and Jack were having a scrimmage on the\ntop of her prostrate form. Struggling hard to release herself, she at\nlast slipped from under them, and the dogs continued their combat on\nthe ground. It was one of the worst fights they ever had, for Jack\nmeant business, so that Bob was glad at last to be carried away. After\nthis Bob found another home, but he neither forgot nor forgave his old\nenemy and was always ready for a row whenever they met.\n\nOne of Jack\u2019s great amusements was boxing with his mistress\u2019s brother.\nThe latter, putting on his boxing gloves, used to go down on his knee,\nwhile Jack stood opposite him, all attention for the signal to begin.\nJack\u2019s aim was to get a hold of one of the gloves, while his opponent\ntried to keep him out by bowling him over. Jack was often rolled head\nover heels by a well directed blow, but in the end he always got\na grip of one of the gloves, which he was allowed to carry off in\ntriumph. Though he used to get wildly excited over the performance he\nwas not savage. He wagged his tail the whole time as a sign of good\nfellowship, and quite understood that it was only a pastime, and not to\nbe considered as one of the serious duties of life.\n\nIn his older days Jack was very fond of lying in front of the kitchen\nfire. This place he shared with a large white cat named Muff, and very\nfunny it was to see the two strangely assorted creatures lying curled\nup side by side. Nothing would move Jack from his place. If the fire\nbecame too hot he would stay till his coat was actually scorched, only\nshowing his discomfort by an angry growl. This always upset Muff, who\non hearing the noise would fall on him, and was of course punished\nfor his insolence, till the cook, whose pet he was, rushed to his\nrescue. In one of these scrimmages Muff got such a sharp squeeze from\nhis powerful enemy that in terror he made a spring at a high window,\ntrying to escape. Instead, however, of getting through he came against\nthe blind which was partly down. To this he clung, and his weight\nbeing twelve pounds brought down the roller, which with the cat still\nclinging to his perch, fell with a clatter into the midst of plates and\ndishes, making a noise that raised the whole household. Jack and Muff\nbeing equally startled with the unexpected result of their conflict,\nfled for their lives, leaving the cook a sadder and a wiser woman.\n\nIt was in front of the kitchen fire that Jack\u2019s adventurous life came\nto an end. We may fancy what dreams of past exploits came to soothe the\ndays of failing powers, when the worn-out warrior knew that his work\nwas done. With the scars of many conflicts and the respectful sympathy\nof friend and foe alike, Jack found his last resting-place in the\nshrubbery of his home, facing the door near which he used to lie.\n\n\n\n\nTHE ARTISTIC THIEF\n\n          \u201c_They also know\n  And reason not contemptibly._\u201d\n\n\nJet, in appearance and character, had a distinction all his own. That\nthe latter was due to a subtle cleverness which frequently led him from\nthe paths of virtue did not prevent his being in private life a dog of\nhigh moral character. He never condescended to petty thieving, but when\nan occasion presented itself that he felt was worthy of his powers, Jet\nthrew himself into it with all the enthusiasm of a true artist.\n\nHe was a King Charles spaniel of a type now unknown, and was believed\nto be the last specimen of his kind. He was coal black from tip to\ntail, and had lovely blue-black eyes that completed the duskiness\nof his appearance. His head was not so short as the present fashion\ndemands, though it was shorter than those painted by Landseer, or\nportrayed by the eighteenth-century artists.\n\nAs a puppy he was too leggy for perfect beauty, but there was no\nevidence of this when he thickened out, and had grown a silky coat that\nswept the ground, from the tip of his undocked feathery tail to his\nears. The latter were of extraordinary length, and would tie easily\nover his mouth--in a bow his family declared, but certainly in a love\nknot. When he was six months old, he came from his home in the Isle\nof Wight into the possession of one of the family, with some member of\nwhich he spent the remainder of his life.\n\nWhile his master, who was a curate, was still living at home, Jet\nstarted on the career that made him famous. Belonging to another member\nof the family was a Blenheim puppy, of the kind now known as a Ruby.\nBoth the mites were fond of Pearl biscuits, and these were bought for\nthem in small quantities, as they did not come within the scope of the\nlawful housekeeping arrangements. The little fat Peter was more than\nonce found busily engaged on the floor with a bag of his favourite\ndainties, though this had been put well out of his reach, and his size\nand shape forbade the idea of his having fetched it down. But one day\nwhen the dining-room door was standing half open, Jet was seen to jump\non to the sideboard, shake and break the bag of biscuits, and, after\nsecuring what he wanted for himself, push the lightened bag down to\nthe waiting Peter. At the first movement of the door Jet flew from his\nperch, and by the time the visitor was in the room he was sitting in a\ncorner looking a model of innocence and ignorance. Peter, meanwhile,\nate hard, while there was still time, but _his_ lapses from virtue were\nexplained.\n\nBefore long Jet accompanied his master to a Midland town, where the\nlatter had rooms over a grocer\u2019s shop. He speedily made himself at\nhome there, and was a favourite with every one in the house. A trick\nof his puppyhood, not yet got rid of, was the love of tearing books\nto pieces. Many times Jet was corrected for this crime, but when a\nbook lying on his master\u2019s writing-table disappeared bodily he was not\neven suspected. Not a sign of torn leaves pointed to his indulgence\nin a forbidden pleasure. It was not till his master left the rooms a\nyear later that Jet\u2019s delinquency was made clear. When a heavy set of\nbookshelves was moved from its place, there, pushed carefully from view\nbehind them, lay the remains of the missing book. Every leaf was torn,\nand it was evident that during some prolonged absence from home of his\nowner Jet had had a long day\u2019s enjoyment with them. That he had managed\nto clear away every sign of the fragments said not a little for the\nintelligence he had brought to bear on the matter. But this artistic\nfinish to his work was what made Jet a leader in his line.\n\nThere was trouble for the mistress of the house soon after Jet took up\nhis abode there. In her shop there were various trays of eggs, each\nwith its appropriate label. Some were marked \u201cReal Fresh Laid,\u201d and\nonly those in the mistress\u2019s confidence knew that another place must be\nsought for eggs that actually deserved this title. But from the latter\nstore one or more eggs disappeared daily. No one but those in the house\ncould go with such unfailing certainty to the choicest store. Many were\nthe conjectures, and suspicion at last fell on a maid-servant. But the\nmistress one day felt an obstruction under a door mat, and lifting the\nmat she saw a collection of egg-shells that gave her the clew to the\nthief. Jet was undoubtedly the culprit, though how he had managed to\nget at the contents of the egg-tray remained a mystery. The maid\u2019s\ncharacter was cleared of suspicion, though it was pointed out to her\nwith some force that she had only her own slovenly habits of cleaning\nto thank for having been suspected.\n\nJet at this time was a very independent little dog, as he was left to\nhis own devices while his master was engaged in the parish. Being of\na friendly disposition, he made many acquaintances among his fellows,\nhis chosen friend being a large spaniel, who lived in the yard of Jet\u2019s\nhome. This spaniel was fastened up during the day to act as guardian\nto the shop, and it was not till business hours were over that he was\nlet loose and allowed to rove at liberty. One day Jet had what might\nwell have been a serious encounter in the streets with a large mongrel,\nand it was only the little thing\u2019s nimbleness that saved him from the\nchastisement the other was anxious to inflict. Jet\u2019s master was absent\nfrom home, so the dusky mite took refuge with his friend the spaniel,\nwhose house he refused to leave for the remainder of the day.\n\nWhat was it that passed between the two dogs in those long hours they\nspent together, before the time of relief for the larger one came? It\nis a case in which we feel we would give much to be able to pierce the\nunknown nature of their communications. As soon as the spaniel was\nunfastened, he and Jet were seen to start off at once on an expedition\nthat looked like business. There was no aimless roving or barking. Jet\nled the way, and his big friend followed. After some search they came\nupon the mongrel, and without the slightest sign of hesitation the\nspaniel made for him and proceeded to business. Jet meantime sat down\nquietly on the pavement and awaited developments. The spaniel\u2019s size\nwas in his favour, and he managed in the end to drive the enemy off the\nfield. As soon as this was done Jet joined him, and the two trotted\nquietly back together. That the story of the mornings adventures had\nby some means been conveyed by Jet to his friend, it seems scarcely\npossible to doubt in view of their subsequent action.\n\nJet\u2019s next change of residence took him back to the family house in\ntown, where he met his future mistress. He attached himself to her\nfrom the first, and always remained devoted to her. Yet with this\none exception Jet\u2019s greatest friend throughout life was himself. He\nshowed his capacity for affection in the strong and deep attachment\nhe displayed to his mistress, but outside this he was a self-centred\nlittle epicurean, to whom personal comfort and the good things of this\nlife were of paramount importance. He showed a gentlemanly regard for\nall members of the family, and was very popular with the servants. The\nlatter always spoke of him as \u201cLittle Master Jet,\u201d for the custom begun\nin jest soon grew into a habit. \u201cShall I take out little Master Jet?\u201d\nor \u201cWhat will little Master Jet have for dinner?\u201d came to be regarded\nas a matter of course in speaking of him.\n\nWhen the time came for Jet\u2019s lawful owner to leave home, there was\ntrouble with the determined little spaniel. He clung resolutely to the\nmistress he had chosen, and no bribes would draw him from her side.\nEven his favourite dainties had no charm for him, when their enjoyment\nmeant leaving the shelter he had taken up. Finally the schoolroom\nparty, of which Jet\u2019s friend was the eldest member, clubbed their money\ntogether and bought him at his original price. The rules in the house\nwere stringent about pets, but Jet, finding the hours long when his\nmistress was at lessons, refused to be bound by them. He even made good\nhis place in the drawing room, sacred to the elders. Here he one day\nfound his owner\u2019s grandmother in tears on her couch. Springing up to\nher, he expressed his sympathy with rose-leaf tongue and silky paws in\nsuch dainty fashion that from that moment his position was assured.\n\nNo dog ever had a stronger sense of fun than Jet. He dearly loved a\npractical joke, and showed the nicest discrimination in the choice of\nthe pranks he played on the different members of the household. He\nwas a capital jumper, and very quick in his movements, and no sooner\ndid he see one of his older friends lean forward in his chair in the\nexcitement of conversation than a rapid spring would carry him into the\nspace behind the speaker. The instant he had accomplished this he would\nto all appearance fall into such a ridiculously sound slumber that\nhe was deaf to all blandishments addressed to him. But no sooner had\nhe been lifted from his perch than he was as wide awake as ever, and\nevidently well pleased with the successful carrying out of his coup.\n\nThe trick for the younger ones was of a different nature, as it was no\nfun to usurp a place that was instantly ceded to him. A tiny scratch\nat the door would demand admission to the schoolroom, but when it was\nthrown open for him, there was no Jet to be seen. A few minutes later\nthe same signal would be made, and always with the same result. His\ndusky colour and his rapid movements aided him in his flight, but if\nhis victim waited inside the door to catch him, not a sound would be\nheard until she had resumed her seat. At last Jet\u2019s excitement could no\nlonger be controlled, and a bark from his place of concealment would\nbetray his presence. These tricks were entirely of his own devising,\nbut his young owners soon taught him the usual accomplishments, and he\nwould beg or trust to order. But he was sometimes called upon for his\nperformances when he did not feel inclined for them. Then no power on\nearth would move him. It was no uncommon sight for one of his young\ninstructors to be on her knees, scolding and propping Jet up, in the\nvain hope of getting a regulation beg from him. Time after time Jet\nwould fall a little backboneless heap on the floor, really a much\nbetter piece of acting than the stereotyped trick he was asked for.\n\nHis walks on the chain, with his mistress in town, were a model of\npropriety. But with the youngest member of the schoolroom party,\nwhenever the honour of his guardianship was confided to her, the result\nwas very different. Then mad rushes at fat-legged children, and shrill\nbarks at nervous passers-by came to heighten the pleasures of the walk,\nand it is to be feared that they were not altogether displeasing to\nhis small guardian. It was only play, and the young things at either\nend of the lead had not yet learned to take life seriously.\n\nIt was on the occasion of his chosen mistress\u2019s first dance that Jet\nagain showed his distinguishing talent. He always loved bright colours\nand evening dress, and when he saw his mistress in all the glories of\nher first ball dress, he showed his admiration in the most flattering\nway by walking backwards in front of her with little yelps of approval.\nWhen she left him his owner kissed her thanks to the discerning mite,\nand whispered to him not to be dull, but to enjoy himself. This\ninjunction Jet proceeded to carry out.\n\nHe was left in the dining room, where a meal had been put on the\ntable for the master of the house, who was not expected home till\na late hour. When he arrived he received a warm welcome from Jet.\nEverything looked cosy and inviting to a tired traveller, but it\nseemed the parlourmaid had been forgetful. Butter and cheese had both\nbeen forgotten. True, both cheese and butter dish were on the table,\nbut neither of them had been used. Thinking it too late to disturb\nthe household, the meal was made without them. The next morning the\nmistress of the house, having been told of the oversight, mentioned it\nto the parlourmaid. But the maid indignantly denied the imputation. She\nwas certain she had put both butter and cheese ready for the master.\n\nCould Jet know anything about it? It seemed improbable, for neither the\nmeat nor any of the other dishes on the table had been touched, and\nthese would have been much more to his taste than the missing things.\nThere was not the faintest paw-mark to suggest his having been on the\ntable, and the two empty dishes seemed to say that nothing had been\nlaid on them. Later it was discovered that the cheese was missing from\nthe larder, but nothing explained the mystery until the remains of\nthe nibbled cheese were discovered in a rounded recess in the dining\nroom where the sideboard stood. It had been so cleverly concealed that\nit only came to light when the sideboard itself was moved. With its\ndiscovery Jet\u2019s crime was made clear. He had evidently jumped on the\ntable to investigate, and with his usual discrimination refraining from\ntouching what would have proclaimed his guilt at once, he had eaten the\nbutter and cleaned the dish so that no trace of his work was left. Then\nhe must have pushed the cheese from the table, taking care to leave no\nsign behind, and after finishing his meal on it, put it cleverly out of\nsight.\n\nThe hold Jet had by this time secured in the family affection was\nproved by the fact that his mistress\u2019s parting injunction to enjoy\nhimself was held to be the cause of the crime, and it was decreed that\nthe delinquent was not to be punished.\n\nIt may be easily believed that the kitchen was no place for such a\nfascinating dog. Visits to the cook were found to injure his digestion,\nand they were sternly forbidden. The study, however, was on the ground\nfloor, for the house being built on a hill, the windows of the back\nroom opened on to the large garden common to all the houses of the\nlong row. A visit to the study often gave Jet his opportunity. While\nhis own mistress was in the schoolroom Jet would go to the study with\nher mother. One morning, having omitted to close the door after her,\nhis temporary guardian found that Jet had left her. Calling to him she\nsaw a little dusky form creep noiselessly from the front kitchen, pass\nthe open door without a sound, and make his way upstairs. A second\nlater an excited and noisy little dog came clattering downstairs, and\nrushed into the study with every manifestation of joy at having found\nout where she was. The cleverness of his acting here again saved him\nfrom punishment for disobedience to orders.\n\nJet, as I have said, was fed with great care, and such unwholesome\ndainties as bones of birds were forbidden him. But it was often noticed\nthat when he came in from a run in the big gardens he had been eating\nsomething. One day he was so uncomfortable that, dropping concealment,\nhe came to his mistress for assistance. A fine bone had worked its way\ninto his upper lip. His mistress was puzzled as to how it came there,\nbut concluded that some cat must have taken it into the gardens. A few\ndays later the croquet things were wanted, and as soon as the box was\nopened, Jet\u2019s supply of bones stood revealed. There in a corner was a\nlittle hoard of grouse bones.\n\n[Illustration: THE ARTISTIC THIEF\n\nJET]\n\nThe box stood in the small space between the top of the kitchen stairs\nand the door that led into the gardens. The bones must have been taken\nfrom the plates as they were brought from the dining room, and the\nhalf-open box that stood invitingly near offered a ready place of\nconcealment. In Jet\u2019s many unattended excursions into the gardens he\nmust have visited his store and taken some out for present enjoyment,\nbut never by a sniff as he passed at any other time did he betray their\npresence. Doubtless he heard with complacency, touched by grief at the\nloss of his store, the admiration expressed for his talents and his\nself-restraint.\n\nOnly once was Jet surprised in the act. An open larder door and\nan eager attentive collie, gazing with longing at an upper shelf,\nsurprised him out of his usual attention to details. The larder floor\nwas sunk, and from the top of the unguarded steps it was the work of\na moment for Jet to jump on to the opposite shelf. Here he proceeded\nto lift the wire covering from a couple of ducks, and not having made\ngood his bearings previously, he was discovered busily employed by\nthe kitchen authority, when she returned to close the door against\nintruders.\n\nAt this time it was a much disputed point between the respective\nowners of the collie and the spaniel as to which dog was the culprit\nin the matter of stealing toast from the breakfast table before any\none was down in the morning. Jet\u2019s exploit in the larder was held to\nsettle the question, and he was gently cuffed and sternly spoken to\non the subject. But Jet was not of those who suffer wrong patiently.\nThe following morning an imperious little barking creature made his\nappearance in the kitchen and induced one of the maids to go with him\nto the dining room. Here the collie was found helping himself to\ntoast, and it would be hard to say whether Jet or his mistress was the\nbetter pleased at the discovery.\n\nJet\u2019s appearance gained him a great deal of attention, and added to\nhis self-importance. His way of receiving any expression of admiration\nfrom strangers was quite his own. A blank, unseeing stare of haughty\nindifference came over him, and just the tip of a pink tongue suggested\nintentional rudeness if the attentions were too pressing. A quick\nlook of intelligence at his own people that passed like a flash\nclaimed their sympathy in his performance, and in this Jet was rarely\ndisappointed.\n\nAs a young and very healthy dog, Jet had very keen senses and a good\nmemory. His knowledge of locality was above the common, and though he\ntravelled much he was never lost, either in town or country. If his\nmistress lost him, she knew it was wilful behaviour on his part, and\nthat when the welcome call was heard at the door, a repentant mass of\nsilky black hair would soon be asking pardon at her feet. Once, indeed,\nhis owner thought he had strayed. She had taken him with her to stay\nat a friend\u2019s house in a strange part of London, and they arrived at\ntheir destination in a thick fog. Almost immediately Jet demanded\nto be let out, and so insistent was he that at last the front door\nwas opened for him. Straight out into the fog he rushed, and as time\npassed without his return his mistress gave him up for lost. But Jet,\ndoubtless, had been satisfying a natural curiosity as to the nature of\nhis surroundings, and in due course a calm little dog came back, as if\nthick fog and strange houses were a matter of no moment to him.\n\nIn the country the pleasures of a walk had nothing sedate about them.\nJet hunted the country round, in spite of the drawbacks attached to his\nlong love-locks. Often, when his short nose had to trace the scent, and\nthe pace was hot, his beautiful ears would get under his front paws.\nBut a silent somersault was all that happened; he paid no attention to\nthe pain, in the eagerness of his pursuit. The larger dogs were always\nready to follow up Jet\u2019s discoveries, and though when they looked over\nstones or banks the tiny leader had to jump on the obstacles, he was\nalways to the front.\n\nJet was always ready to lead his followers into mischief. If he did not\nfight himself, he liked seeing others fight, and was never tired of\nhaving the sheep chased in the park at his suggestion. A young collie\nwas a great ally of his, and Jet was once watched as he collected\na brood of young chickens and set the other dog to drive them into\nthe river. At this point his owner intervened, and Jet was hurried\naway from the Highland farm where his exploit had taken place. Years\nafterwards, when Jet\u2019s happy little life was ended, his mistress was\nagain in the neighbourhood, and heard from the lips of a stranger\nstaying at the farm the history of the little black dog\u2019s mischievous\nperformance, which on a former visit he had watched from a window.\n\nWhen Jet and his mistress first went to live in the country, the latter\nbegan to keep chickens. These lived in a stable, and a small hole\ncut in the door let them in to nests and safety. There were great\ncacklings in the mornings, which raised their owner\u2019s hopes high, but\nit was seldom indeed that an egg was found. Jet\u2019s mistress, who was new\nto country occupations and was keenly interested in the success of her\nchickens, studied books on the subject, and watched her unsatisfactory\nhens with care. There was never a sign of a broken egg-shell about the\nplace, and she therefore scouted the idea with scorn that Jet should be\ninterested in the matter. One day, however, she called Jet to her when\nshe had in her hand an egg that was to be cut up for her canaries. Jet\ncame running up in answer to the call, but no sooner did he see the egg\nthan he fell on his back, with waving paws in the air, a self-convicted\ncriminal.\n\nThe question now was as to how the mischief had been wrought. Many were\nthe theories suggested, but one after another they were all felt to be\nuntenable. A few days afterwards Jet\u2019s old friend the collie had to be\nfastened up, as a disagreeable neighbour had a still more disagreeable\ngamekeeper, and the latter threatened to shoot all dogs found on his\nland. This proved to be Jet\u2019s undoing.\n\nAs soon as he was let out in the morning, Jet made his way to the\nstable, squeezed his small body through the door, and without\ndestroying the friendly relations between him and the mothers, secured\nhis morning feast of eggs. Leaving no trace of his meal, he was seen\nto come out, bearing a shell in his mouth, and look round for the\ncollie. He then went back and brought away every remnant of shell that\nwould have borne evidence against him. But no friendly collie came\nat his call to eat up the little pile of broken shell and thus bring\nthe enterprise to its usual successful ending. Jet had done his part\nwith all the finish of an accomplished conspirator, but the egg-shells\nremained as a witness against him. When his mistress paid her usual\nafter-breakfast visit to the chicken yard, Jet showed no disposition to\naccompany her.\n\nThe tiny creature had a brave heart, and before he left his London\nhome he saved the house from being robbed. Along the row of houses ran\na parapet that led past some of the bedroom windows, of which Jet\u2019s\nmistress\u2019s room was one. While the family were downstairs at dinner,\nJet was lying on the bed in this room. A man who came creeping along\nthe parapet stopped at the window and prepared to effect an entrance.\nBut Jet was on the alert, and springing from the bed he barked his\nloudest, thereby causing the burglar to move on, and in time bringing\nhis family up to see what dire misfortune could have happened to him.\nBut though resolute in doing his duty, Jet had no taste for acting\nguard, and never again would he be left alone in that room.\n\nHe was about two and a half years old when he first went with his\nfamily to the seaside. He had not seen the sea since he left his first\nhome at the age of six months, but he greeted the sight of it as that\nof an old friend. His first performance was to lead a younger but much\nlarger dog into difficulties over the slippery seaweed-covered rocks.\nTo Jet\u2019s slight form and active ways these presented no difficulty; but\nhe insisted on the other dog following him until, the puppy\u2019s strength\nand courage both failing, he came to a standstill in a spot perilously\nnear the advancing waves. Then Jet was satisfied, and hastened back to\nhis friends to tell them their assistance was needed. While he watched\nthe rescue there was an air of self-possessed interest and innocent\nenjoyment about him that he always displayed on these occasions.\n\nThe hour of bathing was not one of unmixed enjoyment for Jet. He had\nno idea of risking his dainty form in the vast expanse of water, and\nresisted all invitations to join in his friends\u2019 pleasure. But when he\nsaw his mistress plunge into unknown dangers, he no longer hesitated.\nWith a spring and a splash he resolutely faced the peril for himself,\nand swam out to her assistance. After this, Jet\u2019s devotion was not put\nto the test again.\n\nNo one realised that the active little creature had passed the prime\nof life till an accident brought the sad fact home to his friends. He\nseemed to do no more than give a passing sniff at a dead rat, but the\nwhiff of strychnine was enough to give him slight spasms and fits, from\nwhich it took him long to recover. Never again was Jet to enjoy life\nwith the same irresponsible freedom that had marked his earlier days.\nWhen his sight began to weaken, he was very tetchy about its being\nnoticed, for his ardent little spirit could not brook the restraining\nlimits of a semi-invalid existence. Yet he lived to a good old age, and\nonly left his many friends when sixteen summers had brought him the\nvaried joys of which he had known how to make the most.\n\n\n\n\nBOOK II\n\nSTUDIES AND STORIES\n\n\n\n\nI\n\n\u201c_A continuous chain of small actions, on the thread of character._\u201d\n\n\nIn reading the life stories of the five dogs whom I have chosen for\nspecial notice, we must, I think, be struck with the remarkable effect\non each of the particular environment of his life. Is this not the\nvery effect that the circumstances of his early years has on a child?\nWhen in later life we meet a man or a woman who has been reared in a\nhome circle of culture and refinement, there are many subtle marks and\nintangible echoes of those early days that make themselves felt in\nspite, it may be, of rougher and less elevating conditions of later\nyears. While the human character is individual and marked off as a\npersonal attribute, the mind has responded to the influences of the\nsurroundings in which the most impressionable part of the life was\npassed.\n\nI believe that it is the same with dogs. The ego, the personal entity\nthat gives to each member of the canine race his individual claim\non our humanity, is made akin to us by his response to the mental\ntraining we give him. If the dog were nothing more than an automaton,\nsuch response would not, and could not, have the strong individual\ncharacteristics that bring the dog into such close union with us. The\nmore we study dog life, and strive with all the disabilities that meet\nus at every turn to enter into the feelings and probe the motives of\nthe dog\u2019s conduct, the more, I am persuaded, we shall recognise the\nevidence of the sense of a personal entity that marks each dog off from\nhis fellows. It is the individual dog, with his particular gifts of\nbody, mind, and spirit,--the adumbration of the higher powers that in\ntheir full expansion are the heritage of the human race,--that claims\nour sympathy, and establishes his hold on our affections. This, for the\ntrue dog-lover, is the keynote to the study of his character, and the\nonly light we can bring to bear on the inner workings of his mind.\n\nIt is from this standpoint, therefore, that I would refer to the\nsalient features of the biographies.\n\nThe most cursory glance at the life stories of these dogs will show\nhow unfitted each one was to play his part in the surroundings of any\nother. Bandy, who is perhaps the most remarkable instance of a dog\nliving a corporate life with humans, had a large-hearted outlook that\ncould only have been evolved in a member of a community. In his case\nthe wideness of his sympathies and interests seemed to some extent\nto limit the range of his home affections. While loving and loyal,\nwithout a shadow of doubt, to his owner and his house companions, he\nhad not the clinging, passionate devotion that was the keynote of the\nlife of \u201cThe Child of the House.\u201d The scope for the latter\u2019s powers\nwas smaller, and, his development being thus limited, the force of his\nnature seemed to find an outlet in the wealth of his affections. With\ndifferent training Gubbins\u2019s undoubted discrimination of character,\nand his subtle appreciation of his own rights, might well have been\ndeveloped at the expense of the overflowing of love that necessarily\nbrought some suffering as well as much joy into his little life. Then\nthere was his innate love of sport, and his natural independence\nof character, that were repressed rather than brought out by the\ncircumstances of his life. He was, in fact, the home bird, who was\nequally unfitted for the rougher give-and-take of school life or for\nthe rousing adventures of \u201cA Soldier of Fortune.\u201d\n\nThen the fascinating, pleasure-loving Jet could never have brought\nhis skill in theft and mischief to the perfection of a fine art if it\nhad not been for the tacit encouragement his lenient mistress gave\nhim. He was the spoiled darling, whose good looks and taking manners\ncarried him safely through his escapades. With a sterner view of moral\ndiscipline in his owner, Jet might have been a more exemplary, but must\ninevitably have become a much more commonplace, member of his kind.\n\nIn Bruce, \u201cThe Diplomatist,\u201d many years of whose life were passed away\nfrom the care of his special friend, we see the independent settlement\nof his affairs that his position called for. When he had been used to\ntake the first place, not even the loving guardianship of his temporary\nowners could reconcile him to being second. Though he conformed to\ncircumstances with a good grace, in accordance with his love of\ndecorum, he would choose a home for himself, when for the second time\nhis master was leaving him. In this he could not have made a better\nchoice. He reigned supreme, and had the most loving care lavished on\nhim, not only for his own sake, but for that of his absent master, who\nwas the eldest and much loved son of the house.\n\nJack, of fighting memory, was remarkable for the self-restraint and\ngenerosity that not all the brutal associations of his early life\nhad been able to kill. Though he had given an intelligent response\nto his training, and understood that from his first owner\u2019s point of\nview fighting was a business and not a pastime, he took no unholy\npleasure in rousing up an antagonist. Rather, as he understood the grim\nrealities of action, he shrank from provoking a combat, from which,\neven with the honours of war, he would take away many a wound as an\nunpleasant reminder. In fact, his experience had taught him to look\non war from the standpoint of the soldier who knows that he takes his\nlife in his hand every time he goes into action. And Jack had the marks\nof a true soldier in his relations to his superiors and his fellows.\nObedient, staunch to the death, he would fight to the end, but he must\nhave an antagonist worthy of his powers. An amateur was no match for\nhim, and if in wanton play or ungoverned temper the unskilled fighter\nattacked him, Jack gave him a lesson for his presumption, but tempered\nhis punishment to the powers of resistance arrayed against him. He was\nloyal to his friends, had a tender sympathy with suffering, and showed\nhis gratitude for a good home in peaceful surroundings by a vigilant\nguardianship of his mistress.\n\nThe character of each dog as we study it stands out in plain relief,\nas the expression of that inner life which appeals to our own\nexperience at every turn. To me it seems a monstrous thing to suppose\nthat the care for his own life and those committed to his individual\nguardianship which the dog shows, can be any other than the visible\nexpression of his consciousness of an ego, endowed with powers and\nduties which only he, in his own person, can perform. That he has a\nclear idea of responsibility is manifest by his conduct, and why should\nthis be whittled away from its obvious significance till we are asked\nto believe that the dog\u2019s behaviour is to be attributed to quite other\nmotives than those that govern our own actions?