Chapter XI: Part 11

The sagacity of the poodle is strongly shown by the following fact. Mr. B----t, who was constantly in the habit of making tours on the Continent, was always accompanied by a poodle dog. In one of his journeys he was seated at a table-d'hote next to a person whose conversation he found so agreeable, that a sort of intimacy sprung up between them. The dog, however, for the first time he had ever done so to any one, showed a dislike to the stranger, and so much so, that Mr. B----t could not help remarking it. In the course of his tour he again fell in with the stranger, when the intimacy was renewed, and Mr. B----t offered him a seat in his carriage as they were both going the same way. No sooner, however, had the stranger entered the carriage, than the dog showed an increased dislike of him, which continued during the course of the journey. At night they slept at a small inn, in a wild and somewhat unfrequented country, and on separating in the evening to go to their respective beds, the poodle evinced the greatest anger, and was with difficulty restrained from attacking the stranger. In the middle of the night Mr. B----t was awoke by a noise in his room, and there was light enough for him to perceive that his dog had seized his travelling companion, who, upon being threatened, confessed that he had entered the room for the purpose of endeavouring to purloin Mr. B----t's money, of which he was aware that he possessed a considerable quantity. This is not a solitary instance of an instinctive faculty which enables dogs to discriminate, by showing a strong dislike, the characters of particular individuals.

A friend has sent me the following account of a poodle he once had:--

"Many years ago I had a poodle who was an excellent retriever. He was a middle-sized, active dog, a first-rate waterman, with a nose so particularly sensitive that no object, however minute, could escape its 'delicate investigation.' Philip was the hardiest animal in the world--no sea would prevent him from carrying a dead bird through the boiling breakers, and I have seen him follow and secure a wounded mallard, although in the attempt his legs were painfully scarified in breaking through a field of ice scarcely the thickness of a crown-piece. Philip, though of French extraction, had decidedly Irish partialities. He delighted in a glass of grog; and no matter with what labour and constancy he had returned from retrieving, he still enjoyed a glass of punch. When he had drunk it, he was in high glee, running round and round to try and catch his own tail, and even then allowing the cat to approach him, which he was by no means disposed to do at other times."

When my daughter was in Germany, she sent me the following interesting anecdote of a poodle, the accuracy of which she had an opportunity of ascertaining.

An inhabitant of Dresden had a poodle that he was fond of, and had always treated kindly. For some reason or another he gave her to a friend of his, a countryman in Possenderf, who lived three leagues from Dresden. This person, who well knew the great attachment of the dog to her former master, took care to keep her tied up, and would not let her leave the house till he thought she had forgotten him. During this time the poodle had young ones, three in number, which she nourished with great affection, and appeared to bestow upon them her whole attention, and to have entirely given up her former uneasiness at her new abode. From this circumstance her owner thought she had forgotten her old master, and therefore no longer kept her a close prisoner. Very soon, however, the poodle was missing, and also the three young ones, and nothing was heard of her for several days. One morning his friend came to him from Dresden, and informed him that the preceding evening the poodle had come to his house with one of the puppies in her mouth, and that another had been found dead on the road to Possenderf. It appeared that the dog had started in the night, carrying the puppies (who were not able to walk) one after the other, a certain distance on the road to Dresden, with the evident intention of conveying them all to her much-loved home and master. The third puppy was never found, and is supposed to have been carried off by some wild animal or bird, while the poor mother was in advance with the others. The dead one had apparently perished from cold.

The late Dr. Chisholm of Canterbury had a remarkable poodle, which a correspondent informs me he has often seen. On one occasion he was told, for the first time, by way of trial, to fetch his master's slippers. He went up-stairs, and brought down one only. He was then told, "You have brought one only, go and fetch the other;" and the other was brought. The next evening the dog was again told to bring the slippers. He went up-stairs, put one slipper within the other, and brought both down. This dog appeared to understand much of our language. When dining with Dr. Chisholm and others, his intelligence was put to the proof by my correspondent. Some one would hide an article, open the door, and bring in the dog, saying, "Find so-and-so." The poodle used to look up steadily in the face of the speaker, until he was told whether the article was hid high or low; he would then search either on the ground, or on the chairs and furniture, and bring the article, never taking any notice of any other thing that was lying about. He would, upon being ordered, go up-stairs and bring down a snuff-box, stick, pocket-handkerchief, or anything, understanding as readily what was said to him as if spoken to a servant.

Another poodle would go through the agonies of dying in a very systematic manner. When he was ordered to die, he would tumble over on one side, and then stretch himself out, and move his hind legs in such a way as expressed that he was in great pain, first slowly and afterwards very quickly. After a few convulsive throbs, indicated by putting his head and whole body in motion, he would stretch out all his limbs and cease to move, lying on his back with his legs turned upwards, as if he had expired. In this situation he remained motionless until he had his master's commands to get up.