\n\nWe know the strange and often inexplicable intuition that is shown by a\nchild whose powers are as yet undeveloped in the choice of a friend or\nguardian. He seems to know by unerring instinct the one, among a number\nof friends, in whose heart he will find a response to the cravings of\nhis own young affections. He shows his confidence in, and a clinging\ndependence on, the chosen one that bring their own reward. The same\nintuition was shown by my own Skye terrier when he was first brought\nto my house. The friend then staying with me, to whom he was given, is\na true dog-lover, and she accepted the care of the shy little stranger\nwith all her accustomed gentleness and consideration. It was to her\nthat Gubbins looked for the first caresses that greeted him in his new\nhome. He was looked upon, as indeed he was, as her property for the\ntime being. She had no dog of her own with her, and Gubbins slept in\nher room at night and had all the privileges of a favoured friend.\n\nOn the other hand, I had two dogs almost always with me, and from one\nof them I was constantly receiving the most demonstrative tokens of\naffection. I refrained studiously from taking notice of Gubbins in the\nearly days, partly from the fear of exciting the jealousy of the older\ninhabitants of the house, and partly because I did not wish to have my\naffection enlisted by the wild, shy little mortal, whose life seemed an\nunending round of rude shocks to his too sensitive nervous system.\n\nYet underneath all this there were causes at work which could not have\nbeen known to Gubbins, and yet which his conduct seemed to show he had\nappreciated almost at the first glance. His mistress had a favourite\ndog at home, whose rule could never have been disputed by another.\nShe had nothing to give Gubbins but the temporary care and kindness\nthat his forlorn condition demanded. On the other hand, the dogs I\nhad then were not, and could never have been, more than friends of\nmoderate claims. Only one indeed belonged to me, the other being the\nbulldog whose tragic outbreak I have recorded elsewhere. My own Basset\nhound, picturesque and deep-tongued, and pleasant to look on as she\nwas, was one of the few canine idiots I have ever known. She seemed\nto be absolutely devoid of intelligence, and though on the show bench\nand elsewhere she would always give me an exuberantly loving welcome\nthat was very impressive to strangers, I knew that to any one of her\nfriends she would give an equally demonstrative greeting. Even a chance\nvisitor to the house would, as likely as not, be distinguished in the\nsame way. As Rica had no discrimination in her affections, so she had\nno power of responding to mental training. Every day of the week saw\nthe same lesson of some simple matter of conduct given to her, and each\nday she would offend in the same way, not from obstinacy or love of\nwrong-doing, but because all memory of correction had passed completely\nfrom her mind. It was one of the funniest things I have ever seen with\nmy dogs, to watch Rica take up her position in the winter close--too\nclose, as she ought to have known from reiterated warnings--to a\nblazing fire, and there, sitting up with her great wrinkled head\nnodding in sleep, enjoy the warmth till she threatened to roll over\ninto the fireplace. The blankness that looked out from her clear brown\neyes, the lack of the nameless expression that speaks from a dog\u2019s\nevery movement and look, were utterly wanting to her, and told their\nown tale to the onlooker.\n\nSuch a dog was not one to engage her owner\u2019s affections, and it has\nalways seemed as if Gubbins must have had some strange intuition of the\nconditions that obtained among his new friends, in attaching himself\nto me as he did. In spite of my studied aloofness and the presence of\nmy constant canine attendants, he showed a preference for my company\nfrom the first, and never rested till he had made good his right to\na place in my bedroom. Yet in so doing he was thrown with the other\ndogs, whose noisy exuberance of spirits were, in his then state of\ncowed repression, an obvious trial to his nerves, and he would shrink\naway terrified into a corner at any outbreak from them. With my friend\nhe would have had his own quiet place in her room, without shocks from\nstronger nerved companions; and everything seemed to point to his\nresponding with gratitude to the advances she made to him. But Gubbins\nwould have none of them; and as those who have read his life know, he\nwon his future home by the determined selection he made.\n\nWhile a tender living up to his position as a member of a small home\nparty, lightened by moments of expansion when fun and mischief made\na veritable child of him, was the distinguishing characteristic of\nGubbins\u2019s life, we find the same dominant note of personal character\nin each of the other dogs\u2019 histories. With Bruce it was a strong sense\nof social obligations and a finished ease of manner in fulfilling\nthem. An independent weighing of cause and effect in the case of his\nown requirements and in the carrying out of his plans was also seen in\nhim. Of the matter of his independence in his mysterious visit to the\nrailway station to meet his master, when the latter was expected by a\ntrain and route he seldom used, I have nothing further to say. I have\nelsewhere vouched for the truth of the facts as I have given them, but\nthe explanation of his conduct I must leave to wiser heads than mine.\n\nIn Bandy a wonderful mastery of, and association of himself with, the\ncomplicated machinery of the daily routine of a large public school\nis the prevailing note. Times and seasons were known to him in a\nmarvellous way, and in the many interests into which he threw himself\nwith all the ardour of his nature he showed the wonderful development\nof his mind that was the result of his intimate fellowship with a large\nbody of humans. The strength of his conviction as to his rights as a\nmember of a body of free-born Englishmen is shown as well by his act\nof vengeance on his master when he thought he was unfairly treated as\nby the manner of his tragic death. Freedom to the free, was the motto\nBandy lived up to in his life, and defended with his latest breath.\n\nJack, of less subtle mind, had the fearless outlook on life that\nis characteristic of the good soldier. A stern determination to do\nhis duty, obedience to orders, whether of attack or restraint, and\nan open-hearted loyalty were the surprising results of a training\nthat might well have left him a brutal exponent of his brutalised\nowners\u2019 methods of training. But here we have a case of a good natural\ndisposition unspoiled by early association with vicious men. As Jack\nwas untouched by the evil of his masters\u2019 methods, he, with simple\nfaith in, and obedience rendered to the orders given, escaped the\ndegradation of those who, with the free exercise of higher powers, were\nresponsible for his early exploits.\n\nA dainty enjoyment of the good things of this life, and an\nirresponsible method of attaining his ends, were the leading traits\nof Jet\u2019s life. His appearance and manners aiding him, he took full\nadvantage of the opportunities the circumstances of his life afforded\nhim for the carrying out of his simple creed. His horizon was limited,\nand to Jet he himself was the god, whose smile or frown made or unmade\nthe world in which he lived.\n\n\n\n\nII\n\n  \u201c_The dogge, a natural, kind, and loving thing,\n  As witnesseth our histories of old._\u201d\n\n\nIf we accept the fact that the powers of intelligence shown by the\ndog are of the same kind as, though of a lower degree of development\nthan, those that form our own mental processes, we start with a premise\nthat clears many difficulties from our path. But even so, if we would\npenetrate the secrets that lie behind the engaging variety of his\nactions, we must take into account many things that cause the dog\u2019s\noutlook on life to be different from our own. We must ever bear in\nmind that it is only in considering our friend\u2019s surroundings as they\nappear to _him_ we can hope to grasp the effect of those surroundings\non his mind. We are apt to conclude hastily that, because such and such\na thing strikes us in a particular way, our dog will be affected by\nit in a precisely similar manner. And the delusion is fostered by the\nbroad general characteristics of our mental resemblance to him. But if\nwe would have more than a superficial understanding of our dogs, we\nmust bring a sympathetic comprehension of life as it appears to them,\nto mark the differences, as well as grasp the affinities, of the mental\nand moral conditions that are in a general sense common to us both.\n\nYet with all the difficulties that lie in our path we can write the\nlife history of the dog as we can of no other animal. More sympathetic\nthan the cat, more constantly our companion than the horse, we can\nstudy him under conditions that obtain with no other of his kind.\nFrom the first days of his puppyhood to the closing hours of his life\nwe can trace the gradual unfolding of his powers and the widening of\nhis knowledge of life. This, too, we can do with but an ordinarily\nintelligent interest brought to bear on the little life that is at once\nso near our own, and yet cut off from us by the impassable barrier\nof want of human speech. \u201cHow much he could tell us if he could only\nspeak,\u201d a devoted attendant of a little dog used often to say, when in\nhis own way and by his own limited powers of language the intelligent\ncreature had made his friends understand that his surroundings were in\nsome way not suited to the needs of the moment.\n\nIt is in the physical conditions of our life that we must seek for\nthe first points of contact with the dog. In both our own and canine\nlife we have, of course, the same foundation of bodily activity in\nthe marvellous machinery of the nervous system. But this bond we have\nin common with all living creatures, and it has therefore no special\nvalue when we are studying our relations with the dog. Above this,\nwe have the power of instinct, or, as it has been called, \u201cmaterial\nintelligence.\u201d\n\nThen we come face to face with a power in the dog that cannot be\nexplained by the wonders of reflex action as we learn them in the\nstudy of physiology. The motive power of the action must be sought\nin the intangible essence of mind, and not in the material organs of\nthe body. It is when this motive power has passed under the full sway\nof the mind, and we have advanced from the realm of instinct into the\nregions where the evidences of higher mental power are before us, that\nwe recognise the dog as our fellow in the comradeship of life. For\nthough in the dog we do not find the more highly differentiated powers\nof instinct, his inferiority in this respect to insects that come far\nlower in the scale of life is counterbalanced by his powers of mind,\nthat in their higher expression we claim to be akin to our own. We hail\nthe evidences of disinterested affection, of sympathy, of fortitude,\nand of trust, as links in the chain that binds our dog friend to us in\na close mental and moral fellowship.\n\nWhen \u201cthe one\u201d among all dogs will give up his daily walk--the one\ndelight that never fails--to watch by our sick-bed, or comfort us by\nhis presence in our sorrow, the simple act of self-denial appeals to us\nas an evidence of the perfect comradeship of disinterested affection.\n\nWe do not need to be told of the dark hours that come to us when\none whom we love has been taken from us, or of the craving for the\ncompanionship that is lost that takes possession of us. Our interest\nin our daily pursuits is gone, and a blank feeling of desolation saps\nour energies. When a dog shows grief in the same way, sitting alone and\ndesolate, refusing food and all the joys of his daily life, the link of\nsympathy is strong between us, as we recognise that he is afflicted\nwith a sense of loss akin to that which has saddened our own life.\n\nMy first dog came to me, and indeed made his place good in my\naffection, while he was suffering the keenest grief at the loss of\nhis owner. In the many changes of life in India, Jell\u2019s mistress was\ncalled to join her husband in a distant station and, the heat in the\nplains still being great, she did not wish to take her dog with her.\nKnowing that I was wanting a dog, she offered hers to me. But Jell was\nnot prepossessing in appearance, and indeed well deserved the epithet\nof \u201cthoroughbred mongrel.\u201d As I have a predisposition in favour of\nwell-bred dogs, I declined the proffered gift. But on the morning\nof my friend\u2019s departure the large, white, leggy, and bullet-headed\nterrier--so called--made its appearance in my verandah, with a note\nexplaining his presence. No home had offered for him, and he was thrown\non my generosity to provide him with one. This I determined to do\nelsewhere, as soon as might be, but in the meantime I was confronted\nwith the problem of reconciling Jell to his present quarters, so far at\nleast as to preserve his life. In the first moment of my displeasure at\nhis arrival, I had ordered him off to the compound in the charge of the\nmehtar who had brought him to me. But I distrusted a native\u2019s methods\nwith dogs, and something in the dejected appearance of Jell as he was\nbeing led away softened my heart so far that I decided to take charge\nof him myself.\n\nHe lay in my room, crying for hours together. He would take no\ninterest in anything, showed a fine disregard of all attempts to win\nhis favour, and refused to touch his food. At the end of the second day\nI began to wonder what I should do with him, and was heartily wishing\nthat he had not been cast on my hands, when I became aware that two\nsoft eyes were watching me from the far corner of the room. There was\nan expression of dawning confidence in the look, that gave me hope of\nbetter things in store. I waited, and in a little time Jell raised his\nhead and sat up, with his gaze still fixed on my face. Presently he\nrose and came to my side, and made the first advances of friendship.\nTo these he suffered my response with a far from flattering lack of\neagerness. Nevertheless, the first step had been taken, and I was\nadmitted to a place in his affections. This place I never forfeited;\nfor Jell, in spite of his want of good looks, did not find another\nhome, but remained my constant and devoted attendant to the day of his\ndeath.\n\nWith a small terrier named Floss a friend had a similar experience,\nthough this little dog had a far more chequered history in her English\nlife than Jell had in India. Floss came to her future mistress with\nonly an announcement by telegraph that she might be expected on a\ncertain day. The man who sent her promised her history later, and in\ndue course both the terrier and the story of her deeds arrived. First,\nFloss reached her new home just as the house was being closed for\nthe night. The basket, when opened in the kitchen, disclosed a small\nterrier with black and tan head and black spot and fiery eyes, of a\nmost uncompromising expression of countenance. The little thing sat\nup, glared at the strangers round her, and defended herself with her\nteeth from all attempts to touch her. At last, in despair, the basket\nwas turned over and Floss rolled on to the floor. She then put her\nback against the dresser, and showed that she still meant to keep off\nintruders. All thought of taming her was for the time given up, and her\nbasket being righted, Floss was allowed to take possession of it, and\nboth were then carried up to her new owner\u2019s bedroom. As the little\nthing had been travelling for twenty-four hours, she was offered food\nand water; but she would have none of them, and continued to sit up\nstraight in her basket, a very forlorn and vigilant little figure. Many\ntimes during the night her mistress roused herself to see how Floss was\ngetting on, and always the same watchful and sad-looking terrier gazed\nback at her, showing by a low growl her displeasure at the interest\ndisplayed.\n\n[Illustration: SUSPICION\n\nFLOSS]\n\nIn the morning things were no better. Floss refused all advances made\nto her, and would neither drink nor eat. Basket and all, she was\ncarried down to the kitchen garden, from which she could not escape.\nHere she condescended to walk about a little, but whenever she met her\nmistress\u2019s eye she marked her disapproval of the situation by a growl.\nCarried back to the bedroom, she sat in melancholy wrath for the rest\nof the day, and was as uncompromising as ever whenever her basket was\ntouched or moved. The last thing at night her owner tried to soften\nher by turning her out on the foot of her bed; but Floss refused all\nadvances, and only growled at every movement of her companion.\n\nIn the morning, when my friend awoke, she found Floss also awake and\nwatching her. Without moving, she said in a low tone, \u201cFloss;\u201d and the\ndog immediately crawled up the bed and licked her face. Then Floss lay\ndown and submitted to a good deal of stroking and petting; and when\nbreakfast made its appearance she showed a gracious tolerance of things\nas they were by making a good meal. From the moment when she responded\nto her name dated Floss\u2019s love for her mistress, which seemed to grow\nand strengthen with every year of her life.\n\nThe first use the latter made of the establishment of good relations\nbetween them was to attend to some ugly wounds on the face and head\nthat Floss had brought with her. When the promised story of her life\ncame, these wounds were explained. It appeared that the terrier had\nbelonged to a miner in South Wales, and had taken part in badger\nbaiting. It was the custom for the miners to meet on Sunday afternoon\nfor this more than doubtful amusement. Each miner brought a dog, and\nthe performance was to see which of the dogs could bring the badger\nout of his box in four minutes. But the badger was large and fierce,\nand one dog after another--bull-terriers among them--tried in vain to\ndraw him. Then one of the miners opened his coat, and brought out the\ntiny Floss, who was only eighteen months old and weighed ten pounds.\nIn less than four minutes the game little terrier drew her formidable\nopponent, and her exploit was so much talked of that she was bought and\nsent off to a home where good terriers are ever welcome, before the\nmarks of her conflict had healed. Under gentler care Floss developed\na touching devotion to her owner, and for many years was one of the\nreigning household pets in her new home.\n\nHow many similar instances of mourning for lost friends occur to us!\nEvery one who knows anything of dogs can recall some touching story\nthat tells at once of the love that flooded, and the pain of separation\nthat darkened, the dog\u2019s life as he passed from the secure confidence\nof requited affection to the desolate uncertainty of the care of\nstrangers.\n\nWe cannot, however, remind ourselves too often that our attempts to\nunderstand the workings of the dog\u2019s mind, and the explanations that\ncommend themselves to us of the reasons for his methods of action,\nare all based on our own consciousness of cause and effect. And here\nwe must take into account the difference in the outlook on life\nbetween the dog and ourselves. The effects of environment we know\ncount for much with us. Change of scene and surroundings will give\nus fresh mental vigour as well as renewed bodily activity when both\nneed recuperation. But the change of surroundings that will give to\nus advantages that go far to prolong our span of life is as nothing\ncompared to the difference that separates our own normal outlook on\nlife from that of the dog. The four-footed friend that trots at our\nside, or scampers at large in wild enjoyment of strength and freedom,\nis marked off from us by his mode of locomotion and the position and\nbearing of his head and body. His outlook is limited by his bodily\nstructure, in spite of his strength of vision and his marvellous sense\nof smell. In the latter case, indeed, we look up to the dog from a\nlower plane, for our limited development of the sense of smell tells\nus but little of the power it gives him. That it not only differs in\ndegree but in quality is shown by the delight with which a well-bred,\ncleanly house or sporting dog will roll in some evil-smelling refuse\nthat fills us with disgust. The possession of such an organ, at once\nso different and so much more sensitive than our own, must make for\nmuch in the influence of his surroundings on the dog, and thus adds to\nthe many difficulties we have in understanding and entering into his\noutlook on life.\n\nDoubtless the sense was given him to enable him to hold his own in the\nbattle of life. He retains it in the artificial conditions of domestic\nlife, but in the days when he depended for his supply of food on the\nsuccess that crowned his efforts in the chase, it was necessary to his\nexistence. Without it he must have fallen a prey to his enemies in\nthe jungle and the forest, instead of turning the tables on superior\nbrute force by the delicacy of his organs and his superior powers of\ncombination.\n\nThe traits that have come to our household friend from his wild\nforebears are often shown even in the most highly domesticated\ninhabitants of our home. How far these inherited qualities may\ninfluence the dog\u2019s outlook on the surroundings of his present life,\nwho can say? As we watch our favourite turn round and round on the\nhearthrug, and scratch at the unresponsive rug before he curls himself\nup to sleep, we know that he is doing what his progenitors did in the\nwilds, when the action had a use that is wanting to it now in securing\nthe comfort of his rest.\n\nA strange habit of the same nature was shown by a fox terrier that\nformed one of a pack of sporting dogs. This terrier, from the time she\ntook her place in the kennels with the older dogs, was observed to turn\nround sharply whenever her food was put before her. The action aroused\nattention, though no one could say at what stage of her puppy life it\nhad been developed. She was watched, and never did she omit the rapid\nturn round as on a pivot before she tasted her food. Her mistress, who\nhad kept her pack of terriers for years, and who studies the characters\nof her little kennel friends as but few people do, made inquiries of\nher keeper, and found that when he fed the dogs, Amora always went\nthrough the same little performance as a preliminary to the business\nof eating. Up to the last day of her life it was continued, but so\nfar as is known none of her children have shown the same peculiarity.\nCertainly those that I have known in my friends\u2019 kennels have not had\nit, and no one has been able to give a satisfactory explanation of the\nhabit.\n\nA very charming reason for the unusual action was given by a little\ngirl, the niece of the owner of the kennels. The child was delighted\nwith the terrier\u2019s performance, and always begged to be allowed to\nbe present at feeding time, so as to enjoy the sight of Amora\u2019s\nturn. Being of a thoughtful nature, she one day gave the result of\nher speculations on the matter. \u201cAuntie,\u201d she said, with the engaging\ndirectness of the youthful thinker, \u201cI know why Amora turns round\nbefore her dinner. She means it for her grace.\u201d With such a solution of\nthe mystery who would venture to quarrel?\n\nWe might well bring the same gentle sympathy to bear on our own\ndealings with the dog. For we often forget that the patience we give as\na matter of course to the as yet untrained intelligence of the child\nis doubly wanted when we have to do with the dog. Intelligent as the\nlatter is, he never rises to our level of expansion of the powers of\nmind, and in reading our thoughts into his we must ever remember that\nthe higher paths of reason\u2019s play are closed to him.\n\nThat the dog has the dawning of a moral sense is clear to me, and\nthe possession brings him near to us on the outskirts of the higher\nlife, of which we alone have full enjoyment. But to give him credit\nfor powers that in their full expansion are denied him is to bring\ndiscredit on the wonderful gifts that are undoubtedly his, and for the\ndevelopment of which he is dependent on his intercourse with us. The\ndeeper the sympathetic insight we bring to bear on our study of his\nmental and bodily activities, the fuller will be his response to our\ntraining, and the greater our own delight in his companionship.\n\n\n\n\nIII\n\n\u201c_La mas racional_\u201d--_the one that reasons best_.\n\n\nThe nearest approach to the old tribal conditions of the ancestors\nof the dog we find in kennel life at the present day. Here we have\nthe struggle for mastery, the sense of personal rights, the love and\njealousy, sympathy and hate, cleverness and stupidity, that find their\ncounterpart in our own social life, as they did in the communities of\nwolves and jackals that ranged the forests in bygone days. In a kennel\nof hounds we have the strongly marked individualities of character that\ndivide off each one from the other, and give endless scope for study\nto those who have the patience and sympathy to devote to the task. It\nwas in India, where many an early morning ride after jackal lives in my\nmemory, that I first realised this wonderful individuality of hounds.\nThe master of the pack with which I hunted one winter was a friend of\nmine, and often on non-hunting days the ride with which my day in the\nplains always began was in company with the master, who made a point\nof taking his hounds out for exercise himself. I soon came to know the\nhounds by sight, and heard from the master\u2019s lips of their several\ntraits and peculiarities. The knowledge gave me an added pleasure in\nwatching their performances in the field; and what little I have of\nhound knowledge I owe in the first instance to this study of a scratch\npack that was remarkable for neither looks nor symmetry, as these are\nunderstood in England to-day. Yet uneven as they were in size, and\nrough as many were in appearance, there was some of the best foxhound\nblood of our English kennels in their veins, and to each individual\nhound the very best of training was given. This was done by a careful\nstudy of the capacity, temper, and disposition of each hound in the\npack, such as only an enthusiast in the matter of hound work would\nbring to bear on the subject.\n\nThe social life of the ancestors of our dogs was forced upon them by\nthe necessity of protection against common enemies, and the need of\nmutual assistance in the capture of prey. In this life each member had\nto find and keep his own allotted place. The competition that is one of\nthe marks by which each member of a community shows the best or worst\nof which he is capable, and finds his level accordingly, was not absent\nfrom the life of the dog\u2019s forebears. Each dog must take the place he\nwas fitted for in the common life, and doubtless that assigned to him\nhe often won by fighting for it. For the dog is a quarrelsome animal,\nand Dr. Watts was not wrong in his natural history when he wrote of the\n\u201cdelight of dogs to bark and bite.\u201d We may note, too, that he puts the\ngreater and commoner pleasure, as we still see it exercised to-day,\nfirst; but fighting, among animals as among men, is a necessity of\nexistence to the community while the conditions of life remain what\nthey are.\n\nThis quarrelsomeness which we regret in our favourites, and that is\na real source of danger in the kennels, is a survival of the old\nconditions, when each dog tried to work himself up to the position\nof master or leader of the pack, and, failing this, had perforce to\ntake a lower place. Thus the leader, to whom the rest of the community\nlooked for guidance, would be the strongest or the most capable of the\ntribe, or one that combined both these characteristics. We have only to\nwatch a dog fight to-day to see that the combatants exercise a certain\nstrategy. No doubt the first dog that learned to double his paws under\nhim, and thus protect a vulnerable part, gained an advantage over a\nless intelligent, though it might be a heavier-built, rival. For one\nof the first methods of the canine tactician is to bite through the\nsensitive paw of his opponent; and the huntsman knows that if fighting\nin his kennels is not quelled promptly and sternly he will have many of\nhis hounds lamed from this cause.\n\nBut even in kennel life, where there is such abundant material for\nthe student of canine character, we only have the old conditions of\nprimeval dog life faintly shadowed. Though to a great extent the dog\nin the kennels is living a social life among his fellows, the ruler to\nwhom he looks is not a leader in the old sense, but a human master. In\nhis earlier days, too, he is placed more or less in the conditions that\nobtain with our domestic dogs. When only a few months old he finds a\nhome, it may be at a farmhouse, or at a neighbouring landowner\u2019s, where\nhe becomes the playmate and pet of the children of the house. If a\nhotel or the local butcher\u2019s shop receives him, the puppy makes friends\nwith the men and boys about the place, and often develops a special\naffection for his temporary master. In any case he lives the life of a\nfree, and for the most part a petted, member of a household; and when\nhe takes his place in the kennels he shows all the symptoms of grief\nfor the good things he has lost and dislike for the restraints of his\nnew life that a pampered boy will when he has his first taste of school\ndiscipline. No one who has seen a young hound, frightened, miserable,\nand homesick, sitting by himself in a corner of what for the time is to\nhim a hated prison, can doubt his suffering. He has indeed an almost\ncomic expression of misery on his naturally rather solemn countenance.\nHe has not yet found his level in his new surroundings; he has lost his\nold friends and found no one to take their place; the joys of hunting\ndays, which will go far to counterbalance the strictness of kennel\ndiscipline, are unknown to him. Henceforth he is to share in the social\nlife of his fellows, in which all are bound by a common interest to a\ncommon occupation, broken only by interludes of companionship with man.\nHe has therefore reversed the conditions of his life up to this point,\nin which companionship with man has been interspersed with interludes\nof society with other dogs.\n\nHe has now to conquer and keep the place in the pack that will\nhereafter be his by general consent. If he is masterful and\nresourceful, he will be deferred to, and, it may be, the warmest corner\non the bench will be conceded to him when time and experience have\ncome to aid him in the competition of life. In the matter of food the\nhuntsman\u2019s care will see that he gets no more than his due share, but\nwe know how at the trough some hounds have always to be restrained,\nwhile others, who as a matter of course are ready to take the second\nplace, have to be encouraged to secure their rights.\n\nThis competition, which is an integral part of community life, must,\nas it seems to me, give to each dog a consciousness of his own\npersonality. His own interests and attainments are a thing apart from\nthose of his fellows. In however dim a degree, he has a sense of\npersonal rights and property, and recognises that a higher position can\nbe won for himself individually by intelligence and courage combined.\n\nBut while in each dog will be seen the evidence of his own natural\ngifts, and he will show affection, sympathy, intelligence, or, on\nthe other hand, will be morose, selfish, or incapable of striking\nout a line of action for himself, the general character of the pack\nwill receive its impress from the hands of the huntsman. If he is at\nonce firm and sympathetic in the government of the kennel, his hounds\nwill be obedient and affectionate, and in their work will display an\neagerness and anxiety to do their best that will be a tribute to the\nexcellence of his rule.\n\nNowhere have we a more fertile field for tracing the effects of\nheredity than in a kennel. I am not concerned here with the many\ninteresting questions that arise on the physiological side of the\nsubject, but leaving make, shape, and speed as beyond our scope, we\nmay confine ourselves to the consideration of mental characteristics.\nThese do not always make their appearance at once, for the character\nof the dog, like that of man, develops with time. Many hounds do not\nshow either their faults or their virtues till their second season.\nOne experienced huntsman, indeed, used to say that he never knew what\nhis hounds were going to do till their third season. While some hounds\nwill enter at once, and never do wrong from the first day they go out\ncub-hunting, others can scarcely be induced to take an interest in the\nchase before their second season, while others again are never of any\nuse at all, and do not seem to have any taste for hunting.\n\nBut from the first days of their return to the kennel, hounds show that\nthey have a curious sympathy with those who are bound to them by the\nties of relationship. Now in the old tribal pack we may suppose that\nthese blood ties would be numerous, and that their recognition would\ntend to give a coherence to the community life by cementing the bonds\nof a common affection. It is no uncommon sight with us to see mother\nand daughter, father and son, running together in one of our packs, and\nwhile the old hounds take the lead, the young ones look to them for\nguidance and are quick to follow their example. This trait is strange\nwhen we consider that parents and children have seen nothing of one\nanother since the latter were sent out to walk. The young ones have\nhad all their early impressions of life, which must have gone far in\nforming their own mental outlook, apart from their parents\u2019 influence.\nYet the family tie has not been broken by the separation, though it is\nnot possible that the young hounds at least can remember their elders.\nIn the case of the mother we cannot say how far maternal affection\nmay bridge the gulf. That she remembers her young long after their\ndependence on her has ceased, seems clear from a case of which I can\nvouch for the truth. A mother who had been separated from her puppies\nin the ordinary way would, long after there was a possibility of purely\nphysical reasons coming into play, always trot down to the kennels\nimmediately she was let out, and lick with affection the four little\nblack noses that were thrust between the bars at her approach.\n\nVery strong evidence of the tie being recognised between parents and\nchildren is given me by Miss Serrell, who, when her terrier puppies\nreturn from walk, never hesitates to put two generations of the same\nfamily together. She tells me that the puppies\u2019 tricks and gambols,\nthat cannot but be disturbing to the older dogs, will never be resented\nby the mothers, though no other dogs in the kennels would suffer them.\nAs terriers have the character of being particularly quarrelsome, and\ncertainly require the most judicious management to keep the peace among\na number of them, no testimony to the recognition of the family tie\ncould be more convincing.\n\nThen, too, we see the same characteristics, mental and moral,\nappearing in members of the same family. How jealously this truth\nis acted upon by hound breeders, we have only to study the kennel\nregisters to see. A somewhat curious instance of unusual traits of\nindependent action by a litter brother and sister took place in the\nBlackmore Vale country.\n\nThe mother of these hounds was bred by Mr. Merthyr Guest, some ten\nyears before he resigned the Mastership. She had a great influence in\nthe kennels, and in 1894 Rama and her brother Raleigh, \u201chounds of very\nmarked character,\u201d were born to her. The account of their peculiarities\nI take verbatim as Miss Serrell has given it:[2]\n\n\u201cRama, a bright tan and white with a very intelligent head, was a\nuseful hound in the field, but she had a curious characteristic that\nwas not so much to her credit. No power and no persuasion would induce\nher to come home with the pack after a day\u2019s hunting. She would go\nto covert in the morning demurely enough, and she hunted in a most\nbusiness-like manner, but directly the day\u2019s sport was over her good\nconduct came to an end. The moment the hounds and whippers-in grouped\ntogether and the Master gave the word for \u2018home,\u2019 Rama would set off by\nherself and race up hill and down dale till she was out of sight. No\nwhipper-in could turn her, no horn recall her, and it was not till some\ntwo hours after the Master had reached home that she generally made\nher appearance at Inwood. Sometimes, however, she would make her way\nleisurely back to the kennels and sneak in during the evening.\n\n\u201cSuch unhoundlike conduct was not to be tolerated, so the order was\ngiven for her to be caught and coupled to another hound. She was then\nforced to trot home with the rest of the pack, but she did so with her\nstern down and an expression of unspeakable sadness upon her face.\nShe soon showed that she had a soul above such tyranny, for after she\nhad been captured once or twice, it was enough for the whipper-in\nto dismount and begin unbuckling the couples for her to make off.\nIndeed so sharp did she become that at last the Master did not dare\nto give the order for her to be caught, or to allow the jingling of\nthe couples, but he arranged beforehand that she should be secured\nbefore the end of the day\u2019s sport. It was not long before Rama was\non her guard even against this early capture, and with a look at the\nhunt servants she would turn and gallop off before the last covert was\ndrawn.\n\n\u201cRaleigh, a brother of Rama, was also a peculiar hound, and in his\nfirst cub-hunting season showed an extraordinary objection to coming\nout of covert with the other hounds. He would follow to the side of the\ncovert, and it was very funny to see him peeping out and disappearing\nagain if he saw he was being waited for. Again and again he would do\nthis, until at last, when the coast was clear, he would jump out and go\non with the pack as if nothing had happened. Raleigh was very fond of\nlooking into every cottage garden, but he was not such an inveterate\ncat-hunter as Rama, who would dash into and through every garden before\nshe could be stopped, and woe betide the cat who was not quick enough\nto save herself in the nearest apple-tree.\u201d\n\n[Illustration:\n\n  RALEIGH      TRIAL\n  RAMA       ARMIGER\n\nMR. GUEST\u2019S HOUNDS. 1900]\n\nIn a neighbouring country in the West, a curious trait was shown by\none of the hounds. She would never go to covert with the rest of the\npack or return home at night with them. When the work of the day began,\nshe was always up and took her full share with her fellows. But on the\nway out from kennels in the morning, she always ran by herself at some\ndistance from the others, though not too far off for her to be able to\nkeep the line to the selected covert. The same thing happened as soon\nas the word for home was given, and the solitary figure, at some few\nhundred yards on one side or the other of the kennel party, would be\nseen flashing over the fields and hedges as if the hound was acting\nscout to the retiring force.\n\nAnother hound in the same kennels would only hunt with one of the\nMasters, who in turn acted as huntsman. With one of the huntsmen this\nhound would behave in normal fashion and do her work well in the field,\nbut for the other she would not only not work, but she would not go out\nwith the pack when it was in his hands.\n\nLife in the kennels is far from being devoid of evidence of the finer\nvirtues. The sight of a pack of hounds on their benches, each with\nhis head pillowed on one of his fellows, tells of mutual love and\ntrust, and the sympathy and pity with which one hound will lick a sore\nplace on another are not to be mistaken. On the other hand, there are\nhatreds and enmities, and there are hounds that can never be trusted\ntogether. Something of the old spirit of tribal rule is also shown in\nthe occasional ostracising of some one member of the pack. The hound\nthus treated as an outcast is not necessarily more stupid or less well\ninclined than are his judges, so far as can be seen, though I have\nheard that in one case, at least, the general award of condemnation was\njustified by unworthy conduct in the field. But, whatever the cause,\nfrom the verdict there is no appeal. A hound that has been sentenced\nby his fellows will have a short life and a bitter one if he does not\nfind another home, for hound justice is rough and demands the death of\nthe accused. In older times the method had its advantages in keeping\nup the level of the tribal band, for good feeling and good-will among\nits members were vital to its existence. Nowadays we give the outcast\nanother chance in different surroundings, where the verdict of his\nformer companions is by no means always endorsed. At the same time we\nmay believe that no such verdict is ever given without a cause, with\nwhich, could we understand it in all cases, we should be in complete\nagreement.\n\n\n\n\nIV\n\n\u201c_The capacity to understand is as good a proof of vocal intelligence,\nthough in an inferior degree, as the capacity to speak._\u201d\n\n\nFrom the kennel we will follow the hound into the field. Here he\nhas definite work for which all the events of his life are one long\npreparation. That he delights in it, no one can doubt who watches him.\nIf indeed there be anything to say against hunting, from the point of\nview of the fox and the hare, as there certainly is against some of\nthe methods of man used in the chase, to the hound it is pure, unmixed\nenjoyment. As a lover of animals I hate to think of any unnecessary\nsuffering caused in the hunting field. But when the excitement of\nthe uncertain issue is over, the death, if it comes, is merciful and\nsudden, and though I have never but once actually seen the end--and\nthen when I was surprised out of power of turning away--I was astounded\nat the instantaneous despatch of the hunted fox. That every man, and\nabove all every woman, should set their faces sternly against the\nfaintest touch of cruelty, I have no doubt at all. The most brilliant\nrun of the season would be dearly bought if fox and hound were not\npitted in fair and open warfare, and every one worthy the name of\nsportsman should blush to take an unfair advantage of the creature\nwhose wiles it will tax all the intelligence of his followers, human\nand canine, to unravel.\n\nOur very soul revolts from the tales of cruel maiming of which we have\nheard a good deal of late. That these are true of the practice of any\nbut a few scattered countries, I do not believe. But, on the other\nhand, that they undoubtedly occur in some hunts is beyond question.\nSport has to be shown; the followers at all costs must be given that\nfor which they have come out. If hounds do not taste blood, they will\nbecome slack, and lose their interest in the chase. The hunt servants\ncome from a class of which some members are incapable of understanding\nthe sufferings of a lower order of life than their own. If they\nrealised the agony of the broken or maimed limb with which the quarry\nis sometimes sent to make his last gallant bid for life, they would\nno more give the secret wrench that makes their own success assured\nthan would the man whose wider outlook enables him to grasp the depth\nof suffering inflicted. In saying this, I would not for a moment\nimply that all, or nearly all, our hunt servants have the callous\nindifference to pain that such a course implies. On the contrary, the\nlove of their hounds, so plainly shown both in the kennel and in the\nfield, and their own innate love of all animal life, are a sufficient\ntestimony to the humanity of the great body of those who show us sport.\nAs a rule our huntsmen are of a far higher level of intelligence than\nothers of their own class, or they would never have risen to the place\nthey hold. But the danger comes from those who have the mental gifts\nwithout the moral background. With these the brilliant execution of\ntheir own work is everything; the rights of the lower creatures to\nhumane treatment at their hands are non-existent. And this, as I have\nsaid, is because they do not, and cannot from their very nature, enter\ninto the feelings of another order of beings.\n\nBut as the huntsman and his underlings are the servants of the Master,\nthe responsibility for unsportsmanlike conduct in the field must\nultimately rest with him. Not many, when spoken to on such a matter,\nwill give the callous answer, worthy of a stage of civilisation left\nlong ages behind, that one M. F. H. did: \u201cI don\u2019t care what they do, so\nlong as they show sport, and don\u2019t tell me how they do it.\u201d But that\nsuch a view can be held, and that a man of such a type may have those\nunder his orders who will be prompt to take advantage of the implied\npermission, is a direct danger to hunting, and one against which all\ntrue lovers of the sport should be on their guard. A careless master,\nand still more an indifferent one, may bring discredit on the national\npastime that gives health and happiness to thousands of its followers,\nand causes the fox to be treated throughout his life as a favoured\npartner in the chase instead of as a noxious beast of prey.\n\nAbout one thing there is no doubt. Any man or woman who continues to\nhunt in a country where cruelty is practised makes himself or herself\nresponsible for what is done there. The reason of the cruelty is the\ndesire to show sport, and the only check that can be imposed is that of\npublic opinion. To this, Masters of Hounds and Hunt servants alike are\npeculiarly sensitive, the reputation of both, and the very livelihood\nof the latter, depending on it. If then such deeds of cruelty are\npassed over, or ignored as not being the business of those in whose\ninterests they are done, the future of fox hunting will suffer from a\ndeadly peril. If indeed the hunting field cannot be cleared from the\nreproach that must cling to it while cruelty in any form is practised,\nand the fight is not a fair and open one between hounds and their\nquarry, our many enemies will have a powerful weapon to use against us.\n\nI am indeed far from thinking that Ruskin\u2019s advice to gentlemen \u201cto\nmow their own fields instead of riding over other people\u2019s\u201d can be\nfollowed. The words could only have been penned by one who was at once\nignorant of the health-giving joys of the hunting-field, and of the\nnatural sequence of country occupations. But though I lay myself open\nto the charge of cruelty from those who only see in hunting a relic\nof a bygone barbarism, and on the other hand may rouse the anger of\nthose whose tastes I share, by pointing to the dark spots that tarnish\nthe glories of our national pastime, I must e\u2019en take a stand with the\nhounds in hoping for a continuance of their joy in sport, and with the\nfox in pleading that a fair and open fight is allowed him.\n\nWith the hounds, then, who at least are in no wise responsible for\ndeeds of darkness done in secret, let us return to the field. The\nresults of beneficent rule in the kennels is seen in their manner of\nhunting. If the huntsman and his whippers-in have won their confidence\nand love, the hounds have, beyond their own keenness in the chase, the\ndesire to please those to whom they look as their natural guides and\nrulers. The hunt servants, and above all the huntsman, take the place\nof the old tribal leader, whose will was imposed on his followers. We\nall know how hounds when they have failed to recover the line of their\nhunted fox, will look up to the huntsman with an inquiring expression\nof countenance, that says as plainly as any words could tell us, they\nare asking him to help them: \u201cWe have done our part. Now it is your\nturn to come to our assistance.\u201d\n\nAnd how much the hounds will do for themselves, and how clearly the\nindividual characteristics of each member of the pack is brought out in\ntheir common work! The hounds that are deferred to in the kennel will\ngenerally take the lead in the chase. Some naturally take the first\nplace, and others as naturally follow. If we glance for a moment at\nthe riders behind them, shall we not see exactly the same thing taking\nplace? The man and woman whose observation is keen, decision prompt,\nand whose will is fearless, will be seen in front, while those of\nlesser gifts of courage and insight will follow in their wake. There\nis, of course, yet another partner in the chase, whose character and\npowers have to be reckoned with, but, even so, a bad horse will be at\nhis best, or a good horse at his worst, according to the way in which\nhe is handled. Certain I am that no stupid man or hound will ever lead\nin a good hunt.\n\nBut let us watch the hounds at work. No sooner does one touch the\nscent than he waves his stern and signals to the others. As he lashes\nhis sides, those who are near enough to see the sign crowd round him;\nand each one, partly in emulation and partly in sympathy, works hard\nto find and identify the scent. Then an eager, exultant note comes\nfrom one of them, and now is the time when we shall learn much of the\ncharacter the speaker bears. The other hounds will raise their heads\nquickly, but if the note comes from one whom they do not trust, they\nwill resume their quest quietly and take no further notice of his call.\nBut if the hound is one who is looked up to and respected, his fellow\nworkers will fly to him from all parts of the covert, and a chorus of\neager voices will corroborate his opinion and show that their trust was\nnot misplaced.\n\nThey run on close together till once more they lose the scent, and\nthere is a check. Now again we learn much of the dispositions and\ncharacters of the workers. The pack spreads out like a fan, and each\nhound works by and for himself. But not all in the same way. The\nslack and careless hound will gallop round aimlessly and then wait\nto see what the others do. The steady, persevering hound will, with\na painstaking sense of duty, try every blade of grass. The hound of\nthoughtful mind will go to all the more likely places first; and the\nwise old hound, whose business has been fully mastered, will gallop\nunhesitatingly back to the place where he last had the scent. How\noften the rest are put right by such a leader! He gallops back to the\ngateway, through which he had been swept by the common impulse that\nwill carry the best hound over the line sometimes. But as soon as he\nhas time to think, he pauses. He knows he has not smelt fox since he\ncame through the gate, and he knows, too, that a fox will often turn\nshort under a wall or fence. So he goes back, turns up by the hedge,\nand hits off the line, and both hounds and huntsmen follow at his call.\n\nFew more wonderful instances of reasoning power are, I suppose, ever\nshown in the field than by the stag-hounds when they have brought\na wild stag to bay. Though I have never ridden with the Devon and\nSomerset, some of the most picturesque and thrilling moments of sport\nI have ever experienced have been with them. The stag, after bounding\ndown the precipitous sides of a rocky combe, will plunge into the\nquick-flowing stream that divides the wooded depths of the valley.\nThe hounds are close behind, but not within view. As they, too, reach\nthe water, they divide, some following the stream on one side, some\non the other, while others take to the bed of the water itself. The\nhuntsman, it may be, has not yet threaded his way between the boulders\nand thickly planted trees that have impeded his progress. But the\nhounds work up to their stag, which stands at bay where the current is\nrunning strongest. Now the older hounds come to the front, with the\nwisdom learned of former encounters. They trot up the bank, past the\nspot where the stag is standing. Then they take to the water, and are\ncarried almost without effort to him. If they had entered the stream\nsooner, they could not have reached him, for they were powerless to\nbreast the current; and as the young hounds watch their strategy, they\ntoo learn the lesson they will put in practice later. Here, then, we\nhave evidence of the natural lead of superior intelligence, and of\nthe willingness of the younger and less experienced to learn from the\nexample of their elders.\n\nBut the foundation of the powers of combination that show such an\ninfinite variety in the field is laid in kennel life. The better the\ndiscipline and the greater the influence of the huntsman over his\npack, the more readily will they work together. No better or quainter\nexample of this was ever given than that of John Press, whose fame\nas a successful huntsman spread far and wide from the Blackmore\nVale country. Here I will quote again from a book, with which my\nconnection gives me the means of vouching for the absolute truth of its\nstatements. It is Miss Serrell, one of the keenest of sportswomen and\nhound lovers, who tells the story.[3]\n\n\u201cA ... wonderful instance of perfect kennel discipline was that I once\nwitnessed with terriers and foxhounds in the Blackmore Vale kennels.\nOne day, not long before Press retired, I rode over to the kennels, and\nbeing told by the kennelman that Press was in the orchard with the\nhounds, I dismounted and went in search of him. The sight that met my\neyes as I opened the gate I shall never forget. There was Press in his\nkennel coat, with only a slim white willow in his hands, surrounded\nby both packs of hounds, and seated on a low stool with his favourite\nlittle hound, Miranda, on his knees, while he was encouraging some nine\nor ten terriers to scratch at the rat-holes round an old apple-tree.\nNot one of the hounds ventured to interfere as they stood round\nwatching the terriers\u2019 efforts, and it was enough for Press to lift\nhis little stick if one essayed to go too near them. Seating myself on\na handy stump, I watched the performance, while the old man related\nanecdotes of his favourites, and assured me he could never have done\nwhat he did with them except for their home training. It was a common\nsaying of his that you could teach more _in_ kennel than _out_, and\nwith this opinion I cordially agree.\n\n\u201cPerhaps the most curious part of that orchard scene was to come,\nfor Press after a time rose and passed slowly back to the kennels,\nwith the hounds following. Throwing open one of the doors, he turned,\nand, eyeing the hounds sternly, he raised his hand, and to my great\namusement exclaimed in his gruff voice, \u2018Ladies first!\u2019 At this signal\nevery \u2018lady,\u2019 with a little wave of her stern, trotted forward and\nwent in; and as soon as all had disappeared the door was shut, not\na dog-hound in the meantime offering to follow. As he threw open\nthe other door, Press called out, \u2018Now, then, gentlemen!\u2019 and the\ndog-hounds marched majestically in.\u201d\n\nIf slackness prevail in their home, hounds will be as ready to take\nadvantage of it as are our own children. Some hounds are more inclined\nto mischief than others, but if one breaks out there is danger that all\nthe others may follow. How often, again, is the counterpart seen in\nour playing-field or classroom. Idleness in all cases is the beginning\nof vice. Many of us know the story of the wild young hounds that once\nled a whole pack--and a good one--on the line of a donkey. It is said\nthat for long afterwards the huntsman and whippers-in of these hounds\nregarded the very word \u201cdonkey,\u201d uttered in their presence, as a\npersonal insult.\n\nThat discipline must be tempered with affection, the conduct of hounds\nin the field shows clearly. For a man who is harsh to them, who is too\nready with lash and hard words, hounds will have much the same relation\nthat a schoolboy has to the tutor he detests, or the soldier to the\nofficer he does not respect. The main-spring of good work is love, not\nharshness.\n\nIf every one from hunt servants to the master would take their\nduties in the way that one M. F. H. did, there would be no danger of\nunnecessary harshness, still less cruelty, being used towards any of\nour partners of the chase. The Master of whom I am speaking never\noverlooked a fault of this kind with any of his servants. If a man was\ntoo ready with the whip, or in any way too severe in the correction\nof kennel faults, he was sent away at once, _without a character_. As\nhe was not fitted to have the care of animals, the Master would not\nhelp him to another situation. It is only by following such a line of\nconduct that unsuitable hunt servants can be kept from jeopardising the\nfair fame of those to whose good offices every hunting man and woman in\nthe country owe so many of the pleasantest hours of their life.\n\n\n\n\nV\n\n  \u201c_But why dost thou compare thee to a dog,\n  In that for which all men despise a dog?\n  I will compare thee better to a dog:\n  Thou art as fair and comely as a dog,\n  Thou art as true and honest as a dog,\n  Thou art as kind and liberal as a dog,\n  Thou art as wise and valiant as a dog._\u201d\n\n\nWhile the foxhound and harrier and their brothers of the chase work\nin company, and--within the limits allowed by the guiding spirit\nof the huntsman--under the leadership of one or more of their own\nkind, in another branch of sport we find the perfection of a dog\u2019s\nindividual action in the field. If we watch the early training of the\nyoung pointer or setter we can trace the development of the dog\u2019s\npowers of mind under the hand of his instructor. If the latter has\nthe intelligence and the patience necessary for his task, and the\nambition to make the most of the opening powers that give to his touch\nthe unerring response of a musical instrument of varied strength\nand different tones, we shall see this under the most favourable\ncircumstances.\n\nIn the first place, the natural characteristics of the young pupil,\nas they have been shown in puppy games and family intercourse, will\nbe made due allowance for. The puppy of strong, decided character\nwill have different treatment meted out to it from that given to one\nof timid mind, and, it may be, less robust physique, or results will\nshow us clearly what is wanting. A harsh word or unrestrained action\non the part of the instructor will in a moment turn a bright-eyed and\neager dog into a cowed, and, it may be, sullen creature, who has for\nthe time being, at least, lost all interest in the proceedings that\npromised so well. He must have perfect confidence in the justice of\nthe man in whose hands he is. This confidence is the foundation on\nwhich the affection of later years will be built. Without the one it\nis impossible to have the other. If owners and, above all, keepers\nonly knew it, the way in which their dogs respond to their treatment\nis the surest index of their own characters. If they are slovenly in\ntheir work, the want of thoroughness will surely be reflected in their\ndogs, and this in spite of any attempts to cover their own defects by\nunconsidered sternness to their charges. The man who only cares for\nhis dogs as a necessary part of the accessories of a day\u2019s shooting\nwill never get more than eye service from them. As he knows nothing\nof the dog\u2019s character, and treats him as if he had no special traits\nthat mark him off as an individual, such a master cannot hope for any\nresponse but such as fear of punishment can give him. The dog, if he\nsurvives the training given under such circumstances--if, that is to\nsay, he does not fall under the condemnation of being worthless in the\nfield--will only work when directly under his master\u2019s eye, and while\nhe knows that chastisement prompt and severe will fall on any failure.\nIn his work, as work, he will take little or no interest; and it is\nsafe to say that such a dog will never show of what he might have been\ncapable under more discriminating treatment.\n\nThe youngest dog that comes under training has the same instinctive\nknowledge of human character that a child has. Not all, perhaps, would\nshow the nice appreciation of temperament displayed by an older dog\nthat belonged to the father of one of my friends. Shot was a black and\nwhite pointer with a long head and ears, and a conformation of head\nnearer that of a foxhound than of an ordinary dog of his kind. He was a\nfirstrate dog on birds, and conducted himself with the greatest decorum\nin the field. But one day his high spirits carried him out of his usual\nself-restraint. He was racing along at such a pace that he dashed into\na covey of birds and flushed them. It did not need his master\u2019s angry\nvoice to bring home to him a sense of his misdeeds.\n\n[Illustration: \u201cCONSCIENCE MAKES COWARDS OF US\u201d\n\nSHOT]\n\nAs the birds rose, Shot stopped short, his tail went between his legs,\nand with only a momentary pause he set off wildly to save himself from\nchastisement. Making straight for a neighbouring bog he waded through\nit, up to his neck in mud, till he reached a dry spot. Then he sat\nup and regarded his master serenely, secure in the knowledge that he\ncould not be followed. His owner, a man of quick temper, though much\ntoo fond of his dogs to give any of them more than a well merited\nreminder not to offend again, was not unnaturally angry at the turn\naffairs had taken. \u201cOh, you lop-eared cur, if I could only get at you!\u201d\nwere the words that travelled to Shot\u2019s ears, as he sat entrenched\nin his fastness. He stayed quietly where he was, therefore, till\nthe passing storm had blown over. As soon as his master turned his\nattention again to the birds, Shot knew he might return safely. He lost\nno time in leaving his island, and wading back through the mud he took\nup his duties as if nothing had happened. So well did he work that at\nthe end of the day he received nothing but praise for the excellence\nof his conduct. The fault had faded from his master\u2019s mind, and when\nit was recalled only excited admiration of the dog\u2019s intelligence that\nhad saved him from untoward chastisement. A beating, and still more\na savage beating, at the end of a good day\u2019s work, would have given\nShot a new view of his master\u2019s character that would have gone far to\ndestroy the good fellowship existing between them.\n\nBut in a puppy, as in a young child, no fault should be overlooked. The\ngreat mistake so many commit in training, is in making the necessary\ncorrection of minor failings too severe. They are not always careful,\neither, to make the punishment follow immediately on the fault, but\nchastise, with a strength measured by their own impatience, the young\ncreature from whose unformed mind all sense of delinquency has passed\naway. How can a puppy be expected to understand the reason of a harsh\nrating, or hard blow, for a lack of due response to such an outlandish\nsound, to untutored ears, as \u201cToho,\u201d when all remembrance has passed in\nthe excitement of watching some later action of his master that calls\nforth his keenest interest as he tries to fathom its meaning? Still\nless chance has he in these first essays of the business of life if\nother dogs are sharing his instructor\u2019s attention with him. He is then\nbeing treated as a chattel, and yet expected to give the individual\nresponse that only an intelligent being can give. If he does not do\nlike the others at the word of command, and the master\u2019s first thought\nis given to continuing the exercise for those who respond rightly, what\nchance is there that the young dog will understand the meaning of his\ncorrection, after he has followed with fascinated gaze and possibly\nintelligent co-operation the later parts of the lesson? If the man\nwould only _think_, he would recognise that he was asking from his\npupil an effort of mind that is quite beyond his range. It is from the\nheart sickness caused by the knowledge of terrible acts of vengeance\nwreaked on defenceless pupils, by thoughtless and cruel masters, that I\nventure to speak thus plainly. The suffering that is sometimes crowded\ninto the first twelve months of a puppy\u2019s life is terrible to think of.\nAnd how many good dogs are thus ruined for life, and are condemned as\nworthless before they have even had a chance of showing their powers!\nIf the owners of shooting dogs would only remember that the dogs which,\nunder judicious treatment, will give the best result as workers are\nthose which, from the possession of the very gifts that give them their\nvalue, will understand and resent most keenly any acts of oppression\nand injustice that cloud their young days, they would save their\npockets by getting the services of many a good worker, whose life has\nbeen ended by a bullet through his brains.\n\nBut if the puppy\u2019s training has been carefully and successfully carried\nout in the privacy that is such an important factor of success, the\nconsiderate and individual care meted out to him does not by any means\nend here. The dog has learned to obey the various words of command, and\nso far has responded to his training. But his experience up to this\npoint has been free from conflicting interests. He has concentrated\nall his attention on the lessons with nothing to distract his mind.\nBut when he takes his place in the field the case is very different.\nYet how often do we hear a young dog rated, or see him beaten, for\na fault that should have been corrected gently. He has, if he has\nbeen wisely treated, finished his education under the very conditions\nthat obtain in the field when the shooting season begins. He has\nmastered every detail of his work, but how few owners make allowance\nfor the excitement that takes possession of a dog when he first has\npart in a serious day\u2019s shooting! If he is thrown with other dogs,\nhis difficulties are increased tenfold, but supposing that he only\naccompanies his master for a quiet day among the turnips, and with no\ncompanion save a retriever, he knows as well as his owner does that\nthe circumstances of his work are now quite different from all that\nhas gone before. His master is intent on making a good bag, and if\nthe pointer or setter was not capable of understanding the difference\nbetween serious business and the previous training foreshadowing it,\nhe would be incapable of giving the intelligent co-operation that is\nexpected of him. He is excited, therefore, and eager, it may well be\ntoo eager, to please, and if in the ardour of his own feelings the\nsportsman has no thought and consideration for his dog, the latter\u2019s\nearly training may very likely be spoilt after all.\n\nIt is, alas! well known that keepers and their masters will often give\nan erring dog a punishment with their gun, one of the most brutal forms\nof chastisement possible. Restraining their savage anger till the dog\nis at some thirty yards from them, they pepper the poor creature with\nshot in the hind quarters as he is hurrying forward. From the point of\nview of common sense, as well as of humane feeling, this is the most\nfutile form in which the anger of the master can show itself. First\nand foremost, there is the suffering entailed on the dog, for to my\nown knowledge some animals have lost their lives from the injuries\ninflicted on them.\n\nAnd yet what good and faithful work many dogs will give to careless and\neven cruel owners! A very handsome, upstanding black and white setter,\nwho belonged to a farmer of morose temper, was one of these. The dog\nwas not properly fed, and in spite of his thick coat he excited the\ncommiseration of some people, a part of whose property adjoined the\nland rented by the farmer. The members of this family were lovers of\nsport in all its forms, and they often saw the setter at work, and knew\nthat he was particularly staunch on game. One day Prince was following\nhis master about the farm on agricultural interests bent, when, as\nthey passed some heathland, the dog lighted on a covey of partridges.\nHe instantly became rigid, but knowing well that sport was not at the\nmoment the point of interest in his master\u2019s mind, he looked round to\nsee if he was being observed. The master\u2019s hand was raised, and Prince\nobediently dropped. Then the farmer hurried home to fetch his gun. At\nthe end of between twenty and thirty minutes he was back, and found\nPrince still at his post. At a word, the dog was up, and his master\nsecured a brace of birds. Another time when Prince had been lent to the\nson of the neighbouring landowner, the dog retained his position for\nfull fifteen minutes before the gun came up. It is sad to think that\nsuch a dog should have had more than his share of blows and curses, and\nbut little of the affection that would have made his life happy.\n\nBut if the same gentle restraint is about the young dog in the field\nthat has hitherto attended his training, the response he will give to\nhis owner\u2019s wishes will be little short of marvellous. For the most\nstriking point about the dog\u2019s work in the field is that he carries it\nout without any physical gain to himself, beyond his enjoyment of the\nexercise it gives him and the delight the scent of the game affords.\nThe only reward he looks for is one that appeals to his imagination\nand affection only. While he ranges the field for the hidden game he\nmust have a clear conception in his mind of the results that will\nfollow his successful point. It will bring to his master the pleasure\nfor which he has come out. But here his own share in the work ceases,\nand it is another dog that will dash in and carry the trophy to his\nowner. It is well known that many dogs show such a clear appreciation\nof the respective duties of the various partners in the sport that\nthey will refuse to do their share if the gun does not account for a\nsatisfactory number of birds. Could anything say more plainly that if\ntheir own part of the work is well done they expect equal skill to be\nshown by their fellow workers?\n\nA setter who showed such nice discrimination belonged to a man who\nwas a firstrate shot. This man had the generosity to lend his dog not\ninfrequently to friends, and it was when the dog was working for an\nindifferent shot that he showed his disapproval of work to which he was\nnot accustomed. If his temporary master missed two birds running, the\nsetter always turned away and made straight for home. In no case was he\never known to condone such a failure. One miss he would overlook, but\ntwo in succession he could not and did not tolerate.