The following anecdote was communicated to the Rev. Mr. Jenyns by Mrs. Grosvenor, of Richmond, Surrey:--

A poodle dog belonging to a gentleman in Cheshire was in the habit of not only going to church, but of remaining quietly in the pew during service, whether his master was there or not. One Sunday the dam at the head of a lake in that neighbourhood gave way, so that the whole road was inundated. The congregation, in consequence, consisted of a very few, who came from some cottages close by, but nobody attended from the great house. The clergyman informed the lady, that whilst reading the Psalms he saw his friend, the poodle, come slowly up the aisle dripping with wet, having swam above a quarter of a mile to get to church. He went into the usual pew, and remained quietly there to the end of the service.

The Marquess of Worcester (the late Duke of Beaufort), who served in the Peninsular war, had a poodle which was taken from the grave of his master, a French officer, who fell at the battle of Salamanca, and was buried on the spot. The dog had remained on the grave until he was nearly starved, and even then was removed with difficulty; so faithful are these animals in protecting the remains of those they loved.

A poodle dog followed his master, a French officer, to the wars; the latter was soon afterwards killed at the battle of Castella, in Valencia, when his comrades endeavoured to carry the dog with them in their retreat; but the faithful animal refused to leave the corpse, and they left him. A military marauder, in going over the field of battle, discovering the cross of the legion of honour on the dead officer's breast, attempted to capture it, but the poodle instantly seized him by the throat, and would have ended his career had not a comrade run the honest canine guardian through the body.

Mr. Blaine, in his "Account of Dogs," says that, "strange as it may appear, it is no less true, that a poodle dog actually scaled the high buildings of my residence in Wells Street, Oxford Street, proceeded along several roofs of houses, and made his way down by progressive but very considerable leaps into distant premises; from whence, by watching and stratagem, he gained the street, and returned home in order to join his mistress, for whose sake he had encountered these great risks."

I am always glad to have an opportunity of acknowledging the kindness of my correspondents, and now do so to the clergyman who very kindly sent me the following anecdote, which I give in his own words:--

"I have a distinct remembrance of Froll or Frolic, a dog belonging to an aged relation, once the property of her deceased only son, which animal, in his earlier days, doubtless gave evidence that his name was not given him unadvisedly, but during the yearly visits of myself to that kind and indulgent person, I can remember nothing but a rather small though fat unwieldy poodle, whose curly, glossy coat (preserved after his death), long yellow ears, and black nose, the rest of his body being perfectly white, betokened that he had been a beauty in his time. Froll was still a prodigious favourite with his mistress, although I confess my feelings towards him were rather those of fear than any other, for to touch him was quite sufficient to evoke a growl, or perchance a snap, from this pet of a dozen years or more. A cross, snappish fellow he was at best, and well he knew the length of Trusty the house-dog's chain, which less favoured quadruped was never let loose by day, from a well-grounded fear that he might, if allowed, resent, by summary punishment, the constant insults he was doomed to submit to from this most petted and presumptuous myrmidon of the drawing-room. With all this, although time and over-feeding had soured his temper, Froll still retained much of, if not all, his former intelligence (a trait so peculiar to his species), declared by many long-past but still vaunted proofs of his being a wonder in his way. One of his peculiarities was a fondness for apples--not indeed all apples, but those which grew on a particular tree, called 'Froll's tree,' and no others; this tree was, by the way, the best in the garden, and the small, sweet, delicate fruit therefrom (my reminiscence is distinct on this point) were carefully preserved for this canine favourite. Nothing would entice him to eat any other sort of apple. And in the season he would constantly urge his mistress into the garden by repeated barking, and other unmistakable symptoms. His daily meals, too, of which I think there were three regular ones, were events in themselves, the careful attention to which tended perhaps to relieve the monotony of a country life: they are indeed not speedily to be forgotten by those who witnessed them. He would take food from no one but his mistress or her maid, which latter person was his chief purveyor, who had been an inmate of the house contemporary with himself, or I believe long before; but this feeding was generally a task of great trouble, such coaxing and humouring on the one hand, such growling and snarling on the other, has been perhaps seldom heard. At length, after much beseeching on the part of the maid, and a few words of entreaty from the mistress, he would condescend to eat; but never, I believe, without some symptoms of discontent, how savoury soever the morsel, submitting to that as a favour which is generally snatched at and devoured with so much gusto and avidity by most others of his tribe. I should not have entered into these peculiarities, which are scarcely evidence of any intelligence beyond that of other dogs, were it not that the circumstances attending his death were really extraordinary, the more so when the character of the dog is considered; and as we have so often heard of a presentiment of that great change being strongly imprinted on human minds, so there were not wanting some of the then inmates of the house, who attributed his unwonted behaviour on the eve of his death to the same cause. The dog slept constantly in his mistress's bed-room, but, contrary to custom on the night in question, he pertinaciously refused to remain there. My brother and myself, who were then little boys, were, to our great surprise, aroused in the course of the night by an unwonted scratching at the door of our apartment, which we immediately opened, and, to our equal delight and wonder, were saluted by Froll's jumping up and licking our hands and faces--certainly he never appeared in better health and spirits in his life. Whether he did this to atone for his former uncourteous behaviour towards us, or was urged by some unaccountable feeling of amiability as well as restlessness, I cannot say, but certain it is his gentler faculties were that night for once aroused, for this unaccustomed compliment I can safely affirm we never personally received at any former period of our acquaintance. After a time he left us, charmed at experiencing these new and flattering demonstrations; which joy was, alas! doomed to be sadly and speedily extinguished. When the morning came, the distressed countenance of the servant who called us, portended some evil tidings, which was quickly followed by the unexpected intelligence of the demise of poor Froll. We hastily accompanied the servant into the coachman's sleeping apartment, and there, under the bed, lay the poor dog. It had pleased him to go there to die, having previously aroused every individual in the house during the night by scratching at their several chambers one after another, and saluting them in the same amiable manner he had my brother and myself."