\n\nNo more cutting reproach can be given to any indifferent sportsman than\nthe silent turning away of a well trained and intelligent dog from\nthe sport in which his master is not taking his due share. And what\nin many cases is the immediate result of an action on the part of the\ndog that shows such an amazing appreciation of things as they are? The\ninsult is felt, only to give point to the man\u2019s natural exasperation\nat his own failure. The dog is not made to feel that his exercise of\nintelligence is understood, but that to please his master he must go on\nwith his work. He is instead rated, or even beaten, for the desire he\nhas shown to give it up, and what wonder if, feeling the injustice of\nthe punishment that has followed his own good service, the dog turns\nsulky and refuses to try again. If the man were not so absorbed in his\nown determination to have sport, good, bad, or indifferent, as to have\nno thought to give to the dog\u2019s point of view, he would pursue a juster\ncourse and one more likely to give him the result he desires.\n\nThe field work of the pointer is differentiated from that of his near\nrelation, the foxhound, in every essential detail. True, he has the\nsame excitement that is the hound\u2019s great joy in the field of hunting\nup to his game. But even here he has to be taught to seek for his\nbirds with head well in air, instead of keeping his sensitive nose on\nthe ground. For this part of his duty, he has to work out the problem\nbefore him entirely without help from his fellows. Then as soon as he\nsignals to his master by the customary point that game is at hand,\nnothing but a passing glimpse of the birds as they rise comes to reward\nhis work. Instead of the run for a kill that brings the successful\nchase of the hound to a close, the pointer or setter has to remain\ncontent with the knowledge that the physical enjoyment of touching the\ngame has fallen to the retriever, and that the trophy itself has been\ntaken possession of by his master.\n\nWe have all heard of the long discussion that from the days of Colonel\nThornton\u2019s celebrated pointer Dash has been carried on respecting the\ninfusion of foxhound blood into the pointer kennel. With this matter I\nhave no concern, but I am reminded of a very curious instance of hound\nwork that more nearly resembled the pointer style than that of the\nfoxhound. Yet Druid, the hound in question, was one of pure foxhound\nblood on both sides. He was a son of Rufford Denmark, and many of his\nbrothers and sisters are to be found in the Hound lists of the late\nMr. Merthyr Guest, which lists I have had the privilege of studying.\nThe dam of Druid was Woodbine, a daughter of Mr. Garth\u2019s Wildfire, and\nshe strained back to the wonderful hound Ruby (1864), the mother of\nthe Blackmore Vale pack, that was dispersed on Mr. Guest\u2019s resignation\nof the Mastership, in the year 1900. One who hunted with the Blackmore\nVale for many years, and was one of the hardest riders of a hard riding\nfield, says of Druid,[4] he \u201chad a curious way of catching a scent.\nHe would stand on his hind legs with his nose high in the air, and\nsometimes even jump from the ground in his eagerness to catch it.\u201d The\nhound was, this writer adds, \u201ca most reliable hound\u201d in his work.\n\nAnother incident in the pointer or setter\u2019s duty when he is working\nwith other dogs demands as much intelligent comprehension as his point,\nand an equal amount of self-control. This is the \u201cback\u201d he is expected\nto give, immediately one of his companions is at the point. He knows\nthat his fellow is in the enjoyment of the \u201cgrateful steam\u201d that is\none of the few lawful pleasures he can hope for from the day\u2019s sport.\nYet he may not move a step towards the spot where the pleasure lies.\nHe must too give up his own anticipations of a similar joy, and wait\nwhile others are having the fun. Now, if we think of this for a moment\nfrom the dog\u2019s point of view, we shall see what a high exercise of\nself-control he must bring to bear on this part of his duty.\n\nThis has always seemed to me one of the most surprising results of the\neffects of training on the higher mental powers of the dog that has\never been achieved. Of course we know that pointers and setters may be\ntaught to retrieve, and a setter may do the work of both pointer and\nretriever, but here I am only speaking of the special tasks allotted to\nthe former. And with such intelligent co-operation as he is expected to\ngive, has not the dog a right to the considerate and gentle treatment\nthat will alone encourage him to give of his best? I would plead with\nevery sportsman that takes a gun in hand not to cast a slur on his own\nmanhood by unworthy conduct to a faithful worker, to the exercise of\nwhose skill his pleasure owes so much.\n\nFrom the point of view of the thinker, a nice psychological problem\npresents itself, as to the powers of the dog\u2019s mind that are brought\ninto play during a day\u2019s shooting. There is, first of all, an\nintelligent response to the training that has been given him, when he\nis left to carry out his work by himself. For though a faint whistle\nmay from time to time come to carry some direction from his master,\nthe exigencies of the shooting field demand that he should be left\nin the main to his own resources. But far above this in intellectual\neffort is the imagination that must be brought into play to give him\nthe conception, he undoubtedly has, of the different parts that go to\nmake up the whole of the day\u2019s sport. If he did not realise the parts\nof the work he does not see, as well as those that are the result of\nhis own exertions, it would be impossible for him to show resentment\nat the sport not being brought to a successful termination. The report\nrings out when the birds rise, whether the shot is to bring success or\nfailure. In any further steps, the dog has no share, but the mental\npicture that is imaged on his brain must not be marred, or he will take\nthe very means to mark his sense of the disturbance that a human might\ndo if he were put into the position of the dog.\n\nA very extraordinary instance of intelligent co-operation with the work\nof the guns is told me by one who has had a life-long experience in the\nbreeding and training of shooting dogs. In the course of a day\u2019s grouse\nshooting in Caithness, two black pointers were out and working in their\nusual good style. But one bird could not be found. The keeper was at\nlast joined by the guns in his search, but no efforts could discover\nthe bird the dogs told them was there. When the search was given up in\ndespair, the keeper noticed that only one of his dogs went to his work.\nThe other went back and sitting down regarded her master anxiously. The\nman saw her take her point and go up to dead. Then she disappeared from\nview, but instantly reappearing, she drew herself up to her full height\nwith the dead bird in her mouth. Holding it for a moment for her master\nto see, she then dropped it and sat down beside it. Hurrying up, the\nkeeper found that the bird had crept into a narrow hole in the ground,\nwhere the efforts of all the party had been unable to find it.\n\nLeaving thus the more serious aspects of the shooting dog\u2019s life, let\nus turn to an amusing episode in which a retriever seemed to show a\nsense of humour. Cruiser, a curly coated dog, was one of those good\ntempered, easy natured creatures that are always ready to give a\nhelping \u201cpaw\u201d in anything that is on hand. The mistress of this dog\ncould, on the occasion in question, well have dispensed with his\nassistance. Among the many animals she gathered round her in her\ncountry home was a troop of young ducklings. The aim of these little\nthings\u2019 lives was to get into a certain pond, from which, as it had\ndeep walled sides, it was very difficult to get them out. Late one\nSunday evening this lady discovered that the gate leading into the\nfield where the pond was situated had been left open, and all the\nducklings had made haste to take advantage of their opportunity.\nUsually when such a catastrophe occurred, half the household were\nsummoned to take part in the work of rescue. But on Sunday evening no\none was available, and with Cruiser at her side his mistress took up\nthe business single-handed. With the help of the retriever and a long\npole she collected the brood in a corner of the pond near the hatches,\nand then put the pole across behind them, to keep them from getting\nback into deep water. She then lay down on the bank, and by stretching\nher arm down could just reach the truants. Taking one of the fluffy\nheads gently in her hand, she swung the duckling up to the bank beside\nher. This she repeated again and again, till every limb ached. The\nducklings seemed to be multiplied by tens, and at last in despair of\never getting them all out, she sat up to rest and count the number she\nhad rescued. A glance showed her the reason of her unending work. As\neach duckling came up, Cruiser caught it skilfully and gently in his\nmouth, and carrying it to the side of the pond dropped it delicately\nin. When his mistress stopped working, his own amusement came to an\nend, and he too sat down to wait for better times, which in this case\nat least did not come to him.\n\n\n\n\nVI\n\n  _He has not lived in vain, whose magic art\n  Portrays God\u2019s creatures in the nobler part.\n  He has not lived in vain, whose teaching tends\n  To human sympathy with our dumb friends._\n\n\nA fact that is brought home to us very early in the house dog\u2019s life,\nin which we see the dawning of a personal sense of responsibility in\nhis mind, is the self-control he learns to exercise. As he responds\nto the training that is brought to bear on his undeveloped powers, he\ngives the first faint evidence of a moral sense, the violation of which\ncauses him to feel shame, as well as fear of the consequences of his\nact.\n\nA wild and wayward little being, he responds with ever increasing\nfacility to the lessons that are to fit him for his position in life.\nHe wrangles with his fellow puppies, and fights with them for a share\nof the food for which his appetite craves, and in his contests and\nhis play shows to the attentive observer the dawning of the natural\ncharacteristics that go to make him a being distinct from all others\nof his kind. Little by little his innate love of mischief and the\ncuriosity that prompts so many puppy crimes, are curbed and checked by\nthe restraints imposed on him by the nature of his surroundings. He\nlearns that disaster in the form of correction awaits him if he gives\nplay to his natural cravings, and the dawn of his reasoning faculties\nis shown in his efforts--by no means always successful--to govern the\nimpulses that his puppy mind learns to realise are not to be indulged\nin with impunity.\n\nA friend who was living with me in India had two well-bred fox-terrier\npuppies given to her when they were only a few weeks old. She undertook\ntheir training, and had a somewhat lively experience with them. Her\nAyah was devoted to the playful little fat balls, but had no more idea\nof discipline for them than she had for her own children. By some\nneedful lessons their owner had taught them that boots and sponges and\nother toilet accessories were not to be destroyed with impunity. When\nthe puppies were with her, therefore, they soon left the forbidden\nthings severely alone. During her absence they were not allowed in her\nbedroom, and if left alone were shut into the safe shelter of an Indian\nbathroom. But the Ayah was ready to give them anything they wanted, and\none day, when they were between two and three months old, she admitted\nthem to their mistress\u2019s room, while she went off to her house to\ndinner.\n\nNot long after their owner returned and found signs of havoc in the\nshape of a torn up sponge and a sadly mutilated shoe. Not a puppy,\nhowever, was to be seen, and the bathroom being empty, the Ayah\nwas summoned to account for their disappearance. Then a search was\ninstituted, and from different places of concealment two frightened and\nmanifestly shame-stricken little animals were drawn. They were shown\nthe results of their handiwork, and a lesson for future guidance was\ngiven them in the form of admonitory finger taps, though their mistress\nhad hard work to preserve even a semblance of gravity, as she looked\nat their ridiculous little cowering forms. But the puppies had had a\nlesson, the severest of their young lives, that they did not forget.\nThey learned to respect their owner\u2019s belongings even in the freedom\nof solitude, and the shame they showed when brought face to face with\nthe evidence of their misdeeds bore good fruit in the form of exemplary\nself-restraint even in the pursuit of mischief. For these puppies had\nnever been beaten, and the dread of a stern word, or the touch of an\nadmonishing finger, was not sufficient to account for their action\nin hiding themselves from their mistress. They must have had a sense\nof wrong-doing, mingled with the fear of reproof that showed their\ntraining had indeed been satisfactorily begun.\n\nIndependently of the love that young dogs show in puppyhood to their\nowners, their friendship for others of their own kind comes early in\ntheir stage of development. A friendship begun in puppyhood will often\nlast through life. An instance of this was seen in two fox terriers,\nlitter brothers, by name Rattler and Royal. These dogs were not sent\nout to walk, but spent their young days together in their home kennels.\nTheir affection for each other was soon remarked, for contrary to the\ngeneral conditions obtaining among young terriers, they were never\nknown to fight together. When they arrived at years of discretion they\ntook their place with the older dogs, in the sporting pack to which\nthey belonged. Here the friendship of their younger days became even\nmore marked. Neither Rattler nor Royal could be induced to go out,\neven for the delights of hunting, without the other. When they were at\nwork in the field they were always together, and in company they would\nreturn. No day was ever too long for the brothers, and they were always\nto the fore in any work there was on hand. Often when hunting was over,\nRattler would manage to slip away from the pack, and taking refuge in\nsome handy covert, start working on his own account. Royal would soon\nnotice his absence, and if not looked after would run back to find the\ntruant. Then the two would have a royal time, and hunt the woods at\ntheir own sweet will till exhausted nature could do no more. It was\nbelieved that a hearty meal of rabbit not infrequently ended the day\u2019s\npleasures for them, and then under the shelter of a bramble bush they\nwould curl up together and sleep the sleep of the worn-out hunter.\n\n[Illustration: THE INVALID AND HIS NEW FRIEND\n\nROY AND JACK]\n\nAn instance of strong friendship between an older and a younger dog is\nseen with two pets, one a very handsome King Charles and the other a\nfascinating, most alert little Yorkshire terrier, who are members of\na household where the dogs take no unimportant place. Roy, the King\nCharles, was an old and valued friend before the puppy Jack came to\nkeep him company. At the time of the latter\u2019s arrival Roy was suffering\nfrom a long and painful illness, and as an invalid he claimed and\nreceived more than his usual share of attention from his friends.\nThe care with which Jack was prevented from disturbing the sufferer\nroused the puppy\u2019s keenest interest in him, and it was observed that\nRoy himself showed no disposition to be offended at the new-comer\u2019s\npresence. Little by little Jack was left free to go to Roy\u2019s basket\nwhen he pleased, and no sooner was a cry of pain heard from the older\ndog than the puppy would rush to him and kiss him, and then look\nround for help for his suffering friend from those present. In return\nfor these attentions Roy allowed Jack to play with his favourite toy\nwithout demur, though his friends were ready to protect his plaything\nfrom the other, while Roy was too suffering to take part in the games.\nThe invalid would, however, show his disapproval of the too zealous\nattentions of his guardians by a low growl whenever Jack was deprived\nof the coveted toy, and from his basket would watch the games of the\nactive puppy with a gentle interest.\n\nSoon further signs of a good understanding between the dogs were shown.\nRoy, who is the autocrat of the household, spends the night with the\ncook, an old and valued servant, who has a quite passionate affection\nfor the imperious little beauty. In the morning, the next step of Roy\u2019s\ndaily pleasures is a visit to his mistress, who being an invalid has\nher breakfast in bed. The little spaniel lies on her bed until she\ngets up, and when he is there, not even his friend Jane is allowed to\ninterfere with him. But one day when Jack arrived in his mistress\u2019s\narms to pay a visit to the invalid, Roy was all anxiety for him to\nshare his position with him. As this was the highest mark of favour he\ncould show, it was felt that from henceforth the care in keeping Roy\nfrom the pressing attentions of the puppy might be relaxed.\n\nWith the exception of my own Skye, Roy has the most varied vocabulary\nin the way of language that I have ever heard from any dog. He makes\nhis wants and wishes known to his friends with the greatest ease.\nBeing a very determined as well as intelligent little person, it is\nbut seldom that he does not get his own way. He has a large circle of\nfriends and admirers outside his own family, and I think his devoted\nattendant, Jane, could scarcely be induced to accept an invitation out\nto tea, if Roy were not included in the party.\n\nIn the many severe illnesses that Roy has suffered, his life has\nundoubtedly been saved by the gentle patience with which he has\nsubmitted to remedies. He never resents anything that is done for his\nfuture comfort, and will submit quietly to handling that causes him\ngreat present pain with an evident appreciation of the reasons that\ndictate his friends\u2019 efforts on his behalf. As Roy in his younger\ndays had no home playfellow, he developed an amusing attachment to\nself-elected pets. The first object of his young affections as a\nplaything was a muff, that was shaken, tossed, and rolled about, till\nits comely proportions were reduced to bare skin. This with unwavering\naffection was always taken to bed to be slept on, till in an evil hour\nfor him, the cook took the somewhat doubtful looking object in hand.\nShe washed and mended it, with the laudable intention of making it a\nsweeter bedfellow; but for Roy its charm had gone, and he discarded it\nwith a finality from which there was no appeal.\n\nNow Roy, being as I have said, a privileged person, always has his\nchair put for him at the dining-room table, where he sits beside his\nmistress at mealtime, showing a decorous attention to the business in\nhand. His plate is before him, and at a certain point, his own portion\nof the food is put ready for him. Being an imaginative dog, Roy has\nmany little \u201cmake-believes\u201d with his playthings, and occasionally the\nball that has succeeded the muff in his affections is carried into\nthe dining room and put on the edge of his plate. The first time this\nhappened, it was supposed to have been a mistake on Roy\u2019s part, and the\nball was removed from its position. But its owner had not brought it\nthere without some unknown purpose in his little mind, and he prepared\nforthwith to rectify his friend\u2019s blunder. Leaving his chair and the\nfood that had just been put before him, he bustled off to recover the\nlost treasure, and having put it back in its former position he ate his\ndinner quietly. It is only now and then that the ball is thus honoured,\nbut on these rare occasions its presence is necessary to Roy\u2019s comfort,\nand his sense of the fitness of things must not be outraged by its\nremoval.\n\nRoy\u2019s little housemate Jack, though still in his early youth, has\nalready some well marked characteristics. He has a talent for\ncollecting his family and keeping them together in a walk that is\nworthy of the powers of a sheep dog. His great accomplishment is\nbegging, which he exercises on his own initiative and in a most\neffective manner. With him this habit takes the place of language. If\nhe wants anything he sits up immediately on his hind legs, and with a\nwealth of expression in his eyes waits for his friends to attend to\nhim. As the desired answer is sure to come, Jack\u2019s faith in his method\nis unbounded. A little upright waiting form is not infrequently found\nin position before a closed door. Though the desired answer may be long\nin coming, Jack has every confidence that perseverance will win the day.\n\nBetween Whankey and Floss, the former a black and tan rough terrier\nand the latter a fox-terrier, who are both mentioned elsewhere,\nthere existed the closest possible friendship. Though Whankey was an\nestablished favourite in her home before Floss arrived, a firm alliance\nsoon sprang up between them. But the good feeling that marked their\nown relations was not extended to other dogs. No other of the many\nterriers owned by their mistress would they allow in the house. Even\nJubilee, an older dog, who was passing her last years in the shelter of\nher owner\u2019s home, was never permitted to pass the swing door that led\nfrom the kitchen regions into the front hall. If she ever appeared in\nthe doorway, Whankey and Floss would be sure to spot her, and advance\nin warlike attitude, bristles up and uttering warning growls. Jubilee\nwould respond in form, but would in the end give way to the superiority\nof numbers and withdraw to her own domains.\n\nThe two house favourites were always with their mistress, and both\nslept in her room at night. But each had her own allotted place on bed\nor chair, and they showed a nice sense of the social amenities, as a\nfoundation of lasting friendship, by never taking a position belonging\nto the other. When Whankey died, Floss was inconsolable, and spent\nher time in looking for her lost friend. After a while she would pass\nhours together on a certain chair that used to be considered Whankey\u2019s\nproperty. Here Floss would sit upright with an expression of misery on\nher little face that often induced her mistress to try and comfort her.\nBut such efforts Floss resented, and she would snap and show marks of\nanger that she never displayed to her owner under other circumstances.\nThough Floss lived for some years, she still kept up the old embargo\non the presence of other dogs in the house. Several times her mistress\nbrought up some young puppies from the kennels, thinking that Floss\nwould relent in favour of their youth and innocence. But Floss was\nunbending, and she was so unhappy at their presence that the young\nthings were always sent away. To the end of her life Floss remembered\nWhankey. If the latter\u2019s name was mentioned, she was immediately all\nattention, and if any one called \u201cWhankey!\u201d in a low voice, Floss would\nspring up and rush to the door, wagging her tail, and barking to be let\nout to look for her friend.\n\nThe highest form of disinterested affection we find in dogs, as in\nhumans, in the love of a mother for her offspring. A friend, who was\nin South Africa with her husband during the late war, was at Ladysmith\nsome months after the raising of the siege. She went out to Bulwana,\nand near the spot from which \u201cLong Tom\u201d had wrought such havoc among\nour people, she found a poor half-starved dog and her two puppies. The\nmother and one of the little things fled at the approach of strangers,\nbut the other puppy, who was too weak to walk, clung to the kindly\nvisitor who was probably the first human being she had ever seen. To\nleave the little thing in that desolate spot meant death for her, so\nthe lady succeeded in getting down the steep side of the plateau with\nthe puppy in her arms, and carried her all the way back to Ladysmith.\nHere she had no difficulty in finding a good home for the little\nstranger, as many people were anxious to have the care of a dog whose\nbirth dated from the time of the siege. Efforts were made to find the\nstarving mother and her other puppy, but these were unavailing. A short\ntime after, however, another visitor to the scene of \u201cLong Tom\u2019s\u201d\nexploits, found the younger dog, but the mother, who had managed to\nsave her offspring, had lost her own life in the struggle.\n\nAnother instance of maternal love was given by a black pointer, one of\nthose now known as the Black Prince breed. The dog was a very fine one\nand was much prized by her owners. In a litter of otherwise healthy\npuppies this dog had one weakling. The latter she would not allow to\nbe with its stronger brethren. She was seen to carry the little one\nwho was unable to hold her own in the rough and tumble of puppy life\ninto a separate compartment. There she cared for it patiently and\naffectionately, and if it was put back with the others she instantly\nremoved it from the dangers of companionship. This, I think, is the\nmost touching example of motherly love in an animal that I have ever\nheard of. The poor dog\u2019s care, however, was unavailing, and when the\nlittle sufferer died, she carried the dead body to a neighbouring\nhedgerow, and there dug a hole and buried it. The last scene of the\ntragedy was observed by a boy, who had taken the keenest interest in\nthe efforts made to save the puppy\u2019s life, and who is now the owner of\nthe celebrated kennels of which the mother was an inmate.\n\n\n\n\nVII\n\n  \u201c_Not hopeless round the calm, sepulchral spot,\n    A wreath presaging life we twine:\n  If God be love, what sleeps below was not\n    Without a touch divine._\u201d\n\n\nOf the memory of past events and of recollection of places revisited\nafter the lapse of years, we have many wonderful instances in dog life.\nStella, a handsome well-bred fox-terrier, of strange experiences in the\nwilds of Africa, was a striking example of a memory that survived some\nthrilling adventures far from the bounds of civilisation. This little\ndog left her English home when she was only a few months old, and with\nher new master set sail for Africa. Stella was a smooth terrier with\na bright tan head, and throughout life was a fat, comfortable looking\nlittle creature.\n\nStella\u2019s evidence of memory of the place where she had spent the early\nmonths of her life was shown when she returned from the first of her\nadventurous journeys. She came home with her master after an absence\nof rather over a year, and accompanied him on a visit to her former\nmistress. It was a dark winter\u2019s night when the travellers arrived at\nthe station, from which a drive of three miles would take them to the\nhouse whither they were bound. The little dog\u2019s only preoccupation was\nto keep with her master, and the first part of the last stage of their\njourney by road passed quietly. But as the carriage came within a short\ndistance of the house, Stella grew restless, and showed such anxiety\nto get out that at last she was put down to run the rest of the way\non foot. But neither the darkness, that to humans would have made the\nchoice of a way a matter of difficulty, nor the time that had elapsed\nsince Stella as a puppy had been in the country before, prevented her\nfrom recognising her old landmarks and the former conditions of her\nlife. At the entrance to the drive she left the carriage, and, taking\na short cut across the park, arrived at the front door and finding her\nway in, turned into the drawing room, and paying no attention for the\nmoment to those who were waiting for the expected travellers, made\nstraight for the water dish from which she had often quenched her\nthirst in early youth. Her mistress saw her dash in at the open door,\nand go as straight for the corner where the dogs\u2019 dish always stood,\nas if it was only yesterday that she had found it there. Stella\u2019s\nunexpected appearance was the signal to the waiting friends that her\nmaster was near at hand. In a few minutes the latter drove up, to find\nthat his little favourite had shown her recollection of the scenes and\nsurroundings of her youth, and was there in her old home to add her\nwelcome to those of his other friends.\n\nThe so-called \u201cHoming-instinct\u201d of dogs I touch on with diffidence.\nOf the many truly wonderful instances of this power that we hear of\nfrom time to time, few are narrated in a manner to compel conviction\nof the facts being quite as they appear to the easy acceptance of the\nnarrator. With these, however, I have nothing to do, though in a few\ncases I have come across examples of remarkable journeys over unknown\ncountries made by different kinds of dogs. I think it is in such\ninstances that we find evidence of a perfection of one or more of the\nsenses, to which we have no parallel in our own experience. Yet what a\nstrange difference there is in humans, in their power of finding their\nway when in unbeaten tracks! Here, as we know, a savage, untutored and\nguiltless of the faintest breath of civilisation, will succeed where\nthe highest efforts of the white man\u2019s powers of mind avail nothing.\nThe lynx eye of the native will let nothing escape him. The turning of\na leaf from its natural position, the all but imperceptible impress\nof a foreign body on the sandy soil, will tell him what may save the\nlife of the representatives of a higher civilisation, whose fate is\nperchance confided to him. The powers of sight and smell, that tell so\nmany things to the Indian as he follows the trail through the trackless\nforests of North America, and the unerring instincts that will carry a\nnative of Central Africa, or of the desert lands of Asia over the sandy\nwastes, where to the European the unbroken desert gives no faintest\nclue to his position, are closer to those we find in our dog friends\nthan any power we possess.\n\nYet among average men and women of normal intelligence and culture, the\ngreatest possible difference will be found in their \u201csense of country\u201d\nas it is often called.\n\nIn dogs there is at least as much difference in their power of reaching\nhome. Some will be hopelessly lost within a mile or two, while others\nwill make some wonderful, unaided effort to get back to their friends\nthat is crowned with complete success. It is of hounds that such\nstories are generally told, and from the manner of their life, and\nthe wide range of their work, this is not surprising. I have never,\nhowever, come across any well authenticated instance that will compare\nwith the marvellous tales of common report. It is hard to explain how\nan unentered hound could have found her way over one hundred and twenty\nmiles of unknown country. Yet this happened to a young dog that was\nsent by the Master of the Four Burrow Hunt to the kennels of the Devon\nand Somerset Staghounds. The hound was bred at the Scorrier kennels,\nand as his working days had not begun he had not learnt the country in\nthe neighbourhood of his home. When he was sent to his new quarters he\ntravelled by cart and train the whole way. On the night of his arrival\nat Exford he jumped over the kennel wall and disappeared. No one saw\nanything of him on the journey on which he started, so far as his\nfriends could learn, but ten days later he was back at Scorrier.\n\nA similar instance occurred with another hound that was brought to the\nDevon and Somerset country to hunt the wild red deer. When the late\nMaster of the Eggesford country gave up his position, his pack was\nsent by train to Rugby to be sold. Here the Master of the Staghounds\nbought several couple, which were duly taken by train to Dulverton,\nand thence by cart to the kennels that are in the middle of Exmoor. On\ntheir arrival one hound escaped, and the next day she turned up at the\nEggesford Kennels.\n\nAnother instance of the same kind, for the strict accuracy of which\nI can vouch, is told in Miss Serrell\u2019s account of the Blackmore Vale\nHounds.[5] \u201cA remarkable instance of the homing instinct was displayed\nby a hound named Rakish, with whose wonderful feet and legs Mr. Guest\nwas so much struck that he bought her. She came from the South Dorset\nkennels, of which hunt Mr. Featherstonhaugh Frampton was then the\nMaster. At Moreton station Rakish was put into the Guard\u2019s van with a\ncollar and chain on, and she travelled twenty miles in a northeastern\ndirection to Wimborne, and thence twenty-eight miles towards the\nnorthwest to Templecombe, her journey ending two and a half miles\nfarther on, at Milborne Port. She was taken out at Milborne Port\nStation, but no sooner was she on the platform than she snapped her\nchain and made off. For a day or two she was seen occasionally near the\nplace, but after that was neither seen nor heard of, until Mr. Guest\nreceived a letter from Mr. Frampton saying that Rakish had reappeared\nat her old kennels. Nothing was ever known of the manner in which she\nfound her way home, a distance of twenty-two miles as the crow flies.\u201d\n\nThe nature of the surroundings of a modern Skye terrier\u2019s life do not\ngive him the advantage of the knowledge of country possessed by working\nhounds. Yet a young Skye, only eight months old, and when taken to\nLondon for the first time, found his way from a crowded thoroughfare,\nacross Hyde Park, which to him was unknown ground, to the home to which\nhe had been taken on his arrival from the country. The dog\u2019s mistress\nwas staying in a flat at Albert Gate. A day or two after her arrival\nshe took the Skye with her in her carriage, when she went on a shopping\nexpedition. On leaving the carriage in Oxford Street she gave strict\norders to her coachman not to let the puppy escape during her absence.\nThe little thing had the brougham to himself, and no sound was heard\nfrom him. At last the man got down and opened the door to make sure\nthat his charge was all right. Quick as thought the puppy slipped past\nhim, and dashed off down the crowded pavement in the direction of the\nMarble Arch. When his mistress heard what had happened, she gave him\nup for lost. But that evening the house porter found a little waiting\nfigure sitting at the door of the lift, for the lost terrier had found\nhis way back.\n\nA similar instance I know of in connection with a striking looking\nlittle dog, who passed many happy years in a good home at Bath. This\nlittle creature was a cross between a Maltese and a Pomeranian, and\nwhat gave him a very unusual appearance, was that in front he had the\npoints of a Maltese, while behind he had the tightly curled, gaily\ncarried tail and the form of his Pomeranian ancestors. Bobbie was only\neight months old when he was lost in one of the crowded thoroughfares\nof London. As his then owner was living in a suburb, where he had\nrecently changed houses, it seemed impossible that the little thing\nshould find his way home. Nevertheless, on the following morning when\nthe house was opened, the wanderer was found sitting on the doorstep.\nAll through his life Bobbie was in the habit of going off for walks on\nhis own account, and though at Bath, where his days were mostly spent,\nhe was sometimes seen at a great distance from his home, he always\nfound his way back.