This anecdote could be well authenticated by most of the persons then in the house, who are still alive.

THE ESQUIMAUX DOG.

Dr. Richardson, in his "American Fauna," mentions as a curious fact, that those Indian nations who still preserve their ancient mode of life, have dogs which bear a strong resemblance to wolves. Thus it is with the Esquimaux dogs. They are extremely like the grey wolves of the Arctic Circle in form and colour, and nearly equal to them in size. They also bear some resemblance to the Pomeranian breed, although the latter are much smaller.

It is curious that almost every nation on earth has some particular traditions regarding the dog. The Esquimaux, a nation inhabiting the polar regions, have a singular fable amongst them respecting the origin of the Dog-Rib Indians, a tribe which inhabits the northern confines of the American continent. It is thus detailed in Captain Franklin's "Second Journey to the Polar Sea:"--

"For a long time Chapawee's descendants were united as one family, but at length some young men being accidentally killed in a game, a quarrel ensued, and a general dispersion of mankind took place. One Indian fixed his residence on the borders of the lake, taking with him a dog big with young. The pups in due time were littered, and the Indian, when he went out to fish, carefully tied them up to prevent their straying. Several times, as he approached his tent, he heard a noise of children talking and playing; but on entering it, he only perceived the pups tied up as usual. His curiosity being excited by the voices he had heard, he determined to watch; and one day pretending to go out and fish, according to custom, he concealed himself in a convenient place. In a short time he again heard voices, and rushing suddenly into the tent, beheld some beautiful children sporting and laughing, with the dog-skins lying by their side. He threw the skins into the fire, and the children, retaining their proper forms, grew up, and were the ancestors of the Dog-Rib nation."

Captain Lyon, who had so many opportunities of studying the habits of the Esquimaux dog, has given so interesting an account of it that I cannot do better than quote his own words:--

"Having myself possessed, during our hard winter, a team of eleven fine dogs, I was enabled to become better acquainted with their good qualities than could possibly have been the case by the casual visits of the Esquimaux to the ships. The form of the Esquimaux dog is very similar to that of our shepherds' dog in England, but it is more muscular and broad-chested, owing to the constant and severe work to which he is brought up. His ears are pointed, and the aspect of the head is somewhat savage. In size a fine dog is about the height of the Newfoundland breed, but broad like a mastiff in every part except the nose. The hair of the coat is in summer, as well as in winter, very long, but during the cold season a soft, downy under-covering is found, which does not appear in warm weather. Young dogs are put into harness as soon as they can walk, and being tied up, soon acquire a habit of pulling, in their attempts to recover their liberty, or to roam in quest of their mother. When about two months old, they are put into the sledge with the grown dogs, and sometimes eight or ten little ones are under the charge of some steady old animal, where, with frequent and sometimes severe beatings, they soon receive a competent education. Every dog is distinguished by a particular name, and the angry repetition of it has an effect as instantaneous as an application of the whip, which instrument is of an immense length, having a lash from eighteen to twenty-four feet, while the handle is one foot only; with this, by throwing it on one side or the other of the leader, and repeating certain words, the animals are guided or stopped. When the sledge is stopped they are all taught to lie down, by throwing the whip gently over their backs, and they will remain in this position even for hours, until their master returns to them. A walrus is frequently drawn along by three or four of these dogs, and seals are sometimes carried home in the same manner, though I have in some instances seen a dog bring home the greater part of a seal in panniers placed across his back. The latter mode of conveyance is often used in summer, and the dogs also carry skins or furniture overland to the sledges when their masters are going on any expedition. It might be supposed that in so cold a climate these animals had peculiar periods of gestation, like the wild creatures, but, on the contrary, they bear young at every season of the year, and seldom exceed five at a litter. Cold has very little effect on them; for although the dogs at the huts slept within the snow passages, mine at the ships had no shelter, but lay alongside, with the thermometer at 42 deg. and 44 deg., and with as little concern as if the weather had been mild. I found, by several experiments, that three of my dogs could draw me on a sledge, weighing one hundred pounds, at the rate of one mile in six minutes; and as a proof of the strength of a well-grown dog, my leader drew one hundred and ninety-six pounds singly, and to the same distance, in eight minutes. At another time seven of my dogs ran a mile in four minutes, drawing a heavy sledge full of men. Afterwards, in carrying stores to the Fury, one mile distant, nine dogs drew one thousand six hundred and eleven pounds in the space of nine minutes. My sledge was on runners, neither shod nor iced; but had the runners been iced, at least forty pounds weight would have been added for each dog."

Captain Lyon, in another passage, observes:--"Our eleven dogs were large, and even majestic-looking animals; and an old one of peculiar sagacity was placed at their head by having a longer trace, so as to lead them through the safest and driest places, these animals having such a dread of water as to receive a severe beating before they would swim a foot. The leader was instant in obeying the voice of the driver, who never beat, but repeatedly called to him by name. When the dogs slackened their pace, the sight of a seal or bird was sufficient to put them instantly to their full speed; and even though none of these might be seen on the ice, the cry of "a seal!"--"a bear!"--or "a bird!" &c., was enough to give play to the legs and voices of the whole pack. It was a beautiful sight to observe the two sledges racing at full speed to the same object, the dogs and men in full cry, and the vehicles splashing through the holes of water with the velocity and spirit of rival stage-coaches. There is something of the spirit of professed whips in these wild races, for the young men delight in passing each other's sledge, and jockeying the hinder one by crossing the path. In passing on different routes the right hand is yielded, and should an inexperienced driver endeavour to take the left, he would have some difficulty in persuading his team to do so. The only unpleasant circumstance attending these races is, that a poor dog is sometimes entangled and thrown down, when the sledge, with perhaps a heavy load, is unavoidably drawn over his body. The driver sits on the fore part of the vehicle, from whence he jumps when requisite to pull it clear of any impediments which may lie in the way, and he also guides it by pressing either foot on the ice. The voice and long whip answer all the purposes of reins, and the dogs can be made to turn a corner as dexterously as horses, though not in such an orderly manner, since they are constantly fighting; and I do not recollect to have seen one receive a flogging without instantly wreaking his passion on the ears of his neighbours. The cries of the men are not more melodious than those of the animals; and their wild looks and gestures when animated, give them an appearance of devils driving wolves before them. Our dogs had eaten nothing for forty-eight hours, and could not have gone over less than seventy miles of ground; yet they returned, to all appearance, as fresh and active as when they first set out."

Such is the Esquimaux dog, an animal of the greatest value in the cold regions of the Arctic circle. In addition to Captain Lyon's very interesting account of them, it may be mentioned that they are of great use to their masters in discovering by the scent the winter retreats which the bears make under the snow. Their endurance, too, never tires, and their fidelity is never shaken by blows and starving: they are obstinate in their nature, but the women, who treat them with more kindness than the men, and who nurse them in their helpless state, or when they are sick, have an unbounded command over their affections.

I am indebted to Colonel Hamilton Smith for the following account of an Esquimaux dog brought to this country, and which he received from Mr. Cleghorn, the owner of the animal:--

"The Esquimaux dog is possessed of very great sagacity--in some respects, more than any dog I have ever seen. I may mention an instance. In coming along a country road a hare started, and in place of running after the hare in the usual way, the dog pushed himself through the hedge, crossed the field, and, when past the hare, through the hedge again, as if to meet her direct. It is needless to remark, that the hare doubled through the hedge; but had it been in an open country, there would have been a fine chase. One particular characteristic of the dog is, that he forms a strong attachment to his master, and however kind others may be, they never can gain his affection, even from coaxing with food or otherwise; and, whenever set at liberty, he rushes to the spot where the individual of his attachment is. I may give one or two instances among many. One morning he was let loose by some of the men on the ground, when he instantly bounded from them to my house, and the kitchen-door being open, found his way through it; when, to the great amazement of all, he leaped into the bed where I was sleeping, and fawned in the most affectionate manner upon me. Another instance was, when the dog was with me going up the steep bank of the Prince's Street garden, I slipped my foot and came down, when he immediately seized me by the coat, as if to render assistance in raising me. Notwithstanding this particular affection to some, he was in the habit of biting others, without giving the least warning or indication of anger. He was remarkably cunning, for he was in the practice of strewing his meat around him, to induce fowls or rats to come within his reach while he lay watching, as if asleep, when he instantly pounced upon them, and always with success. He was swift, and had a noble appearance when running."

THE OTTER TERRIER.

"How greedily
They snuff the fishy steam, that to each blade
Rank scenting clings! See! how the morning dews
They sweep, that from their feet besprinkling drop
Dispersed, and leave a track oblique behind.
Now on firm land they range, then in the flood
They plunge tumultuous; or through reedy pools
Rustling they work their way; no holt escapes
Their curious search. With quick sensation now
The fuming vapour stings; flutter their hearts,
And joy redoubled bursts from every mouth
In louder symphonies. Yon hollow trunk,
That with its hoary head incurv'd salutes
The passing wave, must be the tyrant's fort
And dread abode. How these impatient climb,
While others at the root incessant bay!--
They put him down."--SOMERVILLE.