\n\nHe had many engaging little ways and was very devoted to his mistress,\nwho showered love upon him. He always had a saucer of milk given to him\nby his owner at afternoon tea. But when she was out and any one else\ngave him the milk, he would not touch it. A very sad looking little\nfigure would establish itself at a short distance from the saucer, and\nregard the dainty wistfully. It was not till his mistress returned and\nhe had given her his usual warm welcome that Bobbie would fling himself\nupon the saucer and drink up the milk. When he wanted anything, Bobbie\nhad a fascinating little way of making his wishes known. Taking up his\nposition close to his mistress, he would sit upright and wave his paws\nquickly in the air until his wants were attended to. In many other ways\nhe showed that he was a dog of character. It was the custom in his\nhome for one of the maids to go to the post every evening, and it was\nBobbie\u2019s daily joy to accompany her. But he understood the business\non which she went, and not even the delight of the walk would tempt\nhim till he saw that she had the letters in her hand. Yet Bobbie\u2019s\nevening run was considered good for him, and if there were no letters\nhis mistress would put an envelope into the maid\u2019s hand, saying, \u201cThere\nare the letters,\u201d and Bobbie, satisfied that all was right, would\nspring up with a bark and rush downstairs with all his usual eagerness.\n\n[Illustration: BOBBIE]\n\nPat, a Scotch terrier, once performed a mysterious journey on his own\naccount, and though it has nothing to do with the \u201choming instinct,\u201d\nwell-directed determination, no slight amount of skill, and an\nintelligent comprehension of the situation were required for its\nsuccess. Pat\u2019s home was in an island off the coast of Argyll, and he\nwas the special favourite of the nursery party. The island is a large\none, and it was a fairly long drive from the house to the pier, at\nwhich steamers called. Every year the family went South, to spend a\ntime at Bournemouth, or some other of the South-coast watering places.\nOne or two of their dogs went with them, and one year the children\npleaded for Pat to be of the selected travellers. But the elders\ndecided against him, and Pat was consequently left behind when the\nfamily started. In the steamer the children and nurses took possession\nof the cabin allotted to them. No sooner had the boat moved off from\nthe pier than a wriggling, apologetic little form came out from a dark\ncorner of the cabin. Pat was greeted with tumultuous affection from\nhis delighted playfellows, but how he had got there no one could say.\nThe men servants had seen nothing of him with the luggage carts, and\nit was felt to be impossible that he could have concealed himself in\nthe wagonette. There was, beside, the difficulty of his having boarded\nthe steamer without being seen by any member of the crew or by his own\nfamily. Pat\u2019s exploit could never be explained, though the success with\nwhich he carried it out made him dearer than ever to his young owners.\n\nAn instance of a similar kind of determination not to lose sight of\nhis friends was shown by a powerful black lurcher, named Tip. This dog\nwas a cross between a greyhound and a retriever, and belonged to a man\nwhose home was at Fleet, in Hampshire. On the day when the Basingstoke\nmarket was held, Tip\u2019s master was in the habit of getting a lift in a\npassing cart, that he might attend the market. His dog always ran under\nthe cart and attended his master while he transacted his business.\nThe return journey the man made by rail, from Basingstoke to Fleet,\na distance of some ten or twelve miles. He left his dog to shift for\nhimself when he took his own place in the train. Tip would stand on the\nplatform and watch his master off. Then jumping down on to the line\nhe set off in pursuit of the train. That he never left the line is\nproved by the fact that he did not come to grief by any train passing\nthe opposite way, and Tip would pass Winchfield, the only intermediate\nstation, without relaxing his speed. He performed the journey in a\nmarvellously short time, and from Fleet Station he made his way to\nhis home on the common, which he reached shortly after his master had\narrived.\n\nSome of these performances we must acknowledge to be beyond our range,\nwithout the aid of gifts that we feel are our own special prerogatives.\nIf we could put ourselves into a bodily form similar to that of the\ndog, and at the same time divest ourselves of our higher powers of\nmind, we should have to acknowledge that some special canine sense\nwas needed to get us out of our difficulties. We cannot set the dog\u2019s\nsolution down to mere cleverness, though doubtless the workings of his\nlittle mind often go far beyond what we attribute to it. Of simple\n\u201ccleverness\u201d so called, a small red greyhound was a striking example.\nThe story has more than a flavour of poaching about it, but is an\nevidence of individual efforts of intelligence on the part of the hero.\nThis dog, whose name was Rover, came into the possession of a friend\nof mine in a curious way. The lady was staying with her brother, who\nwas a keen sportsman, and from him she heard the history of a poacher\nin the neighbourhood, who had been giving the keepers a very lively\ntime. The man owned a little red dog, who was an extraordinarily clever\nnight-worker, and the hares were sadly on the decrease in consequence.\nOne evening, after dinner, an urgent message was brought to the master\nof the house that a man, who would not give his name, implored him to\nsee him. The request was granted, and in a few minutes the servant\nreturned to ask the lady to go out to her brother. Here she found him\nin conversation with a respectable looking young man, who was holding\na small greyhound in a leash. Turning to her, her brother said, \u201cThis\nman has brought up the little varmint I was telling you about. He wants\nme to take him, but I tell him that he is no good to me.\u201d\n\nIn appearance Rover was certainly not the sort of dog to appeal to\na shooting man, but the sister\u2019s sympathies were soon enlisted. She\nlistened while the dog\u2019s owner explained that he had got himself into\nsuch serious trouble that he was about to leave the country, and he was\nso fond of his dog Rover that he wanted to find a good home for him\nbefore he left. He added that he did not want anything for the dog,\nbut only to get him into good quarters. My friend being what she was,\nit was a foregone conclusion that she should offer to take Rover, but\nshe expressed a doubt of such a small creature being able to catch a\nhare single-handed. This implied slur of his favourite seemed to put\nthe young man out greatly, and he declared that he had never seen the\nhare who could get away from Rover. The lady\u2019s opinion, however, was\nnot shaken, but she took the dog to an empty dog box and fastened him\nup for the night. The farewell between the dog and his master was very\ntouching, for there was evidently the warmest affection between them.\nThe poor little animal stood whining and tugging at his chain, while\nhis master\u2019s footsteps died away in the distance, and it was only when\nthe last sound had faded that he retired disconsolately into his house\nand curled himself up.\n\nThe next morning his new owner went down into the yard early to see\nhow her dog had fared. To her great astonishment she saw a large hare\nhanging on the wall above his box, and Rover securely fastened up, but\nlooking very stiff and dirty, came slowly out to greet her. When this\nwas reported to her brother, he was much amused. It seemed that the\ndisbelief shown of the dog\u2019s powers had so rankled in the poacher\u2019s\nmind that he had come back in the middle of the night and taken Rover\nout for the last of their many midnight wanderings. A hare that the dog\nhad caught was left in the yard as a testimony to his prowess.\n\nRover in due course went home with his mistress, and before long his\nowner determined to test his powers for herself. Taking Rover with her,\nshe went to a neighbour on whose lands hares were said to be plentiful,\nto ask permission to try and find one. The permission was granted, but\nher friend added, \u201cYou will never catch one with that little thing.\u201d\nNothing daunted, however, Rover and his mistress took the field, with\nthe land owner\u2019s keeper and his old retriever. Field after field was\ntried unsuccessfully, and at last the word for home was given and Rover\nwas put on his leash. In the middle of a large stubble field Rover\u2019s\nmistress heard a shout behind her, and, turning, saw the keeper waving\nhis hat frantically, and pointing with his stick to a hare that was\ncoming straight towards her.\n\nRover spotted it at once, and struggled and strained so violently to\nget away that it was a matter of some difficulty to release him. Off\nhe started in hot pursuit, and followed his quarry across the field at\nracing pace, till the hare began to near the hedge. This the dog, by\ncutting off a corner cleverly, managed to reach before her, and turned\nher back. Away they went again the full length of the field, Rover\nrepeating his manoeuvre at the end and cutting the hare off from\nher refuge. Back once more they raced, until the hare finding herself\nbaulked every time she was within reach of her smeuse, grew desperate.\nThe next time Rover tried to intercept her she made a frantic effort to\npass him. But Rover was too quick for her, and making his rush, rolled\nher over and killed her.\n\nHis owner and the keeper meanwhile had been rushing up and down the\nfield, with the old retriever at their heels, till they had run\nthemselves to a standstill. They then had perforce to wait and watch\nthe issue. When the long struggle was over, the keeper ran up and\npicked up the hare, finding poor little Rover panting hard from his\nexertions lying full length beside her.\n\nAs soon as the man had recovered his breath he turned to the lady and\ngave his view of the situation as follows: \u201cNow, ma\u2019am, don\u2019t you ever\nlet that little devil out of your hand. Why, if some o\u2019 they poaching\nchaps were to lay hands on him there wouldn\u2019t be a hare left in the\ncountry.\u201d\n\nThough Rover\u2019s training was open to suspicion from the point of view\nof the law, there was no doubt of his having responded well to it. He\nhad, moreover, from his own intelligent appreciation of the work he was\ncalled on to perform, added just those details that gave it an artistic\nfinish.\n\n\n\n\nVIII\n\n  \u201c_The faithful dog, in life the firmest friend,\n  The first to welcome, foremost to defend;\n  Whose honest heart is aye his master\u2019s own,\n  Who lives, breathes, fights, and dies for him alone._\u201d\n\n\nThe sense of the ego in the dog is, I think, clearly shown in the\nfeeling of personal responsibility he exhibits. If we had not the\nfeeling of being responsible in our own persons for the carrying out of\nduties, often far from attractive in themselves, and, it may be, even\nrepulsive to us, should we put aside our inclinations and sensibilities\nto face the disagreeables such duties entail, if we could merge our\npersonal responsibility in a general sense of the duties of mankind? It\nis the consciousness of the individual answer, for or against, that we\nmust each make, that forces us to face the inevitable, as we realise\nit. In the lesser round of the simpler duties that confront the dog,\nthe same recognition of the claims made on his personal response to\nthem is shown, and should be accepted as coming from the same source.\n\nWe cannot study the life story of any dog without finding at least\nsome instance of his recognition of duty as duty. Its carrying out may\nentail personal discomfort, or even danger, but he goes forward without\nhesitation or craven fear. In the life of Billy, a small wire-haired\nlady fox-terrier, who answered to this incongruous name, several such\nactions are to be seen. Billy is the very small daughter of well-bred\nparents, and belongs to a lady whose home is in Ireland. She was\noriginally the property of a little son of the house, whose young life\nended in boyhood. His wee dog was very precious to his young master,\nand during his last illness showed her response to his affection by\nspending long hours with the sufferer. One of the last requests the\ndying boy made was that Billy might be allowed to remain indoors at\nnight for the future, instead of being sent to the stables to sleep.\nSuch a petition was, of course, granted; and when her master\u2019s short\nlife ended, Billy was lifted from the bed and found the most loving\nguardians in the mother and sister of her former owner.\n\nIn return for the love lavished on her, Billy is a most vigilant little\nguardian. In her basket she now spends the night in the kitchen. One\nSunday evening on going in to take up her position for the night, Billy\nfound a large kettle on the fire boiling over and sending a stream of\nwater on to the floor. The maids being out, there was no one to appeal\nto in the kitchen regions, so Billy bustled off to the drawing room\nto her mistress, and by whining and catching hold of her dress and\npulling at it she tried to show that all was not right. While her owner\nwas wondering what she meant Billy grew more importunate. Seizing the\nlady\u2019s skirt between her teeth she did her best to pull her mistress\nup; and then, rushing to the door, she paused and looked round to see\nif she were being followed. Then her mistress rose and went to see\nwhat was the matter. When she reached the kitchen the reason of Billy\u2019s\ncall was clear; and the dog, having done her duty, jumped into her\nbasket and curled herself up for the night.\n\n[Illustration: BILLY]\n\nAnother time Billy rushed into her mistress\u2019s room with such signs\nof frantic eagerness to be followed that her appeal was responded to\nimmediately. Leading the way into one of the rooms, Billy flew to the\nhearthrug, where a live coal had fallen from the fire. A large hole\nwas already burnt in the rug, and the carpet was smouldering in most\ndangerous fashion. Without Billy\u2019s summons the consequences must have\nbeen serious, for flames were on the point of breaking out.\n\nYet again Billy came to the rescue; and though on this occasion\npossible jealousy of the cat concerned in the story may have added to\nthe zest with which she performed her duty, she nevertheless did the\nobvious and proper thing. Billy was settled for the night, but it was\nnot long before she discovered that a cat had been shut into the larder\nby mistake, and was making the most of her unwonted opportunities. As\nusual, she rushed off to bring her mistress to the rescue. As Billy\u2019s\nvigilance was now acknowledged and valued, she had little trouble in\npersuading her owner to come down. She led the way to the larder and\ncalmly waited. The cat was discovered busy with a plump chicken; and\nwho shall say what feeling of satisfaction came to Billy\u2019s soul, while\nshe watched the ignominious flight of the startled thief, to sweeten\nthe sense of a duty successfully carried out?\n\nNot many dogs, even of Billy\u2019s unusual beauty, have had such striking\ntestimony paid to their good looks. Billy was in the charge, for\nthe time being, of her young mistress, when an American gentleman\nwas so struck by the dog\u2019s appearance that, with many apologies to\nher guardian for his intrusion, he ventured to ask if she could be\npersuaded to part with her pet. He would be delighted to give a cheque\nfor \u00a320 in exchange for the dog. The offer was politely refused, and\nthe would-be purchaser then offered a blank cheque, to be filled\nin by the owner for any sum she pleased, if she would let him have\nBilly. Touched by the genuine admiration shown for the dog, it was\nthen explained to the enthusiastic American that there were tender\nmemories of a dead brother, to whom Billy had once belonged, that made\nit impossible to consider the noble offer made for the favourite\u2019s\ntransfer.\n\nA very strong sense of duty was shown by Floss, the little terrier of\neventful history, of whom I have spoken several times. She delighted\nin a day\u2019s shooting, but looked upon it as her business to mount\nguard over anything in the shape of dead game. One day she was tested\nseverely. A hare was killed early in the proceedings, and as the guns\nwere going a long way to the next beat, the hare was hung on a tree\nand left. Not long after Floss was missed, and no one could remember\nwhere she had last been seen. Thinking, however, that she had probably\nrun a rabbit to ground and would follow, the guns went on. At the end\nof the day a beater was told off to fetch the hare. When he reached\nthe tree there was a little white form keeping guard over the trophy\noverhead. But Floss did not know the beater, and warned him sharply off\nher preserves. The man tried persuasion, caresses, and threats in turn,\nbut to no avail. Floss was ready to use all her powers in the defence\nof her friends\u2019 property, and the man went back to tell the tale of his\nfailure. Then one of Floss\u2019s friends went to find her and the missing\nhare. As soon as she saw him Floss ran to meet the new-comer with every\nmark of pleasure. She watched him take down the hare, and then trotted\nhome contentedly by his side. Not even the sound of the firing that\ntold her she was losing so much of the day\u2019s fun had been able to tempt\nFloss from the path of duty.\n\nA curious sense of the cares of guardianship Floss showed in regard to\nthe many masks and brushes that adorn the walls of her mistress\u2019s room.\nEvery night before she curled herself up to sleep, she was observed to\nsit upright and look round the walls. If one of the usual trophies had\nbeen removed from its place, she would jump up and proceed on a tour\nof inspection through the house to find it. As soon as she discovered\nit, she barked again and again till some one arrived to see what was\nwanted. Then she waited till her treasure was restored to its usual\nplace, and immediately this was done she settled herself down for the\nnight. A visitor to the house, who was much struck with Floss\u2019s careful\nguard, used to go into the room at night and pretend to touch some of\nthe furry treasures on the walls. Floss would be up and on the alert\nin a moment. Flying at the rash intruder, she showed herself ready to\ndefend her mistress\u2019s property till the pretended examination came to\nan end.\n\nThe strongest personal note of another fox-terrier\u2019s character was an\nindomitable will power. What he wanted he would have, if any efforts of\nhis could secure it. A more independent, self-sufficing little person\nit would be hard to find. Even as a tiny puppy, before he had left his\nmother, he took the ordering of his young life in his own hands. His\nfuture mistress, accompanied by her brother, went to see the litter, of\nwhich Tyke was one, in order to choose a puppy for herself. When the\nstrangers came up to the family group, the young things took no notice\nof them, with the exception of Tyke, who sat up and barked lustily. One\nof the visitors was so taken with the hostile demonstration of the tiny\ncreature that he exclaimed to his sister, \u201cThat\u2019s the little beggar for\nyou.\u201d To this the lady agreed, and in due time the terrier passed into\nher possession.\n\nNow Tyke was not perfect from the point of view of beauty. He was\nspindly in form, and had a tail that curled in reprehensible fashion.\nOver one eye Tyke had a black patch that was the only touch of colour\non his smooth white coat. He soon made his presence felt in his new\nhome, and whenever he did not get what he wanted without delay, he\nwould sit down and, putting his head in the air, give a succession of\npiercing howls. The noise he made was such that for the sake of peace\nsome one was sure to hurry up to see what was wanted. Whether it was a\ndoor that needed to be opened, or whatever at the moment might disturb\nthe comfort of the puppy, he thus took his own means of ensuring its\nremoval.\n\nFrom the first he was attached to his mistress, though he gave her\nbrother an almost equal place in his affections. To go out for a day\u2019s\nrabbit shooting with the latter was one of his greatest joys. While\nhe was engaged in his favourite sport, Tyke got a nasty blow on one\nof his fore legs. He was so severely hurt and the wounded leg had\nswollen so much, that there was no thought of taking him for the next\nday\u2019s shooting. Tyke, as an invalid, was being taken care of in his\nmistress\u2019s room. But no sooner did he hear the usual preparations for\na day among the rabbits being made, than he pushed open the door of\nthe upstairs room, and tore down to the hall in impetuous fashion, as\nbest he could on three legs. But Tyke\u2019s enthusiasm cost him dear. As\nhe turned a corner in the staircase in a headlong rush, he missed his\nfooting and rolled down to the bottom of the last flight of steps. On\nthe way he snapped the bone of the injured leg about halfway up.\n\nTyke\u2019s mistress, who was in the hall at the moment, picked him up, and\nher brother, seeing what had happened, put down his gun and rushed out\nto the stables to get a horse put into the dog-cart, to carry Tyke off\nto have his leg set. In his mistress\u2019s arms the dog was taken by his\ntwo friends to the family doctor, who lived about four miles off. They\nwere sure that the latter would attend to their favourite for them.\nIn this they were not mistaken. They fortunately found the Doctor\nat home, and enlisted his sympathy on behalf of the little sufferer.\nHis mistress suggested that Tyke should have chloroform, so while\nthe medical man busied himself in getting ready a bandage, he handed\nthe chloroform and some cotton wool to his amateur assistants. But\nTyke seemed insensible to the effects of the an\u00e6sthetic, and grew so\nexcited over the attempts to make him take it that the idea was at last\nabandoned. Tyke\u2019s self-control was equal to the demands made on it, and\nhe remained perfectly quiet throughout the operation, gently licking\nhis mistress\u2019s hand, as a sign of comprehension and of gratitude for\nthe efforts made in his behalf.\n\nDuring the time that Tyke was an invalid, he came in for a carriage\naccident of a somewhat sensational kind. He was so unhappy at being\nleft at home when his friends were out of the house that his mistress\ngenerally carried the little thing with her wherever she went,\ncomfortably tucked under her arm. One morning, when a friend had to be\ndriven to the station, the horse, whose business it was to do this work\nnot being available, an old chestnut hunter named Bessie was pressed\ninto the service. The wagonette was to be used and the man was to\ndrive, so the two ladies and Tyke took their places in the back part.\nThe mare did not take kindly to her new duties, but after a good deal\nof fidgeting about at the start, drew the party safely to the station.\n\nOn the return journey, Bessie was startled by a dealer\u2019s cart that\ncame rattling up behind her at a great pace. Laying back her ears she\nstarted off at a mad gallop, and the coachman, in his efforts to get\na hold on her, pulled one rein harder than the other. Bessie\u2019s head\nbeing thus turned towards a fence, she made straight for it. Being a\ncapital jumper--as indeed her owner\u2019s hunters were required to be--she\nlanded well on the top of a broad bank. But here she was reminded of\nthe unwonted encumbrance that hampered her movements. The two front\nwheels of the carriage she had carried on to the bank, but the rest of\nthe conveyance remained hopelessly behind. After struggling vainly for\na few seconds to keep her footing, Bessie rolled back into the ditch,\nwhere carriage, horse, and man were mixed up in hopeless confusion.\nTyke and his mistress fortunately had made their escape, for the\nlatter, with the dog in her arms, had, while the mare was striving to\nbalance herself on the bank, taken a flying leap over the closed door\ninto the road, where she landed happily on her feet. Looking round\nfor assistance, she saw that the cart, that had been the cause of the\nmischief, had followed, and the driver was contemplating the scene of\nconfusion in the ditch. Catching hold of his horse by the head, the\nlady told the man to go to the assistance of her coachman. At last,\nhatless, and with his coat nearly torn from his back, but, to his\nmistress\u2019s great relief, without serious injuries, the coachman was\nextricated from the d\u00e9bris. Then more people arrived on the scene, and\nthe poor mare was got up. She, too, had, in a marvellous way, escaped\nfurther injury than some cuts about the head, but the carriage looked\nlike a huge spilt box of matches.\n\nIt was not long before the bone of Tyke\u2019s leg joined, and when the last\nbandage was taken off it was seen that the injured leg was as straight\nas the other. His love for a day\u2019s shooting was as keen as ever, and\nhis attachment to his owner\u2019s brother was so marked that the former\nwas always afraid her dog would be carried off by him. When a visit\nof her brother\u2019s was coming to an end, she determined, therefore, to\nleave Tyke at home when she drove down to the station on the morning\nof his departure. The dog was left shut into her bedroom, and the\njourney to the station passed without incident. But the dog-cart had\nonly just turned homewards when Tyke\u2019s mistress caught sight of a\nsmall creature tearing down the hill in front of her and clearly bound\nfor the station. She knew it must be Tyke, so flinging the reins on\nthe horse\u2019s neck she jumped down just in time to catch the fugitive.\nHe was promptly put into the dog-cart and driven home, and for once\nTyke\u2019s efforts to get his own way were defeated. A maid servant was, of\ncourse, responsible for his release. When she opened the door of the\nbedroom Tyke slipped past her, and, finding the front door open, he had\nmade straight for the station, covering the three miles in less time\nthan the horse had taken.\n\nTo one of the neighbouring country houses, situated some three miles\noff across the fields, Tyke was a constant visitor. He had often\ngone over there from his home for a day\u2019s shooting, and this was a\nperformance after Tyke\u2019s own heart. It was not long before he took to\nmaking visits there on his own account, for he found the time dull at\nhome on the days when his mistress was hunting. Tyke would consequently\nmake his way over, and then sit down and howl at the front door until\nhe was let in. The gentleman to whom he specially attached himself\non his visits was in the habit of having a late breakfast before he\nstarted for a day\u2019s shooting. Such an arrangement suited Tyke to\nperfection. He could see his mistress off on a hunting morning, and\nstill be able to reach the house in time to share in the breakfast and\nstart in good order for the day\u2019s work. This over, Tyke would return\nhome with his temporary companion, and there, curling himself up in\nfront of the fire, he would rest peacefully for some hours till he\nhad slept off his fatigue. As soon as he woke, he considered it time\nto return home, and announced his wishes in the usual manner. The\nprolonged and continuous howls that echoed over the house, if he found\nhimself shut in, made his friends glad to clear the way for him. But\nall were fond of the strange little creature, and one very wet night\nthey determined to keep him with them till the morning. Tyke seemed to\nacquiesce in the proposed arrangement, and the household retired to\nbed. But after a time Tyke came to other conclusions, and lifted up\nhis voice in such piercing fashion that at last the butler came down\nand opened the front door for him. At four o\u2019clock in the morning his\nmistress was roused from sleep by Tyke\u2019s well-known calls under her\nwindow. In the quiet night air the shrill summons was enough to rouse\nthe household, and she therefore got up obediently and let him in.\nTyke must have taken an optimistic view of the general complaisance\nof humans, as he curled himself up in his accustomed place for the\nremaining hours of the night.\n\nHe combated successfully arrangements that were not to his mind when\nanother day\u2019s shooting was in question. His shooting friend was going\nwith a party after pheasants, and Tyke, when he paid one of his usual\nmorning visits, found that after breakfast he was no longer wanted. He\nwas, indeed, handed over to the care of his friend the butler, who,\nfastening a lead of string to his collar, gave him into the charge of\nthe local postman. The latter was going as far as the village, about\na mile from Tyke\u2019s home, and the butler--with memories of Tyke\u2019s past\nexploits in his mind--declared that he was well able to find his way\nhome from the village. The postman undertook the charge, and trudged\noff, holding the string carefully. The dog was no trouble to lead, and\nafter a time his guardian paid no more attention to him. Great was his\nhorror, therefore, on arriving at the village where the dog was to be\nset free, to find only a collar trailing on the ground behind him. Tyke\nas usual had taken his own means to carry out his wishes, and having\nadroitly popped his head out of his collar, he returned forthwith to\nthe house from which he had been sent.\n\n[Illustration: \u201cARE THEY COMING?\u201d\n\nTYKE]\n\nThe troubles of the postman however did not end here. His was a slow\nworking and a conscientious mind. He was in possession of a dog\ncollar, on which was inscribed the name of the lost dog\u2019s owner. This\nhe understood was felony, and in much perturbation of mind he made\nhis way to the house of one of the church-wardens and told his fears.\nHe gave the collar into the custody of this respectable guardian, and\nbegged him to assure Tyke\u2019s mistress of his innocence in the matter.\n\nIt needed very little to make Tyke understand any proposed arrangements\nfor the day, and to take his measures accordingly. At last his friends\nhad to be very careful what they said before him. He was lying one\nmorning asleep before the fire, in the room in which his mistress was\nsitting, when the latter\u2019s brother came in with a letter in his hand.\n\u201cI have been asked to shoot at S. to-day,\u201d he observed to his sister.\n\u201cWill you drive me over?\u201d \u201cYes,\u201d was the answer, \u201cbut Tyke must not go.\u201d\n\nTyke, who had started up all attention when the visitor entered the\nroom, slipped out instead of resuming his old place, as soon as he\nfound what was going to happen. When the dog-cart came round and his\ntwo friends got in there was no sign of him. But when they reached the\nend of the long drive, across which a public road runs, they caught\nsight of Tyke\u2019s head peeping out from the bushes on the top of the bank\nfacing them. Directly he saw that he was noticed, and having satisfied\nhimself that his friends were really coming, Tyke scampered off across\nthe fields, paying no heed to the calls that followed him. When his\nmistress arrived at S., there was a sedate looking little dog sitting\nby the front door waiting for her.\n\nTyke\u2019s life was a long and a merry one. It ended peacefully, for one\nmorning it was a little lifeless form that his friends found lying in\nhis basket.\n\n\n\n\nIX\n\n\u201c_There can be no question at all that the dog is capable of a kind\nof fidelity, which presents all the characteristics of loyal and\npassionate devotion. When that is the case ... there appear to be the\ngerm of true moral and spiritual quality._\u201d\n\n\nIn the obedience that we claim and receive in such full measure from\nour dogs, an element of thoughtful discrimination is often shown in\nthe response they give to our orders. Instead of following directions\nblindly they display a nice sense of the possibilities of the situation\nwhen all does not turn out as expected. In his behaviour a collie,\nwho had been trained as a sheep dog, showed a power of reasoning that\nwould have done credit to any human. The dog had gone to Scotland with\nhis master, who was living at the time at Holyrood, where he filled\nthe post of equerry to his relation, the High Commissioner of the day.\nOn going into a large shop in one of the principal thoroughfares in\nEdinburgh, his owner told the collie to wait outside the shop door\nfor him. The dog lay down obediently, and time passed without the\nreappearance of his master. The latter had indeed forgotten his dog,\nand had gone out by a door on the other side of the building. At length\nthe collie, feeling that all was not right, got up and trotted back\nto his master\u2019s rooms. Here he was seen by the valet, but he would\nnot allow any one to touch him, and having satisfied himself that\nhis master was not there, went back to his place in front of the shop\ndoor. Business detained his owner till the evening, and when at length\nhe went home, he heard from his man of the dog\u2019s visit, and remembered\nthat the poor collie had been told to wait for him at the shop. Calling\na cab, he drove off to the place where he had left him and found the\ndog obediently waiting for his return.\n\nIt is evident that when the dog realised that his master\u2019s visit had\nbeen unduly prolonged, he thought that he might have been forgotten,\nand therefore took the obvious course of one possessed of reasoning\npower, of going to see if his owner had returned home. But he was\nmindful of his trust, and finding that his master had not gone back\nwithout him, he was satisfied that the order given him must be carried\nout to the letter. A more intelligent appreciation of the circumstances\nin which he was placed it would be hard to find.\n\nAnother and a wonderful instance of reasoning power in carrying out\nan order was shown by a collie, who was one of the performers in the\nsheep-dog trials held some years ago at the Alexandra Palace. A great\ncrowd had gathered to watch the proceedings, and each dog had to\nsingle out three sheep from the flock, and drive them to a hillside\nabout half a mile distant. On the hill was the pen into which he was\nto drive them. One fine collie had three wild and frightened sheep in\ncharge, and for a long time he tried in vain to round them into the\npen. They refused to face the opening, and again and again scattered\nin wild confusion whenever the collie tried to drive them in. The\nspectators watched his efforts with breathless interest. Suddenly the\ncollie dropped as if exhausted, and lay with his back to the sheep, who\nwere standing some little distance from the opening into the pen. He\nwas panting with his exertions, and as he lay prone on the ground he\nseemed to have given up the game and to take no further interest in his\ncharges. But the onlookers saw that every now and again he worked his\nbody slowly backwards along the ground, the movement being so gentle\nthat the sheep did not take alarm at it, though they moved gradually\nfurther away from him and consequently nearer to the pen. When the\noft repeated manoeuvre had brought them sufficiently near, the dog\nsprang to his feet and, twisting round with a shrill bark, drove\nthe sheep with a sudden rush inside. A chorus of cheers showed the\nspectators\u2019 appreciation of the clever way in which he had surmounted\nthe difficulty. No man could have shown more patience in compassing\nthe desired end, or have taken a more subtle method of overcoming\nopposition.\n\nA clear evidence of reasoning power was the source of great delight\nto the many friends of a little dog called Nanky Poo. The name shows\nthat the little favourite had foreign blood in her veins, and though\nNanky Poo could not boast of pure descent, her mother was a Pekinese\nspaniel. The daughter was black, with white front and toes. She had a\nhead that did credit to her mother\u2019s side of the family, had a tail\nthat curled over her back, and was too long in the leg in proportion\nto her size. But in spite of all blemishes in appearance, Nanky Poo\nwas as fascinating a little specimen of her kind as any dog-lover need\nwish to know. In her country home, the spaniel used to have her basket\nin the front hall, which was used as a sitting room during the summer\nmonths. Here Nanky Poo was shut in, during her owner\u2019s absence from\nthe house. She was too small and too precious to be allowed to meet\nthe possible dangers of woods and fields without a guardian at hand to\nprotect her. But if she was left alone long, Nanky Poo found the time\ntedious, and whenever the front bell rang, and the man came to open\nit for the expected visitors, she would slip past him and make her\nescape. It sometimes happened that when the summons was answered no\none was found waiting at the door, nor was any one to be seen in the\ndrive. When it became of frequent occurrence for the man to be summoned\non a fruitless errand, some of the household determined to solve the\nmystery, and, unknown to Nanky Poo, kept a watch upon her through the\nglass door. When the little thing got tired of solitude she was seen\nto get out of her basket and go to the wall on one side of the hall.\nHere a dainty paw was lifted to the bell wire that ran round the wall\nbut a few inches from the ground. Nanky Poo pressed the wire down in\nbusiness-like fashion, and when she was satisfied that she had brought\nabout the desired result, she ran to the door that communicated with\nthe house and took up her station in front of it. With her head on\none side, she sat listening intently for the sound of approaching\nfootsteps, and by the time the servant arrived she was ready to take\nadvantage of her chance of liberty. Nanky Poo had a short but happy\nlife, with a mistress who was devoted to her.\n\nA high form of intellectual development must be allowed to those\ndogs who are always ready in an emergency to help themselves out\nof a difficulty, or in any other way to conform to the unexpected\nrequirements of the moment. Such power has been shown by Bobbins, one\nof the old Scotch bobtail cattle dogs, throughout her life. Bobbins\nis a most fascinating dog, both in appearance and manner, and is of\na gentle, loving nature to her friends. She is a blue grey with tan\nmarkings, and has a wonderful coat that resists the most inclement of\nweather. Though Bobbins came from her home in Lundy Island at an early\nage, and with her present owner has had none of the work in guarding\nsheep or cattle that is the ordinary portion of her kind, she still\nshows a keen appreciation of the duties to which she was bred.\n\n[Illustration: BOBBINS]\n\nNot long ago Bobbins was with her mistress in the fields when they\ncame upon some men at work. One of the men was trying to prevent some\nheifers from forcing their way through a gate, that led into the field.\nHer mistress called to Bobbins to go to the man\u2019s assistance. Just\nas the dog reached him the heifers charged through, and for a moment\nBobbins\u2019s mistress feared her dog would be killed in the mad rush\nof the young things. Bobbins was quick to see her danger, and threw\nherself flat on the ground. One of the heifers who was coming straight\nat her jumped over her prostrate form. No sooner had she passed than\nBobbins was on her feet, and, heading the rushing heifers, turned them,\nand drove them safely through the gate.\n\nAnother story that shows Bobbins\u2019s readiness to adapt her methods to\nthe needs of the moment is told by Miss Serrell, and once again I\nwill quote from her.[6] Bobbins was giving her assistance in the work\nof driving a refractory bull, which refused to answer to the dog\u2019s\nrepeated jumps at his head. Changing her tactics, Bobbins suddenly ran\nbehind him, \u201cseized him by the tail, and hung on so persistently that\nshe was swung in the air, as the bull whirled round in his efforts to\nget at her. Failing to dislodge her, the animal at last took fright and\nbeat a precipitate retreat.\u201d The bull apparently nursed a sense of his\nwrongs, and one day charged Bobbins unexpectedly, and all but caught\nher. The dog only escaped \u201cby turning head over heels and rolling\ncleverly to one side.\u201d Then she proceeded to take her revenge for the\nunprovoked onslaught. Before the bull had time to turn, Bobbins was\nsnapping at his heels, and perhaps fearing a second attack on his tail,\nthe creature made off, and for the future he and Bobbins preserved an\nattitude of armed neutrality.\n\nIt is of Bobbins that the delicious story is told of a judge who, not\nbeing acquainted with the breed to which the dog belonged, put her down\nas \u201ca bearded collie.\u201d When his attention was drawn to the fact that\nthe so-called collie had no tail, the worried judge made a reply that\ndeserves to be immortal. \u201cIf she has not a tail, she ought to have\none.\u201d Needless to say that with such shortcomings Bobbins carried off\nno award of merit from the show.\n\nAnother member of the wonderful dog family that Bobbins\u2019s mistress\ngathers round her is a pure white smooth fox-terrier named Roy. This\ndog is a son of Racer\u2019s, who was a distinguished member of the sporting\npack, whose exploits on land and water their owner has recounted. Roy\nhas the sporting instincts that marked his sire, and nothing in the\nway of vermin comes amiss to him either above or under ground. But he\nrecognises the limitations of what is lawful in the chase, and respects\nthe inhabitants of the home poultry yard. Yet even they contribute to\nthe pleasures of life for him. As soon as he is let out for his morning\nrun, Roy dashes down the kennel steps and through the yard, scattering\nthe game fowls in all directions as he makes for the gate leading into\nthe fields. The more the birds fly and scream, the better pleased is he\nwith this beginning of the morning\u2019s joys, but he has too keen a sense\nof duty to offer to touch them.\n\nIn the summer months it is no unusual thing to see a number of ordinary\nbarn-door fowls scattered among the home game-chicks. The former are\nbought by the owner of the place from the cottagers round, who are\nafraid to keep them for fear of their falling a prey to prowling foxes,\nand thus spoiling their season\u2019s return. The first time Roy found such\nunaccustomed mongrels among the dark brown aristocrats of the yard, his\nduty appeared to him in a pleasanter light than usual. It was clear\nthat such nondescript sort of animals could have no right there, and\nhis mistress was apprised of something unusual going on by the sound\nof a great commotion in the yard. Hurrying from the kennels to see\nwhat was the matter, she met Roy with one of the strange birds in his\nmouth. She stooped to take it from him, and restrain him from further\ndepredations. But Roy had no idea of wasting time in the delightful\noccupation that duty for once opened out to him. Dropping the chick,\nhe scampered back before his mistress could secure him. Another trophy\nof the chase was brought and laid at her feet, and this time Roy\nwas caught and a lead slipped on as the surest means of curbing his\nenthusiasm. Roy was now clearly puzzled. His mistress was angry, and\ntold him sternly he was not to meddle with the new-comers. Yet, as he\nunderstood things, these were intruders, and had no more right to a\nplace in the yard than from an \u00e6sthetic point of view they added to its\nappearance. He stood looking wistfully up into his mistress\u2019s face,\nhis stern carried low, but wagging it gently, as he always does when\nhe is found fault with. Poor Roy, the aspect of the day had indeed\nchanged, and the problem that confronted him was hard to solve. He\nhad tried to do his duty in clearing his own ground of unauthorised\ntrespassers, and he was being scolded for his pains. It was hard indeed\nthat such an unwontedly delightful duty should not be appreciated by\nhis usually discerning mistress. But though the reasons that dictated\nher conduct were beyond him, he understood the order given. For the\nfuture, the homely creatures must be allowed to join in the general\nrush that signalised his rapid passage across the yard, and he never\nagain attempted to touch them. The carrying out of his personal\nresponsibility in guarding his mistress\u2019s property must have seemed\nbeset with unknown dangers to him from that time.\n\nThe duty attached to his position as guardian of his home also presents\nitself sometimes in attractive form to a thoroughbred mongrel named\nBoy. This dog is, in his home circle, said to be a Russian poodle. In\ncolour he is white with black markings, and has a silky, curly coat\nand tail. He has a round head, in which there is plenty of room for\nbrains, and a pair of very intelligent eyes. Belonging to his owners\nis an old and very fat Dalmatian who answers to the name of Tip. The\nlatter is not allowed in the house, but is always finding means of\nignoring the prohibition. Boy, whose own position is assured, feels\ncalled on to resent the intrusion. As soon as he catches sight of Tip\non forbidden ground, he flies to tell his mistress what has happened.\nThen comes Boy\u2019s full sense of virtue rewarded. While Tip is stealing\naway dejectedly from the coveted comforts of the house, Boy shows his\ndelight in the situation by dancing about in glee, and letting off a\nseries of joyous barks.\n\n[Illustration: BOY]\n\nBoy is a great ratter, and with his first exploit in this line\nis connected an early foreshadowing of the serious views as to\nguardianship he now holds. In this case untold joys were found that\nproved too strong to be resisted. Boy was only a few months old when\nhis mistress shut him up in a room into which a rat was known to\nfind its way. In due course the rat appeared, and Boy, yielding to\nhis hereditary instincts, fought and eventually killed it. But he\nknew nothing of the life history of the strange creature whose span\nof existence he had ended. Was it not a pet of the mistress whose\nbelongings he was bound to guard? When his owner came in to see how\nthings had fared, she was met by a shame-faced little creature, who\ncrawled to her feet and begged forgiveness for the crime he believed he\nhad committed. Since then Boy has learned much about rats in general,\nand suffers no qualms when he has laid low one of their mischievous\ntribe.\n\n\n\n\nX\n\n  \u201c_To come to speech they have it questionless,\n  Although we understand it not so well,\n  They bark as good old Saxon as may be,\n  And that in more variety than we._\u201d\n\n\nA natural freak among dogs is Bettina Corona, of high sounding title.\nThis small creature contains in her tiny form as many blemishes from\na show point of view as any terrier--so called--that has ever lived.\nIn weight she is only eight pounds, and in her photograph can be seen\nthe bandy fore legs, the prick ears, the woolly curling coat, and\naltogether ridiculous tail that go to make up her physical attractions.\nBut a lion\u2019s heart is in that small body, and she is a sportswoman to\nthe core, while a more fascinating little will-o\u2019-the-wisp bundle of\nmercurial attractions it would be hard to find.\n\nBettina Corona was born in the Coronation year of King Edward VII,\nand her pedigree is of the longest. Her sire is one of the greatest\nchampions of the kennel-world, and was sent to America at a very high\nprice. But in compassion to her high relations, let us draw a veil\nover her family history, and concern ourselves only with her very\ninteresting little person.\n\nShe is very compact and sturdily built, and has such a powerful jaw and\nrare set of teeth as to make her a very formidable creature to give\noffence to. Her curly coat is of quite extraordinary thickness, and\nresembles that of a sheep. So luxuriant is its growth that like a sheep\nshe has to be shorn in the course of the summer, or Bettina with her\nactive ways would be in danger of her life. Bettina\u2019s time of beauty\nthen is in the winter, when she is a mass of woolly curls from the tip\nof her aggressive little nose to the end of her gaily carried stern.\n\nThe amount of digging that Betty can get through is surprising, and\nin the orchard, where she spends a part of each day, she passes hours\ndigging for field mice. Nothing indeed comes amiss to her in the way\nof game. She has followed a rabbit through all the turns and twists of\na very large earth, and either killed or bolted it. Even cockchafers\nand stag beetles do not come amiss, for want of larger prey, and these\nshe crunches up with a terrible finality. Her greatest enemies are,\nhowever, cats, and she will literally go through fire and water to\nreach them. Amongst her many feline foes is a fine long-haired tabby,\nhalf as big again as herself, who rejoices in the name of Jim. Now\nJim is a great poacher, and one morning Betty lighted on him as he\nwas returning from a midnight prowl. Jim was carrying a young rabbit,\nfrom which he evidently contemplated making his breakfast. But Betty\nhad other views, and after a very noisy, skirmishing sort of fight,\nsucceeded in getting possession of it. She then marched triumphantly\ninto the house, carrying the prize, and making herself as big and fussy\nover it as she possibly could.\n\nAnother time she did not come off so well, as she rashly caught Jim by\nthe tail as he was vanishing through the stable door. Swinging round on\nher, Jim fixed his claws on each side of her head, and seized one of\nher ears with his teeth. But Betty was game, and refused to release her\nhold. Fortunately the coachman was at hand to come to her aid, and with\nthe stable broom tried to get in between them. The commotion soon drew\nher mistress to the spot, and she made frantic grabs at the struggling\nBetty. At length, Betty was seized by the neck and pulled off, and her\nmistress fled with her, while Betty fought and yelled to get back to\nthe fray. Jim being now perfectly infuriated turned on the coachman,\nbut the broom being well handled, he was finally swept out of the\nstable and the door closed. It was a very long time before the other\ncombatant calmed down, and Betty spent the rest of the morning rushing\nabout wildly and hunting for the enemy.\n\n[Illustration: BETTINA CORONA]\n\nWhen Bettina emerges from the seclusion of the wired-in orchard, she\nhas a long lead attached to her collar, as this is the only way of\nkeeping her out of mischief. Her constant endeavour is to jerk the lead\nout of the hand of her captor, and one day, having escaped from her\nmistress\u2019s vigilance by this means, she rushed headlong into a cottage.\nThe scene that followed defies description. A black and white cat sat\nin peaceful enjoyment by the fire, and near by was an infant slumbering\nin its cradle. Betty flung herself with her usual impetuosity on the\ncat, and the terrified animal, in its efforts to escape, sprang into\nand out of the cradle as a first effort. Betty cleared the cradle\nin a flying leap, and, pinning the victim on the far side, a fierce\nfight began. The chairs and other articles of furniture were sent\nflying in all directions, as Betty\u2019s lead wound itself round them in\nher mad struggles. The mistress of the house, brought hurriedly from\nher domestic duties, seized a chair as being the handiest weapon, and\nwith it uplifted rushed on the fighters, while three terrified children\nclung screaming to her skirts. At this juncture, Betty\u2019s owner appeared\non the scene, and making a snatch at the uplifted chair with one hand,\nshe succeeded in grasping Betty\u2019s lead with the other, and swung the\ndelinquent off her feet. Half choking, she was forced to release her\nhold of the cat, and poor puss straightway fled up the staircase into\nsafety.\n\nThe startled woman received compensation for her fright and trouble,\nand, as Betty was borne off she turned her attention to the baby, who,\ndisturbed from its sleep, had been doing its best to add to the general\nconfusion.\n\nBettina\u2019s great delight is to escape into the woods, where she will\nstay in a very ecstasy of hunting till she is captured and brought\nback. She and the two other house dogs, Bobbins a Scotch bobtail, and\nBosky a beautiful wire-haired fox-terrier, all make a mad rush for the\ndining room as soon as the gong sounds for luncheon. Betty generally\nwins the race, but one day when she had been excited by the constant\nyapping of a dog in a distant covert, she turned at the foot of the\nstairs and, rushing through the open door that led to the kitchen\nregions, tore through the back premises and disappeared to freedom\nand hunting. The butler waiting by the dining-room door saw her turn,\nand knowing her proclivities and the care with which she was guarded,\nrushed after her. The cook, too, had seen her flight from the kitchen,\nand joined in the chase. But Betty was disappearing like a flash of\ngreased lightning down the drive, and pursuit on foot was clearly\nuseless. The man jumped on his bicycle, and pursued the fugitive alone.\n\nAt the end of the carriage drive, Betty, finding herself hard pressed,\nturned out of the road and scrambling through the hedge, made at top\nspeed across the arable field that lay between her and the covert\nwhither she was bound. The going was heavy, and the man soon found\nhimself in difficulties as he sped on foot after her. Happily there\nwas a plough at work in the field, squeaking loudly as is the way of\nDorset ploughs--for what Dorset ploughman does not scorn to oil his\nshares? Bettina was immediately all attention, and hurrying up to see\nwhat strange animal was making the noise, the ploughman promptly put\nhis foot on her lead, and stopping his horses waited for her panting\npursuer to come up. A very snappish and disappointed little creature\nwas then carried back to the house.\n\nYet Betty is very good-tempered with the dogs she knows, and romps and\nplays merrily with them. Her greatest favourite is Bobbins, and with\nher she has endless games. So strong is she that the tiny thing will\njump up at her friend\u2019s head, and dragging her over on her back will\nhold her down and pretend to worry her. She can lift the larger bobtail\ncompletely off the ground, and all her tricks the other takes in good\npart. They are often to be seen curled up together, with Betty\u2019s head\npillowed on her friend\u2019s back.\n\nAn instance of good memory Bettina once showed in connection with a dog\nof my own. This dog had been on a visit with me to Betty\u2019s home, and as\nthe poor dog was ill at the time, the volatile Betty and her pressing\nattentions were too much for him. The two dogs had consequently been\nkept much apart, with the result that the aim and object of Betty\u2019s\nexistence was to get to him, and he roused her keenest interest. Some\nfive months afterwards I was there again, but without my dog. When I\ncame into the house I met Betty, and she rushed at me in her usual\nimpetuous way. Scarcely staying, however, for my pat of greeting, she\ntore upstairs to the bedroom that I had occupied on my previous visit,\nand searched every corner of it to see if my dog was there. For several\ndays she insisted on renewing her search from time to time, as she\nclearly thought the dog was being kept from her as he had been before.\nThe instant linking in her little mind of the expected presence of the\ndog with my own appearance showed that Betty\u2019s memory is enduring.\n\nAnother practical joke among dogs was one with whom a friend had a\nbowing acquaintance in a Midland town, where she was keeping house for\na brother. This dog lived in a long street of suburban houses tenanted\nby workmen. He was a pretty little dog, with a fine silky coat and\na sharp nose, a cross probably between a small spaniel and a black\nPomeranian. He used to have great games with the children in the street\nwhere he lived, the favourite form of amusement being for the children\nto try and secure something--a stick or cap--that the dog held. The way\nthe little thing\u2019s eyes sparkled as he proved more than a match for\nmany of his playmates, was as effective as any laugh. His popularity\nwas evidently great, and my friend, who often passed by his house,\nnever saw him anything but furry and jocose and on the best of terms\nwith his surroundings. On one occasion, indeed, he was found doing a\nlittle bullying on his own account, though not without provocation. A\nchild, whose face and appearance were far from prepossessing, always\nwent down the street in terror of his life. A stone, thrown in wanton\nmischief at the dog, had roused the latter\u2019s ire, and no sooner did the\nchild appear in sight than a little black imp, barking wildly, would\nrush out and, circling madly round his enemy, disappear, only to pop\nout from some unexpected corner and renew the attack further on.\n\nWhen the muzzling mania was abroad, the lady was anxious about the fate\nof her little friend. It was evident that his owner was away all day,\nand that the dog took his amusement at will from the doorstep. She\nwas glad to see him as merry hearted as ever and not a little amused\nto find that the new regulations were so far understood by him that he\npreferred a policeman to any other playmate. He delighted in presenting\nhis unmuzzled face, and being chased, and somehow, possibly because\nthe policemen were not entirely untouched by the joke, he was a much\nhunted but never caught dog. But in time the imp himself needed more\nexcitement, and then came discreet visits to the police station. It was\nsummer, and the doors stood invitingly open, and it was no uncommon\nsight for a little black unmuzzled head to come peeping round the\ndoorpost, and a shrill, impertinent bark to dare the inmates to the\nchase. As the police station was at some distance from the dog\u2019s home,\nit seemed as if he was drawn there by the knowledge that a spice of\nreal danger heightened the enjoyment of the game.\n\nNot so irresponsible a member of the canine race, or one who did\nviolence by her appearance to the feelings of well-bred relatives,\nwas a beautiful fox-terrier named Venus. Yet more than once this\nterrier showed a strong and apparently unfounded dislike to strangers.\nVenus was a hound-marked dog, with tan head and black-marked body,\nand she was of a playful and confiding nature that endeared her to\na large circle of friends. She always accepted any acquaintance of\nher mistress, and though in some cases she only showed the tolerance\nthat the laws of hospitality and good manners demanded, to others she\nextended a warmer welcome. In all cases she seemed to make up her mind\nabout a stranger at the first glance. One day a guest arrived to\nluncheon, and Venus was as usual curled up in a favourite position in\nthe drawing room. The noise of the opening door roused her, and after a\nmomentary look at the stranger, who was advancing to greet her hostess,\nVenus sprang to the ground and rushing to the visitor, jumped up and\ncaught her firmly by the sleeve. Fortunately the little teeth only met\nin the sleeve itself, but the lady was terrified and shaking Venus off,\nshe exclaimed that she hated dogs and they were never to be trusted.\nVenus\u2019s mistress was utterly taken aback at the onslaught, for such\na thing had never happened before. She captured the little criminal\npromptly and sent her off to be shut up until her visitor should have\nleft the house. After many apologies calm was restored, and the party\nadjourned to the dining room.\n\nBut the maids of the household had not heard of Venus\u2019s disgrace, and\none of them going into the room where she was, set her at liberty.\nThe tiny feet instantly pattered downstairs and made their way to the\ndining room. Through the open door the dog sped unnoticed by any of the\nparty, and, singling out her former victim, made straight for her and\nagain fastened on to her arm. The second offence was worse than the\nfirst, and the frightened visitor was only reassured when her hostess\nreturned with the key of the door of the room into which she had locked\nthe dog.\n\nThe strangest thing about the occurrence was that Venus had never seen\nthe lady before, and the only explanation of her conduct seemed to be\nthat a glance told her the stranger was to be regarded as an enemy,\ninasmuch as she had no love for dogs. It is certain that we poor humans\nwould save ourselves much suffering and many painful disillusions if we\nhad the same intuitive knowledge of those who, under the amenities of\nsocial usage, secretly regard us with disfavour.\n\nThe second time that Venus put her mistress to shame, she had more\napparent ground for her action. In this case she was in a strange\nhouse, where she was visiting with her mistress. A lady entered the\ndrawing room, who was perfectly unknown to the terrier, though she was\non terms of intimacy with the members of the household. As soon as the\nusual greetings were over, the visitor turned her attention to the dog.\nStanding in front of the couch where Venus lay curled up, she exclaimed\nin a teasing voice, \u201cDo you call that thing a terrier?\u201d and laughed in\na manner clearly insulting to a well-bred dog.\n\nVenus lay quietly watching her, but her eyes glowed like two little\nballs of fire, and as the laugh ended she made one spring, and,\nfastening her teeth in the visitor\u2019s dress, shook and worried it with\nevery appearance of anger. The offender was borne off in disgrace and\nwas shut up in her owner\u2019s bedroom, there to reflect on her misdeeds.\nSome days later the same lady came to the house again, and no sooner\nwas she inside the door than with a rush Venus was upon her, and\nworrying her dress in the way she had done before.\n\nThe gentle, amiable nature of the dog made these onslaughts all the\nmore remarkable, for the delicate marks of her attention she bestowed\non her friends were such as endeared her to them. To any one who was\nadmitted to her favour--and to others she simply showed a well-bred\nindifference--she would carry a tiny stick, or failing that, or any\nsmall article she could find about the room, she would abstract a small\npiece of coal from the coal box, and going up to the selected person,\nwould offer it, with every appearance of conferring a favour. Should\nany one, however, attempt to take the not always tempting morsel from\nher, she would refuse to part with it, and intimate that her playful\ncondescension was not to be imposed on.\n\nVenus had a way of extending the love she felt for her mistress to some\nof her belongings that occasionally led to embarrassment. Whenever the\ndog was left at home during her owner\u2019s absence, she always searched\nfor a pair of old slippers sacred to the use of the bedroom, and made\nuse of one of them for a pillow. If she grew tired of staying in one\nroom, Venus would carry her prize downstairs and, putting it down in\nfront of the drawing room fire, curl up on it and await her mistress\u2019s\nreturn. One day, when the latter came home late from hunting, she\nwas told that some friends were awaiting her in the drawing room. On\nentering the room, she saw to her dismay a pair of dilapidated slippers\noccupying a prominent position in front of the fire, and Venus in high\nspirits doing the honours. As a mark of special favour she had offered\none of the slippers to a lady who was a great friend of hers, and who\nwas thoroughly enjoying the joke.\n\nHer owner could not account for the anger she showed to the two\nstrangers who received such startling marks of her disfavour. She must\noften have been in the society of other people who were not to be\ncounted among dog-lovers, and she never, except in these two instances,\nswerved from the usual dignified indifference she extended to all who\nwere not admitted to the circle of her friends.\n\n\n\n\nXI\n\n\u201c_To snarl, and bite, and play the dog._\u201d\n\n\nThese words are typical of our master poet\u2019s attitude towards the dog.\nTreachery, cunning, and quarrelsomeness are the traits he dwells on\nwhen he mentions dogs, and we search his plays in vain for any trace\nof his appreciation of the noble gifts and heroic virtues that bind\nthe dog so closely to those who love him. At most we find such guarded\npraise as that given by Shallow in \u201cThe Merry Wives of Windsor,\u201d where\nhe says of Master Page\u2019s greyhound, \u201cSir, he\u2019s a good dog and a faire\ndog, can there be more said? He is good and faire.\u201d Or again, when one\nof the sporting dogs, who always receive the kindliest treatment at his\nhands, is made the means of a sarcastic thrust of comparison with one\nof a higher species. This occurs in the \u201cTwo Gentlemen of Verona,\u201d when\nLaunce declares in praise of his mistress, \u201cShe hath more qualities\nthan a water-spaniel, which is much in a bare Christian.\u201d\n\nWe can but feel that a poet who could paint the most delicate shades\nof moral feeling, with the same master hand that plumbs the darkest\ndepths of the human heart, might have done what no other writer of any\ntime could do for us in the delineation of the dog\u2019s mind, if only\nhe had brought his sympathetic interest to bear on it. But a dog for\nShakespeare was only one of the lower animals, whose evil qualities\noutweighed his better gifts, and who was at most an uncertain, if not a\nquestionable companion.\n\nThe story of the bet made between Lord Nugent and Sir Henry Holland[7]\nshows how difficult it has always been to believe in the limitations\nof the poet in this respect. Lord Nugent, who was recognised as the\ngreatest Shakespearean scholar of his day, declared that throughout\nShakespeare\u2019s writings no passage could be found \u201ccommending directly\nor indirectly the moral qualities of the dog.\u201d Sir Henry Holland\ndemurred to the statement, but after a year\u2019s search was fain to\nacknowledge its truth, and to pay the bet of a guinea which he had\nbeen confident of winning. In all our reverence for and delight in\nShakespeare, we feel that his want of appreciation of the dog is one of\nthose weak spots in the armour of genius that shows its possessors to\nbe, after all, but of the same clay as ourselves.\n\nYet there are dark spots in the histories of our favourites, though\nin many cases these are attributable to defects in early training, or\nto harsh treatment. Some too are caused by illness, or by abnormal\nconditions of brain and nerve, of which we can only guess the existence.\n\nMy own household was once the scene of a terrible act of vengeance by\na bulldog, who is said to have the unamiable trait of nursing injuries\nfor a long time. Lion was confided to me by a friend, and remained\nwith me for some three months. He was gentle and friendly with me\nfrom the first, and was on good terms with my other dogs--I then had\na Skye and a Basset hound--and with every one in the house. As he had\nbeen used to sleeping indoors, he continued to do so, and never showed\nthe slightest ill temper with any one. My cook was devoted to all the\ndogs, and as she fed them and often played with them in the garden,\nthey were on the best of terms with her. She was very good tempered,\nand could be trusted implicitly to be kind to them. She could never,\nhowever, be made to see that it was unwise to play with the dogs when\nthey were busy with a bone, and was rather proud of the fact that they\nwould never resent it if she teased them by taking their bone from\nthem and throwing it to a distance, or otherwise interfering with\ntheir enjoyment. Lion seemed of such a gentle nature, in spite of his\nferocious appearance, that I had no special fear with regard to him,\nthough I often told Mason that I wished the dogs to be left severely\nalone, to the enjoyment of their daily treat.\n\nOne evening when I returned home, I heard that Lion had been growling\nat the cook, and having taken up a position outside the kitchen door,\nhe refused to allow her to pass him. I went into my study and called\nthe dog by name, and he immediately trotted round the house and came in\nat the glass doors. He came up to me for his usual caress after I had\nbeen away, but I saw that his eyes were red, and had a fierce light in\nthem that I had never seen a trace of before. I noticed, too, that he\nregarded my friend, who had come in with me, with such an unfriendly\nlook, that I exclaimed, \u201cHelen, I think you had better leave me alone\nwith him.\u201d This, however, my friend refused to do, as she thought Lion\nmeant mischief.\n\nI was on the point of telling the dog to come with me into the garden,\nwhen I saw the cook cross the lawn to fetch something from the kitchen\ngarden, which Lion\u2019s hostile demeanour had prevented her from doing\nearlier. I exclaimed, \u201cHow foolish of Mason not to keep away,\u201d and the\nwords were not out of my mouth, when Lion caught sight of her, and the\nheavy brindled form at my feet shot through the air silently from the\nstudy steps. To my horror, the next second I saw him hanging by his\nteeth to the upper part of Mason\u2019s arm. The small, slight form of the\ncook tottered, and then fell on to the grass, and the deadly teeth\nwere so near her throat that I trembled lest she should be killed. Not\na sound marred the peaceful stillness of that summer evening, but the\nhorror of the silent tragedy I shall never forget. Calling to my friend\nto get assistance I rushed into the garden, while Mason\u2019s terror lent\nher strength to struggle to her feet, and stagger towards me, with\nthe enormous brute still hanging to her arm. Lion\u2019s eyes glared, and\nmy terror was increased as I thought that he had gone mad. He had no\ncollar on, and my efforts to choke him off were quite ineffectual. As I\nstruggled with him, I remember wondering where he would seize me when\nhe left his hold of cook, for I knew I had not strength to hold him.\n\nThe moments seemed hours as they passed. Again Mason fell, and once\nmore staggered up, but nothing slackened the deadly grip in which she\nwas held. Happily she did not faint, and the brute did not attack her\nthroat. Would no one ever come to our assistance? Just as a hum of\nvoices told me that help was at hand, Lion\u2019s teeth relaxed, he fell\nfrom his terrible perch, and to my infinite relief he walked away and\nlay down, without taking any further notice of either of us.\n\nThe poor sufferer was very plucky, but after first aid had been\nrendered, it was found necessary to take her to a hospital where she\ncould have the best advice and nursing that could be given her. Slowly\nshe got over the shock, and struggled back to health and the use of her\narm, and at the end of two months a visit to the seaside quite set her\nup, and she was able to return to me.\n\nLion, of course, was no longer in the house. He had been left in\npossession of the garden, while Mason was being attended to, and it\nwas not till past midnight that I was free to think about him. In the\nmeantime, his master had been summoned, and before venturing into the\ngarden we examined Lion\u2019s appearance with a strong light from the\nkitchen window. There was no trace of excitement about him, and he\nseemed to have recovered his normal calm. He wagged his tail when he\nwas spoken to, and came up under the window when called. I had sternly\nrefused the offer to kill him, made by those who had come to my help in\nthe first instance, as I felt I must know if the poor cook was at least\nsafe from the horrors that might have followed Lion\u2019s mauling, if he\nproved to be mad.