The above is an animated and beautiful description of an otter hunt, an old English sport fast falling into disuse, and the breed of the real otter-hound is either extinct or very nearly so. In stating this, I am aware that there are still many dogs which are called otter-hounds; but it may be doubted whether they possess that peculiar formation which belongs exclusively to the true breed. Few things in nature are more curious and interesting than this formation, and it shows forcibly how beautifully everything has been arranged for the instincts and several habits of animals. The true otter-hound is completely web-footed, even to the roots of its claws; thus enabling it to swim with much greater facility and swiftness than other dogs. But it has another extraordinary formation; the ear possesses a sort of flap, which covering the aperture excludes the entrance of the water, and thus the dog is enabled to dive after the otter without that inconvenience which it would otherwise experience. The Earl of Cadogan has, what his Lordship considers, the last of the breed of the true otter-hound. It was a present from Sir Walter Scott. Lord Cadogan offered one hundred pounds for another dog of the same breed, but of a different sex; but I believe without being able to procure one with those true marks which are confined to the authentic breed. A gipsy was, indeed, said to have possessed one, but he refused to part with it.

Those who saw the exhibition of pictures in the Royal Academy in 1844 will recollect a large, interesting, and beautiful picture by Sir Edwin Landseer of a pack of otter-hounds. The picture describes the hunt at the time of the termination of the chase and the capture of the otter. The animal is impaled on the huntsman's spear, while the rough, shaggy, and picturesque-looking pack are represented with eyes intently fixed on the amphibious beast, and howling in uncouth chorus round their agonized and dying prey.

An otter-hunt is a cheerful and inspiriting sport, and it is still carried on in some of the lakes of Cumberland. Indeed, as lately as the year 1844, a pack of otter-hounds was advertised in the newspapers to be sold by private contract. The alleged cause of the owner's parting with them was in consequence of their having cleared the rivers of three counties (Staffordshire being one) of all the otters, and the number captured and killed in the last few years was mentioned. "Good otter-hounds," as an old writer observes, "will come chanting, and trail along by the river-side, and will beat every tree-root, every osier-bed, and tuft of bulrushes; nay, sometimes they will take the water and beat it like a spaniel, and by these means the otter can hardly escape you." The otter swims and dives with great celerity, and in doing the latter it throws up _sprots_, or air-bubbles, which enable the hunters to ascertain where it is, and to spear it. The best time to find it is early in the morning. It may frequently be traced by the dead fish and fish-bones strewed along the banks of the river. The prints, also, of the animal's feet, called his _seal_, are of a peculiar formation, and thus it is readily traced. The otter preys during the night, and conceals himself in the daytime under the banks of lakes and rivers, where he generally forms a kind of subterraneous gallery, running for several yards parallel to the water's edge, so that if he should be assailed from one end, he flies to the other. When he takes to the water, it is necessary that those who have otter-spears should watch the bubbles, for he generally vents near them. When the otter is seized, or upon the point of being caught by the hounds, he turns upon his pursuers with the utmost ferocity. Instances are recorded of dogs having been drowned by otters, which they had seized under water, for they can sustain the want of respiration for a much longer time than the dog.

Mr. Daniell, in his "Rural Sports," remarks that hunting the otter was formerly considered as excellent sport, and that hounds were kept solely for that purpose. The sportsmen went on each side of the river, beating the banks and sedges with the dogs. If an otter was not soon found, it was supposed that he had gone to _couch_ more inland, and was sought for accordingly. If one was found, the sportsmen viewed his track in the mud, to find which way he had taken.

"On the soft sand,
See there his seal impress'd! And on that bank
Behold the glitt'ring spoils, half-eaten fish,
Scales, fins, and bones, the leavings of his feast."

The spears were used in aid of the dogs. When an otter is wounded, he makes directly to land, where he maintains an obstinate defence:--

"Lo! to yon sedgy bank
He creeps disconsolate; his numerous foes
Surround him, hounds and men. Pierc'd through and through,
On pointed spears they lift him high in air;
Bid the loud horns, in gaily warbling strains,
Proclaim the spoiler's fate: he dies, he dies."

The male otter never makes any complaint when seized by the dogs, or even when transfixed with a spear, but the females emit a very shrill squeal. In the year 1796, near Bridgenorth, on the river Wherfe, four otters were killed. One stood three, another four hours before the dogs, and was scarcely a minute out of sight. In April 1804, the otter-hounds of Mr. Coleman, of Leominster, killed an otter of extraordinary size. It measured from the nose to the end of the tail, four feet ten inches, and weighed thirty-four and a half pounds. This animal was supposed to be eight years old, and to have destroyed for the last five years a ton of fish annually. The destruction of fish by this animal is, indeed, very great, for he will eat none unless it be perfectly fresh, and what he takes himself. By his mode of eating them he causes a still greater consumption, for so soon as an otter catches a fish he drags it on shore, devours it to the vent, and, unless pressed by extreme hunger, always leaves the remainder, and takes to the water in search of more. In rivers it is always observed to swim against the stream, in order to meet its prey.