\n\nAt the midnight conference held over him we decided to shut him into\na stable, and keep him under supervision till we could be sure on\nthis point. As there was likely to be trouble with the stable door,\nof which a decrepit lock often defied the best efforts of those who\ndid not understand its eccentricities, I insisted on going to open it,\nwhile the dog\u2019s master kept his attention on the culprit. Lion came\nup to us quietly when we went out, and allowed his master to pat him,\nbut the weird horror of that short walk in the dead of night, with the\npattering feet behind me, is a thing not to be forgotten. Would one\nof those deadly springs suddenly overpower us? But the tragedies of\nthe day were over, and Lion in the course of a few days found a new\nmaster, who was undismayed by the gruesome record of his misdeeds, with\nwhich he was made fully acquainted. His new owner found him gentle and\naffectionate, as I had done, but he watched him carefully, and some\nfifteen months later, when he thought he saw signs of excitement about\nhim, I believe Lion\u2019s life came to an end.\n\nWhether some playful teasing had roused Lion\u2019s anger against his friend\nthe cook, and thus led to his terrible act of vengeance, I never knew.\nMason always declared she had done nothing but play with him and the\nother dogs, as she always did when she was free in the afternoon. To\nall my questions as to whether she had taken a bone from him, I could\nget nothing but an assurance that she had been very careful since I\nhad warned her, and thus no direct explanation of the disaster was\never forthcoming. I inquired diligently for details of Lion\u2019s earlier\nlife; but here again I could learn nothing of any value. He had changed\nhands frequently, and the experiences of his early days were shrouded\nin obscurity. I may admit that I have never since then had anything to\ndo with bulldogs, and that among dogs, the bulldog is the only one I\ncannot regard with favour. The terrors of my experience with Lion have\nprejudiced me against all others of his kind.\n\nJealousy is often shown by dogs, but when this comes from the strength\nof their affections, which can brook no rival in their owner\u2019s hearts,\nis it to be counted among their bad qualities? We must here take into\naccount the comparatively low standard of the dog\u2019s moral development,\nin the answer we give. Certain it is, that in the crimes to which\njealousy often leads dogs, a sense of shame for the misdemeanour into\nwhich the force of their feelings has hurried them is almost always\nshown.\n\nA clear instance of this was given by a Skye terrier, the object of\nwhose dislike was a kitten. The Skye\u2019s master was a man who possessed\nthat strange power over animals that is only given to the few even\namong those who love them. He was, too, a scrupulously truthful person,\nand neither particularly imaginative nor of a philosophical turn of\nmind, so that any story that came from his lips is worthy of credence.\nBuzz, the Skye, was for a long time the only indoor pet in this\nhousehold. Then a kitten was introduced by the mistress, and Buzz\u2019s\nmaster took some notice of the new arrival. Buzz, though a perfect\nlittle gentleman in his behaviour to the kitten, showed every sign of\nbeing distressed by her presence. He would creep away under cover of\nthe furniture and was generally very depressed, but as he never showed\nthe least inclination to touch the kitten, it was thought he would soon\nbe reconciled to her.\n\nOne day the kitten disappeared, and all search for it was unavailing.\nIt was noticed that Buzz seemed more dejected than ever, instead of\nrejoicing at her departure. On the following morning, when the master\nof the house went out for his smoke and stroll round the garden after\nbreakfast, Buzz went with him as usual. Instead of displaying his\naccustomed vivacity, however, he attracted attention by the depressed\nfashion in which he crawled along at his master\u2019s side. At last he\nshowed signs of interest, and made his master understand that he wanted\nhim to follow him. He then led the way to a rose bush, and flinging\nhimself impetuously on the bed, poor Buzz began to dig, looking up from\ntime to time to make sure that his master was close beside him. At last\nthe dead body of the kitten came to light. Buzz then left his work,\nand rolling over on his back, waved four fat paws in the air, in the\nfascinating way these terriers generally ask for pardon.\n\nIt was concluded that Buzz had killed the kitten and hidden the sign of\nhis crime, and his conduct gave ground for the conviction. It might be,\nhowever, that the little intruder had been the victim of an accident,\nand that a servant was responsible both for that and the burial, but\nin any case the dog showed plainly that he knew what had happened,\nand could not rest till he had told his master. The simple action of\nasking pardon when he discovered the body seemed to point to his having\nhad a share in the tragedy. Who shall say that the sense of shame Buzz\nshowed at his own or another\u2019s misdeed was not a clear evidence of the\nmoral sense that is the guide of our own actions?\n\nAnother and more remarkable instance of the effects of jealousy on\na dog, I will take from that mine of good stories contained in Miss\nSerrell\u2019s book.[8] Whankey, the hero of the story, was a black and tan\nwire-haired terrier, a dog of such beauty that she was pronounced to\nbe faultless in make and shape. She was too of a singularly engaging\nand affectionate disposition. To her mistress her attachment was very\ngreat, and as Miss Serrell says, \u201cShe could never tolerate anything for\nwhich I showed affection.\u201d\n\n\u201cAt one time,\u201d the narrator goes on, \u201cI kept a large head of poultry\nwhich Whankey looked on with great disdain. She would never go near\nthem, and her anger knew no bounds when once, being pressed for room, I\nhad a trip of young game chicks brought up and cooped on the lawn.\u201d\n\n\u201cAll went well for a time, Whankey affecting to ignore their presence.\nOne very precocious young cockerel, however, soon took to leaving\nthe others and marching up the steps of the verandah in front of the\ndrawing room windows. One day he ventured to come close and look into\nthe room, when Whankey was instantly on the alert and growled angrily\nat the intrusion. Growing bolder as he came to know the verandah\nbetter, the cockerel at last walked through the window into the room\nwhere I was sitting at the time. Whankey showed such anger at his\naudacity that I was glad to throw the bird some crumbs and get him back\non to the lawn, and as Whankey then quieted down no more was thought\nabout the matter.\n\n\u201cThe following day, when I returned from a drive, I found Whankey in\nher usual place in the drawing room with the window open, and noticing\nsome earth on her nose and paws, I said to her, \u2018What have you been\nburying, Whankey?\u2019 On this, instead of greeting me, she got up and\nwalked out of the room. In the evening when the chicks were penned in\ntheir coop there was a hue and cry; one was missing, and this turned\nout to be the little pert cockerel. A few days afterwards his body\nwas found buried under the shrubs at the far end of the garden, and\nof course there were all sorts of conjectures as to the manner of his\ndeath. Some were of opinion that a stray cat had done it, but the\nmystery was not cleared up till many months later....\n\n\u201cThe following spring I had seven dark-coloured ducklings brought\nup from the farm and put on the lawn, together with five very nice\nwhite ones, which, as they were about the same age as mine, I bought\nto go with them. I had the white ones wired in when they were first\nbrought home till they should get accustomed to their quarters, and\nevery day after luncheon I used to take some scraps out and feed them.\nThis proceeding excited Whankey\u2019s jealousy to the highest pitch, and\nshe used to walk round the wire with her bristles up, and growling\nsavagely. One Sunday morning before I started for church I opened\nthe wire and left all the ducks to run about together, and Whankey\nwas as usual in the drawing room with the window open. On my return\na tragic tale was unfolded. The gardener had met Whankey carrying a\ndead white duckling in her mouth, and he had watched her go with it\nto the asparagus bed, lay it down, and proceed to dig a hole. The\ngardener picked up the duck and brought it into the house, and Whankey\nimmediately went indoors and ensconced herself in my bedroom. I went\nto the lawn to see what had happened, and there found the seven dark\nducklings all huddled together and looking very frightened, and not a\nwhite one to be seen. Further search showed that all the latter had\nbeen killed and buried in different parts of the asparagus bed, and\nthere was no doubt but that Whankey was the culprit, not only in the\nmatter of the ducklings, but in that of the cockerel the year before.\u201d\n\nThe extraordinary thing about this performance was, as Miss Serrell\npoints out, that the terrier picked out only those ducklings of which\nher mistress had taken special notice in order to reconcile them to\ntheir new home. She must have killed each of the detested rivals\nseparately, and then carried the body a considerable distance from the\nfront lawn to the middle of the kitchen garden, and there concealed\nthe evidence of the crime. In fact, it was clear that Whankey had had\nan active morning\u2019s work before her mistress returned from church,\nand that the little brain had not been idle was proved by the perfectly\nplanned scheme of vengeance.\n\n[Illustration: A SUNDAY MORNING WORK\n\nWHANKEY]\n\nWhankey did not show any touching sorrow for her crime, and perhaps\nconsidered that the end of clearing rivals from her path justified the\nmeans she used. In fact, she could not be considered as a repentant\nsinner, though she never liked to hear her exploit alluded to. If any\none said to her, \u201cWhankey, where are the white ducks?\u201d she \u201cwould\nalways get up and walk away growling.\u201d\n\nThe growls would seem to show an unrepentant frame of mind to the\nend. She wished the subject to be forgotten, but the cockerel and the\nducklings were beyond the power of annoying her. The price we are\ncontent to pay for a great relief is sometimes a large one.\n\n\n\n\nXII\n\n  \u201c_For know that in the soul\n  Are many lesser faculties that serve\n  Reason as chief. Among these, Fancy next\n  His office holds. Of all external things,\n  Which the five watchful senses represent,\n  He forms imaginations, airy shapes;\n  Which Reason joining or disjoining, forms\n  All that we affirm, or what deny,\n  And call our knowledge._\u201d\n\n\nWhile a dog is clearly incapable of any appreciation of a picture as\na work of art, the presentment of a man or animal will appeal to him\nas that of a solid figure. Here we are brought face to face with the\nlimitations of the dog\u2019s mind that is unable to follow our own powers\non to the higher planes of their development. Yet that he is far from\nbeing devoid of imagination, his behaviour when he is brought face\nto face with his own reflection in a looking-glass will show. My own\nSkye was clearly puzzled when as a young dog he first saw himself in a\nlooking-glass that was let into the door of a sideboard. He sat down\nand gazed earnestly at the quaint little face looking at him from the\nglass. Then he got up and moved nearer, wagging his tail in pleasure\nat meeting with a companion of whose appearance he seemed to approve.\nBounding a little to one side he showed that he was ready for a game,\nand waited for the other to come and join in the fun. When no response\ncame to his invitation his tail dropped, and at a little distance he\nsat down again and renewed his attentive survey of the figure facing\nhim. A sense of something that he could not fathom apparently oppressed\nhim, and presently he got up and came and lay down at my feet, sure\nthat no unknown danger would be allowed to follow him there. He made\nmany attempts during the next few days to persuade the unresponsive\nlittle dog to come and share his play, and as the reflection of his\nmoving form confronted him, he would give a joyous bark at having at\nlast roused the other into life. But with all his efforts he could\nnot find the barking, jumping little figure, and at last one of his\nrushes brought his nose in sharp contact with the glass. This evidently\ngave him a shock, and after drawing back for a moment and scanning\nthe strange thing curiously, he advanced, and putting out his tongue\ntouched the glass with its tip. Now there was no doubt that something\nuncanny was before him, and with every manifestation of terror he fled\nto me for protection. He avoided the glass in future, and if put down\nin front of it would refuse to look at it, and would shrink away,\nfrightened, from the thing he could not understand.\n\nWith her King Charles, a friend had a similar experience. In this case\nthe dog discovered his reflection in a long cheval glass on the floor\nof his mistress\u2019s bedroom. For some time he gambolled about in front\nof it, but at last, wanting to find the dog who refused to come out to\nhim, he ran behind the glass to see where he was. Finding a blank space\nwhere his senses told him the waiting figure ought to be, his whole\ndemeanour changed. He was frightened, and all his eagerness for play\nleaving him, he became limp and depressed and went to his mistress for\nprotection. Nothing would ever induce him to look into a glass again,\nand even in the safe shelter of his owner\u2019s arms he would cower down\nand hide his face against her shoulder when he was invited to admire\nhis own reflection.\n\nIn the same way, as soon as a dog has discovered that a picture is\nreally a flat surface, and that the figure he sees there has no solid\nform, the thing loses all attraction for him. When an excellent\npainting of the master of the house was brought home, where a poodle\nand a collie were the household pets, both dogs recognised it at once.\nThey jumped about in great excitement, and invited their owner to take\nthem for the walk they always associated with his appearance among\nthem from his study. When no response came, and they were not allowed\nto jump up with the usual marks of excitement, the picture had no more\ninterest for them than a scented soap plum has after the first taste\nfor an inquiring child.\n\nIn a house where a Blenheim spaniel lived, she could not bear to be\ntaken into the dining room where the walls were hung round with family\npictures. Some of these ancestral portraits were of stern appearance,\nand for one of them the children of the house had a great dread,\nsaying that its eyes followed them about the room. When the spaniel\nwas some eight or nine months old she first made acquaintance with the\nportraits. She showed every symptom of terror as she gazed at them,\nand singled out the children\u2019s special dread for her fiercest growls of\ndisapproval.\n\nWhether an unusual degree of imagination, or a love of fun pure and\nsimple, was the cause of very unusual conduct in a bull-terrier, I\nwill leave others to decide. Possibly both imagination and a fondness\nof practical jokes were at the root of this strange creature\u2019s love\nof dressing up. Such a trait is not unusual in poodles, who have a\nspecial aptitude for tricks of all kinds, but I have never heard of\nanother bull-terrier with the same taste. This dog delighted in showing\noff, and the greater the laughter he excited, the better pleased he\nwas with his performance. His favourite articles of attire were a\nbonnet and cloak, under which his grim face and broad shoulders were\nvery effective. During one of his exhibitions to a group of admiring\nfriends, whose laughter came as a pleasing evidence of success, he\nsuddenly saw a strange dog strolling over his private grounds. With\na fierce growl he sprang after the intruder. The latter, hearing the\ngrowl, turned in the direction from whence it came, but the strange\nsight that met his gaze was too much for his nerves. What could this\nlarge bonnet and fluttering cape over the little flying legs mean?\nWith a howl of terror the stranger fled, and the terrier returned\ncomplacently to take up his performance at the point at which it had\nbroken off.\n\nA strange mixture of imaginative power and common sense was the\ndistinguishing mark of a Blenheim spaniel, named Sylvia. In birth and\nappearance Sylvia was an undoubted aristocrat, and in character she was\nhaughty to the verge of snobbishness. From her early youth she showed a\ndetestation of poverty in any form. She would never go into a cottage\nif she could help it, and her family declared that she showed much\ngreater pleasure in starting for a drive in a brougham or Victoria than\nin a humbler pony cart.\n\nSylvia had a strong will in her fascinating, tiny form. If she did not\nunderstand the reason of an order given to her, she would oppose it\nwith all her strength. So excited would she become, if the attempt to\nexact obedience was persisted in, that it seemed as if a fit would be\nthe consequence of perseverance in correction, and the little culprit\nusually had her own way. But she was not a disobedient dog on the\nwhole. It was only when the meaning of the correction was not clear to\nher that she would die rather than give in to it. The easiest available\nmeans of punishment for such acts of insubordination was to shut her\nup in the travelling basket, in which she had arrived at her new home,\ntill she had recovered her normal state.\n\nWhen a journey with her mistress was in prospect, the latter regretted\nthe use to which the travelling basket had been put. The probable\neffect on Sylvia of attempting to put her in, when no disciplinary\neffort was needed, was discussed in the family, and when the time came\nfor the attempt to be made, her mistress gave herself a clear hour for\nthe coming struggle.\n\nThe basket was brought out and stood in the big dark panelled hall,\nand in low spirits her mistress called Sylvia to her side. But Sylvia\nhad realised that it would not do to run the risk of being left behind,\nso throwing aside all past associations with the basket as a place of\ncorrection, she disconcerted her mistress by running up and jumping\nstraight into it. Even then she wished to see the arrangements for\nher departure complete, and would not be satisfied till the lid was\nfastened down and she was left safely secured till the time of the\nstart arrived. It was not for a little dog possessed of common sense to\nindulge in tantrums, when such unknown joys were at stake.\n\nWhen travelling, Sylvia showed a similar self-restraint and\nappreciation of the situation of the moment. She would be taken out of\nher basket, and allowed to roam the railway carriage or amuse herself\nat the window. But it was only necessary for her mistress to whisper\nto her, \u201cIt is the next station, Sylvie,\u201d and she would instantly\njump into her own special travelling carriage, so as to be ready to\naccompany her party when they left the train. So effective was the\nbehaviour of this little red and white silken coated beauty that\nstrangers were much impressed by her sweetness and intelligence. A\nfellow traveller once said to Sylvia\u2019s mistress that he would willingly\ngive twenty pounds down for so sweet-tempered a dog, as he wanted her\nto console a little Blenheim widower that he had at home. The bereaved\none went every day to howl at the grave of his lost love, but such a\nvision of beauty and amiability as Sylvia could not fail to comfort\nhim. As the latter\u2019s mistress refused the offer, she had visions of\nher \u201csweet\u201d dog bustling and snapping at the little widower, till\nshe had reduced him to the state of submission her imperious nature\ndemanded from her associates.\n\nSylvia was taught many of the usual tricks in her young days, but\nshe was by no means ready to show off whenever she was wanted to. If\nher mistress called on her for a performance, which the little thing\nforesaw might be a longer one than she felt ready for, she would dash\nup when called, throw herself down, and do \u201cdead dog\u201d for a second,\njump up and thrust first one paw and then the other into her owner\u2019s\nhand, stand for a passing moment in trust attitude, then snap up an\nimaginary biscuit and run away. After this no further calls could be\nmade on her complaisance by sensible folk.\n\nIn later life Sylvia turned instructor to her adoring family. She\ndevised a trick of her own for their benefit. When she wanted anything\nto be done for her she lay down in a conspicuous position and did \u201cdead\ndog.\u201d It was for her friends to find out what she required. One thing\nafter another was suggested, but there was no movement from the little\nwaiting form, till at last the right guess was made. Then Sylvia sprang\nto her feet with a shrill bark, and demanded the instant carrying out\nof the suggestion.\n\nThere was a strain of sentiment in Sylvia that showed itself in a\npassionate affection for all young things. Babies, children, and even\nyoung hares were equal objects of adoration to her. Though all the\nearly part of her life was passed in the country, Sylvia took to town\npleasures as if born to them. The tiny thing often went to concerts\nand other entertainments safely perched in her mistress\u2019s arms. She\nnever broke the rules of the strictest decorum. No bark or fussiness\ndisturbed the even calm of her manner, or the haughty indifference\nshe showed to the presence of strangers. Her special delight was to\nbe taken to one of the large confectioners, when tea was in question\nfor her friends. Here, seated on a chair at one of the small tables,\nSylvia\u2019s eyes shone with delight when a sponge cake was put in front\nof her, and she proceeded to make her own dainty meal in a way that\nwas sure to give her the respectful admiration and attention her soul\nloved. On the occasions when she was left at home, the maids declared\nthat Sylvia would not take her milk unless it was brought to her in the\ndrawing room.\n\nThe extremity of passion into which Sylvia would throw herself on\noccasions was counterbalanced by a surprising tenderness for, and\ncomprehension of, sickness or suffering in any form among her special\nfriends. No dog could be more fascinating in the gentle sympathy she\ndisplayed than the little Blenheim. Her eyes had a wealth of tenderness\nin them, while with the daintiest caresses she made her little efforts\nat consolation. When the health of her mistress\u2019s mother was failing,\nshe singled her out for special attentions. One of the ways in which\nshe showed her affection for the invalid was very charming. Taking up a\nposition at her feet, Sylvia would hold her feathery little paws firmly\nin front of her, and wait to be asked to \u201cgive a paw.\u201d To some the\ninvitation would be refused, while others had one paw daintily extended\nto them, her own mistress coming in for no more attention at this time\nthan any one else. But directly the invalid asked gently for the favour\nshe would thrust both paws into her hand with an effusion of manner\nthat never failed to give pleasure to the sufferer.\n\nBut such soft moments only came to lighten the contrast of her ordinary\ndemeanour. To the end of her life she was passionate and headstrong,\nand in her care of her mistress she was stern and unbending. I have\nhad more than one mark of resentment from her, when I unwarily came\nup to take leave of her owner while she had Sylvia in her arms. Her\nmistress might not be touched in her presence, and to the rule Sylvia\nmade no exception. In illness she was almost impossible to manage, for\nshe would fight against remedies like a wild animal. When an injury to\nher leg required the attention of the veterinary surgeon, her doctor\nnever escaped from a dressing of the wounded member without at least\none bite to remind him of the occasion. There is no doubt that Sylvia\u2019s\ngreat personal beauty carried her over many rough places, where a less\nfavoured dog would have come to grief.\n\n\n\n\nXIII\n\n\u201c_A dog is the only thing on this earth that loves you more than he\nloves himself._\u201d\n\n\nAmong the higher gifts of the dog that culminate in the devotion to his\nowner that is an adumbration of the religious sense in ourselves, the\ndiscrimination between right and wrong takes an important place. If\nthe dog succumbs to sudden temptation it does not need an expression\nof anger or even the presence of his owner to make him feel shame at\nhis lapse from virtue. Those who can have no fear of harsh or hasty\ncorrection will show it to the full as much as others to whom the\nunconsidered blow is one of the daily experiences of their life. While\nthe effects of past training must of course account for much in the\ndog\u2019s attitude, it is not possible that in the unusual circumstance or\nunforeseen emergency that has put the dog in the way of temptation,\nsuch training can be the only cause of the moral sense he shows. It is\nbecause he has failed in the performance of one of the simple virtues\nthat bound his knowledge of ethics that he feels shame for his failure.\n\nI was much struck with a sense of right and wrong _as such_ that a\nwire-haired fox-terrier, named Bosky, showed. This little dog is a\ncharming pet, gentle, affectionate, and dainty in her ways, but not\neven by her best friends can she be said to shine in intelligence. Her\nbeautiful form and her show points have indeed been secured by much\ninbreeding, and it is to this that Bosky owes a nervous temperament\nthat entirely unfits her for any of the rougher give and take of\nlife. If a cat even looks at her round a corner she is paralyzed with\nfright, and if she comes across one at closer quarters she will scream\nherself almost into a fit with terror. Even in her home, where she is\na favourite with all the household, Bosky will never leave the safe\nshelter of her mistress\u2019s room, whenever the latter is absent. If any\none comes in at the front door while her owner is out, a little white\nhead will be seen peeping through the railing halfway down the stairs,\nbut unless Bosky is sure her mistress is there she will go no further,\nand will fly back to her usual shelter if any one comes up to speak to\nher.\n\nYet this little dog, whose brain power is of the smallest, has a clear\nidea of right and wrong. It is the custom of the maid to take a cup of\nBenger\u2019s food to her mistress\u2019s bedroom after the latter has gone up to\nbed. Bosky, who by that time is already in the place where she passes\nthe night, always has a few spoonfuls given her in the saucer as soon\nas her mistress has finished. One day when I was staying in the house,\nmy hostess came with me to my room and stayed talking for some time. In\nthe meantime the maid had put the cup in her room as usual, and then\ngone away. When my friend was leaving me, a startled scream from Bosky\nechoed through the silent house as soon as my bedroom door was opened.\nThe little thing had been lying on the mat outside, and directly her\nmistress appeared she opened her lips with a cry of terror, and fled\ndownstairs into the darkness of the front hall.\n\n[Illustration: BOSKY]\n\nWhen her mistress entered her room she saw what had happened. The\ntempting cup had been standing on a table beside the bed. Its contents\nhad long since grown cold, and Bosky had taken her share from the top\nof the cup instead of waiting for her usual portion. But repentance\nhad followed swiftly on the crime, and she fled from the room and took\nup her station at my door, to put herself out of reach of further\ntemptation. The most striking point about her conduct was that, though\nnothing but a few words of reproach came as a punishment for her theft,\nBosky would never again be left alone in the room with the cup of\nBenger. She generally came with her mistress into my room; but if she\nhad gone straight to bed when we came upstairs, she would always jump\nup when the maid came in with the cup, and take refuge by my door.\n\nSuch conduct seems to show, as I have said, an appreciation of\nwrong-doing as being contrary to the line of conduct that ought to\nbe followed. For, though in this particular case the dog could not\nhave feared punishment at the hands of her mistress, she yet showed\nundoubted terror at her theft being found out. It is hard to know what\nthought could have been present in her mind. When we see a little\nstreet Arab instinctively lift his arm across his face to ward off a\npossible blow at any unexpected or sudden word from a stranger, the\naction tells us a pitiful tale of the child\u2019s experience. But if in the\ndog there is no such individual experience to cause his fright, may\nnot the sense of impending misfortune following a lapse from virtue\nbe an instance of tribal memory? In the history of his forbears,\npunishment has followed swiftly on wrong-doing. Has it become an\ninstinct of the race that this should be so?\n\nEven this, however, does not explain the sense of wrong-doing that is\nat the root of his conduct. In the case of the terrier, she might well\nhave looked on a portion of her mistress\u2019s food as being her right; for\nshe knew she had it given to her unfailingly. Yet she recognised that\nshe might not take it herself, and the enjoyment of the coveted dainty\nwas soon clouded by a sense of guilt.\n\nFrom my own point of view, and with a full recognition of the part\nthat training and tribal memory may play in the ordering of the\ndog\u2019s conduct, I think that such an instance shows the dawning of a\nmoral sense that gives the dog the very highest claims to humane and\nconsiderate treatment at our hands. Although to some this will appear\ntoo high a line to take, we can but feel that whatever the solution may\nbe, it brings us face to face with something in the dog\u2019s mind that\ncauses him to act in a manner altogether worthy of a human.\n\nAnd when we turn to the passionate devotion a dog is capable of, we\nagain find things that are hard to fathom. The most striking case, in\nsome ways, that I have met with is that of a clever little cross-bred\nterrier. This little dog, Jimmy by name, belonged to one of the\ndaughters of the house, where the father was a confirmed invalid\nand the mother in delicate health. The latter took little notice of\nthe dog, though she was kind and gentle to him, as she was to all\nanimals. When the master of the house died suddenly his widow was\nquite broken down with grief, and nothing that her daughters or her\nmedical attendant could do would rouse her from the state of collapse\ninto which she fell. In her fragile state it seemed that the shock\nwould kill her. But Jimmy was struck by her suffering, and he showed\nsuch passionate distress at her misery that the gentle sufferer gained\nself-control as she strove to comfort him.\n\nFrom that time, during the remaining years of her life, Jimmy never\nleft her. He would even turn on his mistress if she offered to remove\nhim from her mother\u2019s side. When his chosen friend was confined to her\nbed, as she often was for weeks at a time, Jimmy would not be separated\nfrom her, and if he found the bedroom door shut against him, he would\nfling himself against it and beat it with his paws in a fury, till it\nwas opened. Then, after only one day when the invalid was not able to\ntake her usual place in her family circle, she died, and Jimmy seemed\ninstantly to recognise what had happened. He was still faithful to his\nvisits to her room in the days that followed, but instead of demanding\nadmittance he would lie down and quietly wait to be let in. When he was\nadmitted there was no mad rush to the bed, but he crept in and took\nhis place with the watchers beside the coffin. What happened during\nthose silent watches, I must give in the simple words of Jimmy\u2019s\nmistress. \u201cAs I used to sit with Jimmy on my knee in the darkened room,\nhe seemed to be following something I could not see with wistful eyes.\nNaturally you will think it was a fly on the wall, or some such thing\nthat Jimmy\u2019s gaze was following. But I assure you, I tried every test\nI could think of, and there was nothing. Yet the awe-stricken look in\nJimmy\u2019s eyes as they gazed out over the room, I can never forget. How\nmuch I would have given to see what he saw!\u201d\n\nWhat made Jimmy\u2019s conduct the more remarkable was that he had never\nbefore been known to keep quiet for any length of time together. He was\nan active, excitable little dog, full of strength and movement, and\ngiving play to his enjoyment of life with noisy exuberance of spirits.\nBut after the death of his chosen friend he fretted silently and with\nsuch faithful memory that his mistress at one time feared she would\nlose him. In time, however, he turned to her for consolation, and the\nloving care that had always been his was now intensified by the memory\nof his love for one whom his owner mourned deeply.[9]\n\n[Illustration: JIMMY]\n\nThe following instance of a dog\u2019s devotion I take from the charming\nappreciation of the late Lord Lytton that has recently been brought\nout by his daughter, Lady Betty Balfour.[10] The charm of the story,\nas told by the dog\u2019s master, is the cause of my breaking through the\nrule I have followed in this book, of only giving anecdotes that I have\ncollected at first hand.\n\nThe hero of the story was a Pyrenean dog named Goblin, who was Lord\nLytton\u2019s constant companion during the last years of his life. Only a\nfew months before our ambassador died at his post in Paris, he took\na short holiday on the seacoast of the North of France. With him, of\ncourse, went Goblin, and his master, in a letter to a friend, gives the\nfollowing account of an incident that touched him deeply.\n\n\u201cI must tell you that Goblin has an invincible dread and horror of\nwater. Never yet have I been able, by any persuasion or threat, to\ninduce him to dip his paw into lake or river, sea or pond. Well\nyesterday, as soon as I got here, I went to take a bath in the sea,\nand I took Goblin with me. As the bathing place is just in front of\nthe hotel, I made sure when I got into the sea he would either find\nhis way home or else wait for me on the beach, and I did not concern\nmyself about him. The tide was flowing in, and I was therefore able to\nswim out some distance from shore without risk of being drifted too far\nby the tide. When I was already a good way out and had just turned my\nface landwards to swim back, imagine my surprise to perceive that the\nfaithful beast was swimming out to me in a very fussy, floppy style.\nHe, too, was already some way from shore, but he made slow progress\nagainst the waves, though his poor little paws beat them with desperate\nrapidity. He was panting and snorting loudly, and there was a look of\nunutterable anguish in his yellow eyes, which were all the while fixed\nsteadily on me. He had evidently fancied I was going to be drowned,\nand that it was his duty to save me or perish with me, or else that I\nwas meanly and cruelly abandoning him and at any risk he would not be\nleft behind. This moral agony had conquered his physical horror of the\nwater, as Aaron\u2019s rod swallowed up those of Pharaoh\u2019s magicians, and\naffection had cast out fear.