Otters bite very severely, and they will seize upon a dog with the utmost ferocity, and will shake it as a terrier does a rat. The jaws of the otter are so constructed, that even when dead it is difficult to separate them, as they adhere with the utmost tenacity. Otters are frequently found on the banks of the Thames, and a large one was caught in an eel-basket, near Windsor, but the hunting of them is discontinued.

THE GREYHOUND.

"Ah! gallant Snowball! what remains,
Up Fordon's banks, o'er Flixton's plains,
Of all thy strength--thy sinewy force,
Which rather flew than ran the course?
Ah! what remains? Save that thy breed
May to their father's fame succeed;
And when the prize appears in view,
May prove that they are Snowballs too."

The perfection to which the greyhound has been brought by persevering care and attention to its breed, distinguishes it alike for beauty, shape, and high spirit, while its habits are mild and gentle in the extreme. These dogs were brought to this great perfection by the late Lord Orford, Major Topham, and others. Snowball,--perhaps one of the best greyhounds that ever ran,--won four cups, couples, and upwards of thirty matches, at Malton, and upon the wolds of Yorkshire. In fact, no dog had any chance with him except his own blood. In the November Malton coursing-meeting in 1799, a Scotch greyhound was produced, which had beat every opponent in Scotland. It was then brought to England, and challenged any dog in the kingdom. The challenge was accepted, and Snowball selected for the trial of speed; after a course of two miles, the match (upon which considerable sums were depending) was decided in his favour.

Another dog, which belonged to Sir Henry Bate Dudley, won seventy-four successive matches, without having been once beaten.

Various have been the opinions upon the difference of speed between a well-bred greyhound and a racehorse, if opposed to each other. Wishes had been frequently indulged by the sporting world, that some criterion could be adopted by which the superiority of speed could be fairly ascertained, when the following circumstance accidentally took place, and afforded some information upon what had been previously considered a matter of great uncertainty. In the month of December, some years ago, a match was to have been run over Doncaster race-course for one hundred guineas; but one of the horses having been drawn, a mare started alone, that by running the ground she might ensure the wager, when having run about one mile in the four, she was accompanied by a greyhound bitch, which joined her from the side of the course, and emulatively entering into the competition, continued to race with the mare for the other three miles, keeping nearly head and head, and affording an excellent treat to the field by the energetic exertions of each. At passing the distance-post, five to four was betted in favour of the greyhound; when parallel with the stand, it was even betting, and any person might have taken his choice from five to ten: the mare, however, had the advantage by a head at the termination of the course.

The courage and spirit of these dogs is very great. A greyhound ran a hare single-handed and raced her so hard, that, not having time to run through an opening at the bottom of some paling, she and the greyhound made a spring at the same moment at the top of the pales. The dog seized her at the instant she reached it, and in the momentary struggle he slipt between two broken pales, each of which ran into the top of his thighs. In this situation he hung till the horsemen came up, when, to their great surprise, he had the hare fast in his mouth, which was taken from him before he could be released.

I saw a hare coursed on the Brighton Downs some years ago by two celebrated greyhounds. Such was the length of the course, some of it up very steep hills, that the hare fell dead before the dogs, who were so exhausted that they only reached to within six feet of her. This was one of the severest courses ever witnessed.

On another occasion, two dogs ran a hare for several miles, and with such speed as to be very soon out of sight of the coursing party. After a considerable search, both the dogs and the hare were found dead within a few yards of each other; nor did it appear that the former had touched the hare. Mr. Daniel, in his "Rural Sports," states that a brace of greyhounds, in Lincolnshire, ran a hare from her seat to where she was killed, a distance, measuring straight, of upwards of four miles, in twelve minutes. During the course there was a good number of turns, which must have very considerably increased the space gone over. The hare ran till she died before the greyhounds touched her.

In the year 1798, a brace of greyhounds, the property of Mr. Courtall of Carlisle, coursed a hare from the Swift, near that city, and killed her at Clemmell, seven miles distant. Both greyhounds were so exhausted, that unless the aid of medical men, who happened to be on the spot, had been immediately given, they would have died, and it was with difficulty they were recovered.

In the year 1818, a black greyhound bitch, the property of Mr. John Heaton, of Scarisbrick, in Lancashire, left her master, forsook the habitation where she had been reared, betook herself to the fields and thickets, and adopted a life of unlimited freedom, defying all the restraints of man. In this state she killed a great number of hares for food, and occasionally made free with the sheep; she, therefore, very soon became a nuisance in the neighbourhood. She had taken her station at the distance of two miles from her master's house, and was generally found near this spot. In consequence of her depredations, many attempts were made to shoot her, but in vain. She eluded, for more than six months, the vigilance of her pursuers. At length she was observed to go into a barn that stood in a field which she frequented. She entered the building through a hole in the wall, and, by means of a rope-snare, was caught as she came out. On entering the barn, three whelps were found about a week old; so that in her savage state she had evidently been visited by a male of her own species. The whelps were (foolishly enough) immediately destroyed. As the bitch herself evinced the utmost ferocity, and, though well secured, vainly attempted to seize every person that approached, she was taken home, and treated with the greatest kindness. By degrees her ferocity abated, and in the course of two months she became perfectly reconciled to her original abode. The following season she ran several courses. There continued a wildness in her look; yet, although at perfect liberty, she did not attempt again to stray away, but seemed quite reconciled to her domestic life.

Few facts can show the high courage of the greyhound more than the following:--

As a gamekeeper of Lord Egremont's was leading a brace of greyhounds in couples, a hare accidentally crossed the road in view. This temptation proved so irresistible, that the dogs, by a joint effort, broke suddenly from their conductor, and gave chase, shackled as they were together. When they got up and gave the hare the first turn, it was evidently much to her advantage, as the greyhounds were so embarrassed that it was with great difficulty they could change the direction. Notwithstanding this temporary delay, they sustained no diminution of natural energy, but continued the course through and over various obstructions, till the object of their pursuit fell a victim to their invincible perseverance, after a run of between three and four miles.

In addition to the beauty, elegance, high spirit, and speed of the greyhound, may be mentioned his mild and affectionate disposition, as well as his fidelity and attachment to those who treat him with kindness. They will also show sometimes considerable sagacity, of which the following is an instance:--

Two young gentlemen went to skate, attended only by a greyhound. About the time they were expected home, the dog arrived at the house full speed, and by his great anxiety, by laying hold of the clothes of some of the inmates, and by his significant gestures, he convinced them that something was wrong. They followed the greyhound, and came to the pond. A hat was seen on the ice, near which was a fresh aperture. The bodies of the young gentlemen were soon found, but life was extinct. In this instance the sagacity of the dog was extraordinary. Had he possessed the power of speech, he could scarcely have communicated what had taken place more significantly than he did.

I have received the following anecdote from a friend, on whose veracity I can depend:--In the year 1816, a greyhound bitch in pup was sent from the neighbourhood of Edinburgh by a carrier, _via_ Dumfries, to the neighbourhood of Castle Douglas, in the stewartry of Kirkeudbright. She brought up her litter of pups there, and in the following year was returned by the same route to Edinburgh, from whence she was sent by way of Douglas and Muirkirk to the neighbourhood of Cumnock, in Ayrshire. After remaining there five or six months, she found her way across the country to the house near Castle Douglas where she had brought up her pups. The fact of her crossing the country was ascertained by shepherds, who saw her, accompanied by a pointer-dog. She arrived, accompanied by this dog, who left her almost immediately, and found his way home again. The bitch was bred in East Lothian, and had never been previously either in Ayrshire or Dumfriesshire.

A small Italian greyhound in Bologna, which used at nights to have a kind of jacket put on, to guard him from the cold, went out generally very early in the morning to a neighbouring house, to visit another dog of the same breed which lived there. He always endeavoured, by various coaxing gestures, to prevail upon the people of the house to take off his night-jacket, in order that he might play more at ease with his companion. It once happened, when he could not get any one to do him this service, that he found means, by various contortions of his body, rubbing himself against tables and chairs, and working with his limbs, to undress himself without any other assistance. After this trial had succeeded, he continued to practise it for some time, until his master discovered it, who after that undressed him every morning, and let him out of the house. At noon, and in the evening, he always returned home. Sometimes, when he made his morning call, he found the door of the house in which his friend dwelt not yet open. In these cases he placed himself opposite to the house, and by loud barking solicited admittance. But as the noise which he made became troublesome both to the inhabitants of the house and to the neighbours, they not only kept the door shut against him, but endeavoured also to drive him away from the house by throwing stones at him from the windows. He crept, however, so close to the door, that he was perfectly secure against the stones, and now they had to drive him away with a whip. After some time the dog went again to the house, and waited without barking till the door was opened. He was again driven away, upon which he discontinued his visits for a long time. At length, however, he ventured to go once more to the house, and set up a loud barking; placing himself in a situation where he was both secure against the stones, and could not be seized by the people of the house when they opened the door.

After a considerable time, he one morning saw a boy come to the house, lay hold of the knocker, and strike it against the door, and he observed that upon this process the door was opened. After the boy had been let in, the dog crept along the side of the house to the door, and took his station upon the spot where the boy had stood when he knocked, and where no one who stood close to the door could be seen from within. Here he leaped several times at the knocker, till he raised it and made it strike the door. A person from within immediately called, "Who is there?" but receiving no answer, opened the door, upon which the dog ran in with tokens of great delight, and soon found his way to his friend. Often after this he availed himself of the fortunate discovery which he had made, and his ingenuity was so much admired that it procured him thenceforward free access to his companion's habitation.