\n\n\u201cNow, three weeks before leaving Paris, I had dreamt a bad dream which\nmade a great impression on me, and in my dream I had seen Goblin\ndrowned. Suddenly the thought rushed upon me that this bad dream was\nabout to be fulfilled, and I think that in that moment my own fears\nbecame greater than Goblin\u2019s. I made for him as fast as I could, took\nhim in my arms, and holding him before me like a baby, swam back with\nhim till we were in shallow water again.\n\n\u201cEver since he has been in tearing spirits, cocks his tail higher than\nbefore, and is evidently proud of his exploit, which appears to have\ngreatly raised him in his own opinion, as it has certainly done in\nmine; I believe he is persuaded that he saved my life. However, when\nI went to bathe again this morning, I took Todd, my valet, with me,\nand whether it was Todd\u2019s reassuring presence, or the certainty he had\nacquired from yesterday\u2019s experience, that I should presently return,\nI can\u2019t say. But this time nothing would induce Goblin to go after me\nagain into the water. Every time I called to him, or Todd urged or\ncoaxed him forward, he shook his head knowingly, as if to say \u2018No, no;\nI am not to be taken in a second time. I see through your tricks now!\u2019\u201d\n\nThe faithful dog, we read, \u201clong survived his master and was a beloved\nfriend to the family.\u201d\n\nNoble Goblin. He loved and enjoyed his life, but was ready to sacrifice\nit in his master\u2019s service, or to save himself from the deeper horror\nof long years to be spent without him.\n\nOnce again I break through my rule to give an old, old version of the\nstory that in modern form tells of the dying service of Gelert to his\nmaster. Who has not been touched by the simple recital of the dog\u2019s\ndevotion, that was so misjudged by man?\n\nIt is in the Folk Tales of the Himalayas[11] that we find the far-off\necho of Gelert\u2019s story, which still lives among the fireside legends of\nthe hill tribes of Northern India. These stories were, as Mrs. Dracott\ntells us, taken down as they were told to her by the Paharee women, and\nshe gives them as nearly as possible in the words of the narrators. The\ntemple built on the slopes of those far-off, snow-capped mountains,\nkeeps alive in the hearts of the simple village folk the history of a\ndog\u2019s fidelity that met with bitter injustice at the hands of his owner.\n\n\u201cAbout eleven miles from Raipur, near the village of Jagasar, is a\ntemple built to the memory of a faithful dog of the Bunjara species,\nand this is the story of how it came to be built.\n\n\u201cMany years ago a Bunjara Naik, or headman of the class of Bunjaras, or\nwandering traders, owed money to a \u2018Marwari,\u2019 or money-lender at Raipur.\n\n\u201cWhen pressed for payment, the Bunjara, who was then standing near\nthe Marwari\u2019s shop, said, \u2018Here is my gold necklace, and here is\nmy faithful dog; keep both till I return to my camping ground near\nJagasar, and fetch you the money.\u2019\n\n\u201cThe necklace and the dog were then left as security, and the man went\nhis way.\n\n\u201cThat night the Marwari\u2019s shop was broken into by thieves, and many\nvaluables stolen, among them the golden necklace; but before the\nthieves could get clear away with their stolen property, the dog got\nup and barked and leaped about, and made so much noise that the Marwari\nand his men got up, caught the thieves, and recovered the property,\nwhich was of considerable worth.\n\n\u201cThe Marwari was very pleased, and out of gratitude for what the dog\nhad done determined to cancel and forgive the debt of his master, the\nBunjara. So he wrote a paper to cancel it, tied it to the dog\u2019s neck,\nand let it go, saying, \u2018Carry the tidings to your owner.\u2019\n\n\u201cEarly next morning the dog trotted off, and was nearing the camping\nground which was his home, when the Bunjara saw him, and, very\ndispleased, he took a stick and struck the poor dog across the head,\nsaying, \u2018You brute, you could not remain even twenty-four hours with\nthe Marwari, though my honour was at stake.\u2019\n\n\u201cThe blow killed the dog on the spot, and as he fell the Bunjara\nnoticed the slip of paper round his neck, and on reading it found what\njoyful news his dog had brought to him. Not only was the debt forgiven,\nbut the reason for it was also stated on the paper.\n\n\u201cThe grief of the Bunjara was great, for in spite of his hasty temper\nhe loved his dog, as all Bunjaras do. He repented his hasty act, and\nwept most bitterly over his favourite, vowing that he would try and\nexpiate his deed by building a temple to the faithful dog\u2019s memory with\nthe money he had recovered.\n\n\u201cThe small temple now standing on the spot where this took place\ntestifies to the fulfilment of that vow, and a small dog carved in\nstone indicates why the Dog Temple was built.\n\n\u201cTo this day it is deeply revered by all the villagers around, and the\nstory of that faithful dog is often repeated to show how intelligent\nand true a dog can be.\u201d\n\nYes; faithful, true, loving to the death, understanding our moods and\nsorrows, and sympathetic in all the troubles as well as the joys of\nlife, the dog has proved himself to be. Shall not our recognition of\nhis many virtues be at least on a plane with the simple faith in his\npowers of heart and mind that the little hill temple is a witness to,\namong the untutored natives of the wild tribes of Northern India?\n\n\n\n\nXIV\n\n                          \u201c_Are we devils? Are we men?\n  Sweet St. Francis of Assisi, would that he were here again!\n  He that in his Catholic wholeness used to call the very flowers\n  Sisters, Brothers--and the beasts whose pains are hardly less than\n    ours._\u201d\n\n\nIf the foregoing studies of dog life make clear the right of a dog to\nbe treated as a being whose powers of mind are nearly akin to our own,\nhow should this affect our behaviour towards him? Not to pamper him,\nassuredly, and thus check the free exercise of his higher powers and\nqualities and encourage the selfishness and greed, the germs of which\nare to be found as well in canine as in human nature. The dog has his\nown place in the natural order of things, and our aim should be to give\nto the higher and better part of his nature the fullest development and\ntraining our powers enable us to do. When we hear of a lonely woman\nwhose sole friend was her dog taking her own life in despair at her\ncompanion being reft from her, and brought to an untimely end, we pity\nher in that her views of life had been warped and distorted by the\ndreary loneliness of her lot. But apart from such an extreme example\nof putting our faithful little friend on a platform to which he has no\nright, there are many who might take to heart with advantage, both to\nthemselves and to the animals under their care, the quaint indictment\nof an old writer: \u201cThese dogges are ... pretty, proper and fyne, and\nsought for to satisfie the delicatenesse of daintie dames\u2019 ... wills,\ninstruments of folly for them to play and dally withal, and tryfle away\nthe treasure of time, to withdraw their mindes from more commendable\nexercises and to content their corrupted concupiscences with vain\ndisport (a selly shift to shunne yrcksome ydlenesse).\u201d As the book from\nwhich these words are taken is said to be the earliest one on dogs\nwritten in the English language, it shows that it is no new thing with\nus for women to err on the side of foolish spoiling of the intelligent\ncreatures who are worthy of a better fate.\n\nIt is often asserted that animals as a body have no \u201crights,\u201d properly\nso called, that must be taken into consideration in our dealings with\nthem. Such a dictum, as it is often understood, I would combat with\nevery means in my power. But here there must be a clear understanding\nof what we mean by the word \u201crights.\u201d It cannot, I think, be better\nexpressed than in the following lines, written by a member of that\nbody who has been unjustly accused of not giving its support to the\nprotection of animals from cruel and unfair treatment: \u201cIt is true that\nthey [animals] have not human rights; but as there is in them a nature\ndemanding a treatment quite above that accorded to wood or iron, plants\nand shrubs (as St. Francis says), so it is reasonable to claim for them\nrights--animal rights.\u201d\n\nAnd what are the \u201canimal rights\u201d that the dog, as a fellow citizen\nof the animal world, can claim at our hands? Not the cramping\nrestrictions of excessive and foolish fondness, but a temperate and,\nabove all, humane appreciation of the fact that his span of life is\ngiven him from the same source as our own. Whence it comes and whither\nit goes are questions that all the science of the world, so far, can do\nno more than speculate upon. As Christians, the faith that is in us is\nnot shaken by the difficulties that confront us, when we think of the\nbeginning and end of our life on the earth; but we know that the gift\nof life carries with it grave responsibilities and duties, for the due\nperformance of which we are each personally accountable. But our duties\nand responsibilities towards our fellow men do not limit the ties that\nbind us. The same laws that govern our intercourse with our fellows\ngovern also, in their degree, our relations with the animal world.\n\nThe dog, who is brought nearer to us in the intimate relations of\nour home than any other animal except the cat, suffers most from any\nfailure of duty on our part. For the ordering of his whole life from\npuppyhood to old age, and from dawn to dark of each day as it comes, is\nsubject to the influence we bring to bear on it. If we fail to bring an\nintelligent comprehension of his wants and of his powers of mind and\nbody to act on the surroundings we give him, we lessen his joy in life,\nor bring untold suffering upon him, in proportion to our own failure in\nour duties towards him.\n\nWhat, then, can be said of those who bring wanton cruelty to bear\non the sensitive body and delicate mental organisation that make him\na trusted friend and companion of the human race? The dog-fights, of\nwhich I have spoken in an earlier part of the book, are now happily\nobjects of horror and disgust to all but the hopelessly brutal minded.\nBut much, I fear, still remains to be done in bringing the force of\nthe law to bear on those who offend in secret, and with but a partial\nrecognition of the enormities they perpetrate.\n\nOf the far worse horrors of vivisection I am not happily here called on\nto deal, with more than a passing notice. Whatever science may have to\nsay to excuse them, the scenes of the vivisecting room are too dark and\nhorror-striking to be reproduced for general reading. We know that some\neminent members of the medical profession have pronounced against their\nvalue to the spread of scientific knowledge. We may hope, then, that\nsuch pronouncement of undoubted authorities may have due and speedy\neffect in the general recognition of dogs and other animals to the\nright to be spared all unnecessary suffering.\n\nThe highest claim a dog possesses to the full recognition of his\nrights--animal rights--to consideration at our hands, is, from my point\nof view at least, his possession of the dawning of a moral sense. Such\na power of discrimination between right and wrong, and the consequent\nresults of a feeling of satisfaction and elation, or of shame and\nregret, as he gives way to behaviour that contravenes his sense of\nmoral rectitude, or in spite of temptation refuses to listen to the\nsuggestion of passion or appetite, is, or so it appears to me, proved\nabundantly by a sympathetic study of the dog\u2019s actions. A striking\ninstance of such conscious choice was shown by the little Bosky[12]\nwhen she first fell from the paths of honesty in the presence of a\ntempting dainty, then fled from the scene of her lapse from virtue and\nfrom her beloved mistress\u2019s presence; and still more when she refused\nto allow herself to be put in the way of temptation a second time. The\nSkye[13] showed unmistakable shame and sorrow when he brought to light\nthe kitten\u2019s dead body. The fox-terrier pups[14] in their Indian home\nhad an appreciation more or less clear of their infant enormities in\nthe matter of destroying their guardian\u2019s property, and every dog-lover\nfrom his own experience can recall some instance of the same nature.\n\nWe have seen that in the primitive tribal conditions of the dog\u2019s\nancestors, the sympathy, that is the foundation on which all community\nlife rests, must have been present in those members of the old-world\npacks, or the very existence of the tribes, as such, would have been\nimperilled. Sympathy with their fellows gave to each member of the\ntribe an appreciation of the needs of his fellow members as well as of\nhis own. Such needs must be respected and cared for, and in the simple\ngive and take of the rough life of the wandering packs, we find, I\nthink, the first faint foreshadowing of the moral sense that reaches\nits highest expression in the animal world, in our dog friend as he is\nto-day. In saying this I do not for a moment claim for our dog more\nthan the very simplest ideas of duty, as they appear to him in his\nrelations to his owner and to his fellow dogs, or other animals, for of\nthe conception of ethics in the abstract he is clearly incapable. To\nmake such a claim for him would be to place him on our own level in the\npossession of mental and moral gifts.\n\nThe simplest expression of the knowledge of right and wrong presupposes\nno inconsiderable power of memory and of reflection. Of both these I\nbelieve the dog to show himself capable. If he is not, no faintest\nadumbration of the moral sense can be his. For before any ethical\nappreciation can be shown there must be not merely the memory of a\npast event, but a power of reflection on the many converging lines\nof presentment to his mind, not only as these affect some person or\nthing outside himself, but as they impress his own consciousness.\nSuch an effort of mind, aided by his affections and other powers that\nmay be brought into play by the circumstances of the case, give to\nthe dog the sense of right or wrong-doing that he displays in his\nconsequent actions. In such simple manifestations of the moral sense,\nshame and the fear of detection, or on the other hand self-gratulation\nand elation, may be expected to play their part, though without\nobscuring the true ethical consciousness that lies at the root of\nthe expression of feeling. As the dog\u2019s mind knows no higher form of\ndevotion than that excited by his faulty owner, why should we quarrel\nwith the crude evidences of a moral feeling our presence excites in\nhim? Before we played the part of deity to him, he recognised his\nduties to his fellows, and in his own manner and degree lived up to\nthe responsibilities the circumstances of his life demanded. The\nfuller blossoming of the possibilities of life for him came with the\ncompanionship of man, and with us it lies to bring these to a full\nfruition, or to starve them into a premature blight.\n\nFrom the earliest times men who have taken a view of their\nresponsibilities that is not limited to their own kind, have lifted\ntheir voice with no uncertain sound to plead with their fellow men for\na more humane regard for animal life. In the dangerous exhibitions of\nthe Roman Circus it was men who risked their lives for the passing\ngratification of their fellows. These games were followed in a later\nage by the bull fights that still linger to the disgrace of the\ncivilised nations who enjoy them. In the old times St. Augustine,\nSt. Chrysostom, and others were eloquent in their denunciation of\nthe gladiatorial combats, and soon after the middle of the sixteenth\ncentury Pope Pius V forbade the faithful in any land to take part in or\nattend the bull baiting that was then a favourite form of amusement.\nThe Pope declared such exhibitions to be \u201ccontrary to Christian duty\nand charity,\u201d and if any in defiance of his command should lose their\nlives in contending with \u201cbulls or other beasts,\u201d they were to be\n\u201cdeprived of Christian burial.\u201d\n\nWe may be thankful that in later times such teaching has been given\nby the authorities of the Church in England, in America, and in every\nChristian country in the world. Among the Catholic dignitaries, who in\nour own country have taken a leading part in inculcating a due respect\nfor animal rights, Cardinal Manning came prominently forward. In one of\nhis many addresses on the subject, he says:--\n\n\u201cIt is perfectly true that ... the lower animals are not susceptible\nto those moral obligations which we owe to one another; but we owe a\nseven-fold obligation to the Creator of those animals. Our obligation\nand moral duty is to Him who made them, and if we wish to know the\nlimit of the broad outline of our obligation, I say at once it is _His_\nnature and His perfections, and among those perfections one is most\nprofoundly that of eternal mercy.... And, in giving a dominion over His\ncreatures to man, He gave it subject to the condition that it should be\nused in conformity to His own perfections, which is His own law, and,\ntherefore, our law.\u201d\n\nArchbishop Bagshawe in speaking on the subject, said: \u201cWe have the\nduty to imitate the Creator; but the Creator is infinite Mercy, and\nto cultivate in ourselves habits of cruelty, when He is infinite\nMercy, is assuredly not fulfilling that duty.\u201d In another land, an\neminent Cardinal has asserted, that \u201cPeccatum est crudelitas etiam in\nbestias ponit actionem dissonam a fine et ordine Creatoris.\u201d (Cruelty\nto animals is a mortal sin, because it is contrary to the purpose\nand rule of the Creator.) From another Catholic theologian come the\nwords \u201c... in animals there is a something--call it right or call it\nclaim--which is an intrinsic bar to cruelty, and renders that cruelty\na sin. In other words, there is a real objective counterpart to the\nacknowledged sin of cruelty to animals and that is to be found in the\nanimal\u2019s nature.... That animals are meant, in the Providential order\nof things, to educate both the thought and affection of man, is proved\nby the fact that they have that influence. The wrong treatment of them\nmust produce a distorted character, as experience shows. No one will\ndeny that great and habitual cruelty in a child towards animals is\nrightly looked on everywhere as a very bad augury, and is a proof of a\ndepraved disposition.\u201d\n\nFrom the pen of one whose historical studies have brought him a\nworld-wide reputation--the Right Rev. Abbot Gasquet--we learn that\nearly in the fifteenth century, when the art of printing was still\nin its infancy, a book was brought out that, among other duties,\ninculcated that of kindness to animals. The book was called \u201cDives\net Pauper,\u201d and was announced as being \u201ca compendious treatise ...\nfructuously treating upon the Ten Commandments.\u201d To quote from the\nmodernised form in which the Abbot gives the passages, we find the\nfollowing: \u201cFor God that made all, hath care of it all, and he will\ntake vengeance upon all that misuse His creatures.\u201d And again, \u201c... so\nmen should have thought for birds and beasts, and not harm them without\ncause, in taking regard that they are God\u2019s creatures.\u201d\n\nAnd since those far-off days Englishmen and Americans, of all ranks and\nvarious professions, have been ready to urge the rights of our dumb\nfriends to consideration and humane treatment at the hands of all. The\neloquent words of Canon Wilberforce, from the pulpit in Westminster\nAbbey and elsewhere, have in stirring tones brought these duties home\nto large bodies of attentive listeners. The terrors of vivisection have\nbeen the theme of his pen in articles contributed to our monthly press;\nand in one of them, that appeared in the New Review in the year 1893,\nhe asks the stern question, \u201cWhat victory over diseases known to be\nfatal can scientific experts point to as the result of vivisection?\u201d\n\u201cMeanwhile,\u201d the writer adds, \u201cevidence accumulates that untold\nsufferings have been inflicted upon the human race from the erroneous\nconclusions adduced from experiments on animals.\u201d Could any darker\npicture be drawn of suffering on the part of those who are powerless in\nthe hands of man, and its hideous reflection on the members of the race\nwho are responsible for it?\n\nBut it is vain to attempt to give complete instances of those who\nhave done their best to bring the fuller light of a more perfect\nunderstanding on the true relationship of man towards the lower\nanimals. Their name is legion, even without going beyond the bounds\nof our English-speaking land. Poets, churchmen, men of science and of\nliterature, have all contributed to the noble work of rousing their\nfellow men to a fuller realisation of their duties towards their dumb\nfriends. From France, from Spain, from Italy, and from Austria and\nother countries, earnest voices have been raised in the same cause.\n\nFew Englishmen have done more good work in the study of the habits,\ndispositions, and nature of animals, than Dr. Lauder Lindsay. In his\nmost interesting work on \u201cMind in the Lower Animals\u201d we find the\nfollowing passage, which it would be well if the young of the rising\ngeneration were taught to appreciate.\n\n\u201cAt least those animals with whom we have most to do, think and feel as\nwe do; are effected by the same influences, moral or physical; succumb\nto the same diseases, mental or bodily; are elevated or degraded in\nthe social scale, according to our treatment; may become virtuous\nand useful, or vicious and dangerous, just as we are appreciative,\nsympathetic, kindly disposed towards them.\u201d\n\nIf such teaching were given to those who are starting on their way\nthrough life, we might look for a rich harvest of appreciative and\nkindly treatment for our dog friend and his companions, in the years\nthat are to come.\n\n  That loving heart, that patient soul,\n    Had they indeed no longer span\n  To run their course and reach their goal\n    And teach their homily to man?\n  That liquid, melancholy eye\n    From whose _pathetic_ soul-fed springs\n  Seemed surging the Virgilian cry,\n    The sense of tears in mortal things.\n  That steadfast, mournful strain, consoled\n    By spirits gloriously gay,\n  And temper of heroic mould--\n    What!--was _four_ years their whole short day?\n\n\n\n\nINDEX\n\n\n\n\nINDEX\n\n\n  Amora (fox-terrier), 124, 125\n\n\n  Badger baiting, 121\n\n  Bagshawe, Archbishop, quoted, 262\n\n  Balfour, Lady Betty, quoted, 249-251\n\n  Bandy (Dandie Dinmont),\n    accidents to, 47, 55, 61, 62\n    call paid by, 64\n    characteristics of--\n      balls, attachment to, 48, 55, 56\n      games, passion for, 45, 46, 51;\n        fielding, 46-48\n      human companionship, preference for, 46\n      ridicule, distaste for, 65, 66\n      time-reckoning, capacity for, 53, 113\n    death of, 66, 113\n    episcopal procession incident, 61\n    hunting by, 62\n    illnesses of, 51, 58\n    photographs of, 53, 54\n    rifle corps, interest in, 45, 56-58\n    Swain, Mr., encounters with, 49, 57, 58\n    thrashings of, 65\n    verses on, 44, 49-51, 58-60, 67, 68\n\n  Bettina Corona (terrier), 210-215\n\n  Billy (fox-terrier), 187-190\n\n  Bob (retriever), 83, 84\n\n  Bobbins (cattle dog), 204-206, 213-215\n\n  Bobby (Maltese and Pomeranian), 179-181\n\n  Bone on a string experiment, 19, 20\n\n  Bosky (fox-terrier), 213, 243-245, 259\n\n  Boy (mongrel), 208, 209\n\n  Bruce (collie),\n    appearance of, 32\n    characteristics of--\n      independence, 107, 112\n      manners--politeness, 32-35, 112\n      practical joking, appreciation of, 37, 38\n      pugnacity to collies, 37\n    death of, 33\n    homes of, 40-42\n    stealing of, 41\n    train-meeting episode, 39, 40\n\n  Bull-baiting, 261\n\n  Buzz (Skye terrier), 228-230, 259\n\n\n  Collies, reasoning powers exhibited by, 200-202\n\n  Cruiser (retriever), 161, 162\n\n\n  Dash (pointer), 157\n\n  Dog-fighting;\n    _see_ Fighting\n\n  Dracott, A. E., quoted, 252-254\n\n  Dressing up, bull-terrier\u2019s fondness for, 237\n\n  Druid (foxhound), 157, 158\n\n\n  Environment, influence of, 105\n\n\n  Fighting of dogs, 71-74, 81, 82, 258;\n    strategy in, 128\n\n  Floss (terrier), arrival of, 119-121;\n    badger baiting by, 121;\n    friendship of, with Whankey, 170, 171;\n    sense of duty shown by, 190-192\n\n  Fox-hunting;\n    _see_ Hunting\n\n  Frampton, Mr. Featherstonhaugh, 178\n\n\n  Gasquet, Abbot, quoted, 263, 264\n\n  Gilyak tribe, belief held by, 248 _note_\n\n  Goblin (Pyrenean dog), 249-251\n\n  Grief, expression of, in dogs, 117, 118, 171\n\n  Gubbins (Skye terrier),\n    appearance of, 3, 30\n    arrival of, 4\n    blindness of, 30\n    characteristics of--\n      courage, 20\n      devotion and affection for his mistress, 6, 7, 11, 13, 15, 16, 22,\n        106, 117\n      intelligence, 21-25\n      joyousness, 6, 9, 29\n      manners, 10, 26\n      memory of friends, 29\n      mischievousness, 21, 26, 112\n      nervousness and sensitiveness, 4, 5, 9, 112\n      shame, sense of, 25-27\n      time reckoning, capacity for, 27-29\n      wilfulness, 11-12\n    choice of mistress by, 109-112\n    early hardships of, 5\n    illnesses of, 7, 13-15, 27\n    nicknames of, 30\n    show experience of, 7, 8\n    sign and sound system of, 17-19\n\n  Guest, Mr. Merthyr, 133, 158, 178\n\n\n  Hawes, Charles, quoted, 248 _note_\n\n  Holland, Sir Henry, 223\n\n  Homing instinct, 175-180\n\n  Hounds,\n    Blackmore Vale pack, 133, 158\n    corporate life of, 127, 129, 130, 135, 141\n    development of characteristics of, 131\n    donkey line episode, 146\n    enmities among, 135, 136\n    heredity among, 132, 133\n    hunting, joy in, 137\n    huntsman\u2019s influence on, 130, 141, 144\n    kennel life of, 126, 129, 135, 136, 144\n    \u201cLadies first!\u201d 145\n    locality sense among, 177\n    methods of, at work, 142, 143\n    Press, John, anecdotes of, 144, 145\n    relationship ties recognised among, 131, 132, 165, 166\n    stag-hounds, 143, 144\n    training of, 127, 145\n\n  Hunting,\n    cruelties in, 138-140\n    discipline among hunt servants, need for, 146, 147\n    hounds\u2019 joy in, 137;\n      their individuality displayed in, 142, 143\n    huntsmen, influence of, 130, 141, 144\n    killing of the quarry, 137\n    M. F. H., influence of, 139\n    stag-hunting, 143, 144\n\n\n  Imaginative power in dogs, 234, 237\n\n  Individuality in dogs, 105, 106, 109, 142, 143, 149, 163, 187\n\n  Inherited qualities, 123, 124, 128, 131\n\n  Instinct, 116, 117;\n    homing instinct, 175-180\n\n\n  Jack (bull-terrier),\n    appearance, strength, and size of, 69, 74\n    Bob, encounters with, 83, 84\n    boxing games with, 84, 85\n    characteristics of--\n      courage, 69, 108\n      devotion to his mistress and her mother, 75, 76, 108\n      gentleness, 69\n      obedience, 78, 82, 108, 113\n    cow incident, 79, 80\n    death of, 86\n    early life of, 70-73\n    tramp incident, 76-78\n\n  Jack (Yorkshire terrier), 166-170\n\n  Jealousy in dogs, 228, 230\n\n  Jell (mongrel), 118, 119\n\n  Jet (King Charles spaniel),\n    appearance of, 87\n    bull-terrier, encounter with, 90\n    burglar incident, 101\n    characteristics of--\n      artistic finish and cleverness of acting, 89, 95, 96, 100, 107\n      book-destructiveness, 88, 89\n      epicureanism and selfishness, 91, 113, 114\n      joking, love of, 92, 93\n      locality, sense of, 98\n      manners toward strangers, 98\n      thievishness, 88, 89, 94, 97, 100\n    chicken-driving episode, 99\n    death of, 102\n\n  Jim (cat), 211, 212\n\n  Jimmy (cross-bred terrier), 246-248\n\n  Jokes appreciated by dogs, 37, 38, 92, 93\n\n  Jubilee, 170\n\n\n  Kennel life;\n    _see under_ Hounds\n\n\n  Lassie (collie), 34, 38\n\n  Lindsay, Dr. Lander, quoted, 265\n\n  Lion (bulldog), 4, 110, 223-228\n\n  Locality, sense of, 98, 174;\n    bowing instinct, 175-180\n\n  Looking-glasses, dogs\u2019 attitude towards, 234-236\n\n  Lytton, 1st Earl of, anecdote of dog of, 249-251\n\n\n  Manning, Cardinal, quoted, 262\n\n  Maternal affection in dogs, 171-173\n\n  Memory in dogs, 29, 215, 260\n\n  Mental powers in dogs, 117, 159, 200-204, 255, 270\n\n  _Mind in the Lower Animals_ quoted, 265\n\n  Mirrors, dogs\u2019 attitude towards, 234-236\n\n  Moral sense in dogs, 125, 163, 246, 258, 260, 261;\n    _see also_ Shame\n\n  Muff (cat), 85\n\n  Muzzling order defied by dog, 217\n\n\n  Nanky Poo (spaniel), 202-204\n\n  Nugent, Lord, 223\n\n\n  Outlook on life, canine and human, differences in, 115, 122, 123\n\n\n  Pat (Scotch terrier), 181, 182\n\n  Peter (Ruby Blenheim), 88\n\n  Pictures, dogs\u2019 attitude towards, 236, 237\n\n  Pointers and setters,\n    bad shots resented by, 156\n    cruelties to, 153, 154\n    dead grouse incident, 160\n    maternal affection of Black Prince pointer, 172, 173\n    methods of, at work, 157-159\n    retrieving by, 159\n    training of, 148, 149, 151, 152\n\n  Pratt, Mr., 5\n\n  Press, John, 144, 145\n\n  Primeval qualities transmitted, 123, 124, 128, 131\n\n  Prince (setter), 154, 155\n\n\n  Quarrelsomeness of dogs, 128\n\n\n  Rakish (hound), 178\n\n  Raleigh (foxhound), 134\n\n  Rama (foxhound), 133-135\n\n  Ratler (fox-terrier), 165, 166\n\n  Reasoning and reflecting powers;\n    _see_ Mental\n\n  Responsibility and duty, sense of, 187, 190, 191\n\n  Retriever and ducklings, 161, 162\n\n  Rica (Basset hound), 4, 110, 111\n\n  Right and wrong, sense of;\n    _see_ Moral\n\n  \u201cRights\u201d of animals, 256-258, 262-264\n\n  Rover (greyhound), 183-186\n\n  Roy (fox-terrier), 206-208\n\n  Roy (King Charles spaniel), 166-169\n\n  Royal (fox-terrier), 165, 166\n\n  Running of dogs with carriage or bicycle, 16, 42, 80\n\n\n  Serrell, Miss A. F., cited, 132;\n    quoted, 133-135, 144, 145, 158, 178, 205, 230, 232\n\n  Setters;\n    _see_ Pointers and setters\n\n  Shakespeare on dogs, 222, 223\n\n  Shame, sense of, 25-27, 163-165, 243, 245, 246, 258\n\n  Shooting, cruelties in, 154\n\n  Shot (pointer), 150, 151\n\n  Shows, 7, 8, 35, 36\n\n  _Simla Village Tales_ quoted, 252-254\n\n  Smell, sense of, 123\n\n  Stag-hunting, 143, 144\n\n  Stella (fox-terrier), 174, 175\n\n  Strangers, attacks on, 218, 219\n\n  Sylvia (Blenheim spaniel), 237-242\n\n\n  Thornton, Col., 157\n\n  Time sense in dogs, 27-29, 53, 113\n\n  Tip (Dalmatian), 208\n\n  Tip (lurcher), 182\n\n  Training,\n    gentle methods of, 165\n    hounds, of, 127, 145\n    pointers and setters, of, 148, 149, 151, 152\n\n  Tyke (fox-terrier), 192-199\n\n\n  Venus (fox-terrier), 217-221\n\n  Verses on dogs, 44, 49-51, 58-60, 67, 68\n\n  Vivisection, 258, 264\n\n\n  Whankey (black and tan rough terrier), 170, 171, 230-233\n\n  Wilberforce, Canon, quoted, 264\n\n  _With Hound and Terrier in the Field_ quoted, 133-135, 144, 145, 158,\n    178, 205, 230-232\n\n\nUNIVERSITY PRESS, CAMBRIDGE, U. S. A.\n\n\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[1]\n\n  Lament, ye boys, and mourn, O Common Room,\n  Ye gentle ladies, weep for Bandy\u2019s doom\n  If dogs ye love; for he, alas! has died,\n  The darling of this College and its pride;\n  He who with almost a House Master\u2019s might\n  Guided the boys of Littlefield aright.\n  But yet he loved not Littlefield alone,\n  All things Marlburian had he made his own;\n  His kindly presence would encourage all\n  Who threw, or hit, or kicked the flying ball;\n  Were they but keen and vigorous in their play\n  His wagging tail would urge them to the fray,\n  While his example was a mute reproof\n  To all whom sloth or slackness kept aloof.\n  Sometimes defiant, resolute, and bold,\n  In straining jaws four racquet balls he\u2019d hold;\n  Sometimes with sportive bark to greater speed\n  And wily nip he\u2019d urge the panting steed.\n  So would he wander at his own sweet will\n  From Clump or Cricket Field to Granham Hill;\n  But when confined by sickness and ill luck,\n  He could not brook th\u2019unworthy bonds of Duck:\n  The twisted noose that brought to him relief\n  O\u2019erwhelmed his master with unending grief.\n\n                                        F. B. MALIN.\n\n\n[2] With Hound and Terrier in the Field, pp. 229 _et seq._\n\n[3] With Hound and Terrier in the Field, pp. 52, 53.\n\n[4] With Hound and Terrier in the Field, by Alys F. Serrell, p. 226.\n\n[5] With Hound and Terrier in the Field, p. 231.\n\n[6] With Hound and Terrier in the Field, p. 193.\n\n[7] Recollections of My past Life, by Sir Henry Holland, p. 254.\n\n[8] With Hound and Terrier in the Field, pp. 182 _et seq._\n\n[9] While writing this book, I have been struck by the curious faith\nof the Gilyaks, one of the tribes to be found on that dark spot on the\nface of the earth, the Island of Sakhalin. Mr. Charles Hawes, in his\nbook, _In the Uttermost East_, says that the Gilyaks believe that the\nspirits of the dead hold communication with their living relatives.\nThey may come to give counsel, or to warn of impending misfortune. No\nhuman eye can see them, nor can the senses of the living detect their\npresence. Only to dogs is it given to know of their approach, and this\nknowledge they show by a peculiar howling. Mr. Hawes, who in normal\nhealth was, as his book shows, a man of strong common sense and iron\nnerves, as any visitor to Sakhalin needs to be, thus tells of his\nexperience. \u201cMy conversion took place ... on the Okhotsk coast, where\nmy interpreter and I lay awake one night in the tent of an Orotchon....\nAt about 2 A. M. a low howl began, echoed and varied by thirty\nor forty other members of the canine race, a low peculiar cry of pain\ngrowing into a long, drawn-out wail, rising and swelling until at last\nit ended in almost a scream.\u201d \u201cAn unholy, ill-omened proceeding which\nsurely nought earthly could account for,\u201d is Mr. Hawes\u2019 reflection on\nthe occurrence, but he adds, \u201cperhaps the fact that we were ill with\nptomaine poisoning may have predisposed us to thoughts of _Inligh-vo_\u201d\n(a village in the centre of the earth to which the spirits of the\ndeparted go). It is curious to note that in the beliefs of these wild\npeople, the spirits of the murdered and suicides fly to _tlo_ (heaven)\ndirect, without a preliminary sojourn in the happy hunting grounds of\n_Inligh-vo_.\n\n[10] Personal and Literary Letters of Robert, 1st Earl of Lytton,\nedited by Lady Betty Balfour.\n\n[11] Simla Village Tales, by Alice Elizabeth Dracott.\n\n[12] See p. 243.\n\n[13] See p. 228.\n\n[14] See p. 164.\n\n\n      *      *      *      *      *      *\n\n\n\n\nTranscriber\u2019s note:\n\n  Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.\n\n  Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.\n\n  Archaic or alternate spelling which may have been in use at the time\n    of publication has been retained from the original.\n\n  On page 13, the word \u201cwith\u201d was inserted so the sentence reads, \u201cBut\n    there could be no doubt in the mind of any one who was with him ...\u201d","title":"\"The One\" Dog and \"The Others\": A Study of Canine Character","tradition":"folklore-oral-tradition","translated_text":null,"word_count":76580}