While on the subject of greyhounds, I cannot resist the insertion of the following account of one extracted from Froissart:--

When Richard II. was confined in the Castle of Flint, he possessed a greyhound, which was so remarkably attached to him, as not to notice or fawn upon any one else. Froissart says,--"It was informed me Kynge Richard had a grayhounde, called Mathe, who always waited upon the kynge, and would know no one else. For whenever the kynge did ryde, he that kept the grayhounde did let him lose, and he wolde streyght runne to the kynge and fawne upon him, and leape with his fore-fete upon the kynge's shoulders. And as the kynge and the Erle of Derby talked togyder in the courte, the grayhounde, who was wont to leape upon the kynge, left the kynge and came to the Erle of Derby, duke of Lancaster, and made to hym the same friendly countenance and chere he was wont to do the kynge. The Duke, who knew not the grayhounde, demanded of the kynge what the grayhounde would do. 'Cosin,' quod the kynge, 'it is a great good token to you, and an evil sygne to me.' 'Sir, how know ye that?' quod the duke. 'I know it well,' quod the kynge: 'the grayhounde maketh you chere this daye as kynge of Englande, as ye shall be, and I shall be deposed; the grayhounde hath this knowledge naturally, therefore take hym to you: he will follow you and forsake me.' The duke understoode well those words, and cheryshed the grayhounde, who would never after followe Kynge Richarde, but followed the Duke of Lancaster." It is not, however, improbable, that the dog thus mentioned was the Irish wolf-dog, as the fact related is more characteristic of that noble animal.

The mild, affable, and serene aspect of the greyhound, constitutes no drawback to its innate sagacity, or grateful attention to its protector, of which the unfortunate king Charles I. was so observant, that the remark he made during his troubles is on record, and strictly just as applicable to the instinctive fidelity of the animal. He said the greyhound possessed all the good nature of the spaniel without the fawning.

Washington Irving mentions, that in the course of his reading he had fallen in with the following anecdote, which illustrates in a remarkable manner the devoted attachment of these dogs to their masters:--

"An officer named St. Leger, who was imprisoned in Vincennes (near Paris) during the wars of St. Bartholomew, wished to keep with him a greyhound that he had brought up, and which was much attached to him; but they harshly refused him this innocent pleasure, and sent away the greyhound to his house in the Rue des Lions Saint Paul. The next day the greyhound returned alone to Vincennes, and began to bark under the windows of the tower, where the officer was confined. St. Leger approached, looked through the bars, and was delighted again to see his faithful hound, who began to jump and play a thousand gambols to show her joy. He threw a piece of bread to the animal, who ate it with great good will; and, in spite of the immense wall which separated them, they breakfasted together like two friends. This friendly visit was not the last. Abandoned by his relations, who believed him dead, the unfortunate prisoner received the visits of his greyhound only, during four years' confinement. Whatever weather it might be, in spite of rain or snow, the faithful animal did not fail a single day to pay her accustomed visit. Six months after his release from prison St. Leger died. The faithful greyhound would no longer remain in the house; but on the day after the funeral returned to the castle of Vincennes, and it is supposed she was actuated by a motive of gratitude. A jailor of the outer court had always shown great kindness to this dog, which was as handsome as affectionate. Contrary to the custom of people of that class, this man had been touched by her attachment and beauty, so that he facilitated her approach to see her master, and also insured her a safe retreat. Penetrated with gratitude for this service, the greyhound remained the rest of her life near the benevolent jailor. It was remarked, that even while testifying her zeal and gratitude for her second master, one could easily see that her heart was with the first. Like those who, having lost a parent, a brother, or a friend, come from afar to seek consolation by viewing the place which they inhabited, this affectionate animal repaired frequently to the tower where St. Leger had been imprisoned, and would contemplate for hours together the gloomy window from which her dear master had so often smiled to her, and where they had so frequently breakfasted together."

The natural simplicity and peaceable demeanour of the greyhound may have sometimes induced a doubt of its possessing the sagacity, fidelity, and attachment of other dogs; but when he is kindly treated and domesticated, he is capable of showing them to an equal degree with any of the canine race.

Some of the best coursing in England takes place on the Wiltshire Downs, where it is no uncommon sight to see a hare run away from two good dogs without a single turn. Nearly three hundred years ago, Sir Philip Sidney referred to this sport on the Wiltshire Downs in one of his poems, in which he remarks:--

"So, on the downs we see, near Wilton fair,
A hasten'd hare from greedy greyhounds go."

The following account of the Persian greyhound appeared in the "Book of Sports:"--

"The Persian greyhound is much esteemed in its native country, where the nobles, who are excessively fond of the chase, keep a great number of them at a considerable expense, the best and most favoured dogs frequently having their collars and housings covered with precious stones and embroidery.

"These greyhounds are employed in coursing hares in the plains, and in chasing the antelope. As the speed of the antelope is greater than that of the greyhound, the Persians train hawks for the purpose of assisting the dog in this kind of chase. The hawks when young are fed upon the head of a stuffed antelope, and thus taught to fly at that part of the animal. When the antelope is discovered, the hawk is cast off, which, fastening its talons in the animal's head, impedes its progress, and thus enables the greyhounds to overtake it. The chase, however, in which the Persians chiefly delight, and for which those greyhounds are most highly valued, is that of the ghoo-khur, or wild ass. This animal, which generally inhabits the mountainous districts, is extremely shy, and of great endurance, and is considered by the Persians as one of the swiftest of all quadrupeds. These qualities, and the nature of the ground over which it is usually chased, render the capture of the wild ass very uncertain, and its pursuit extremely hazardous to the sportsman.