Chapter XII: Part 12

"When the Persians go out to hunt the wild ass, relays of greyhounds are placed at various distances in the surrounding country, in such directions as are most likely to be traversed by the object of pursuit; so that when one relay is tired, there is another fresh to continue the chase. Such, however, is the speed and endurance of the ghoo-khur, that it is seldom fairly run down by the greyhounds; its death generally being achieved by the rifle of some lucky horseman. The Persians evince great skill and courage in this arduous sport; riding, rifle in hand, up and down precipitous hills, over stony paths, and across ravines and mountain streams, which might well daunt our boldest turf-skimming Meltonians.

"Though several Persian greyhounds have at different times been brought to this country, the breed can scarcely be considered as established here. The specimen, however, (a female), from which Mr. Hamilton painted the picture from which our engraving is taken, was bred in this country. She was then supposed to be the only Persian greyhound bitch in England."

The Persian greyhound is very handsome. "One of the finest species of dog I have ever seen," says an interesting writer, "is a sort of greyhound which the Persians rear to assist them in the chase. They have generally long silken hair upon their quarters, shoulders, ears, and tail; and I think them as handsome, and considerably more powerful and sagacious, than our own greyhounds. I have sometimes seen a spirited horse break loose, and run away at full speed, when one of these dogs has set after him like an arrow, and soon getting ahead of him, taken an opportunity of seizing the bridle in his teeth, which he held so firmly, that though he was not strong enough to stop the horse, yet, as he was dragged along, he continued to pull and confine the horse, so as to impede him very much, till some person was able to overtake and secure him."

Col. Hutchinson says, that "In Persia and many parts of the East greyhounds are taught to assist the falcon in the capture of deer. When brought within good view of a herd the bird is flown, and at the same moment the dog is slipped. The rapid sweep of the falcon soon carries him far in advance. It is the falcon who makes the selection of the intended victim--which appears to be a matter of chance--and a properly-trained greyhound will give chase to none other, however temptingly close the alarmed animals may pass him. The falcon is instructed to aim at the head only of the gazelle, who soon becomes bewildered; sometimes receiving considerable injury from the quick stroke of its daring adversary. Before long the gazelle is overtaken by the greyhound. It is not always easy to teach a dog to avoid injuring the bird, which is so intent upon its prey as utterly to disregard the approach of the hound. Death would probably be the penalty adjudged to him for so heinous an offence; for a well-trained falcon is of great value. You can readily imagine that neither it nor the greyhound could be properly broken unless the instructor possessed much judgment and perseverance. The sport is very exciting; but the spectator must be well-mounted, and ride boldly, who would closely watch the swift, varying evolutions of the assailing party, and the sudden evasions of the helpless defendant."

THE POINTER.

"The subtle dog scours with sagacious nose
Along the field, and snuffs each breeze that blows;
Against the wind he takes his prudent way,
While the strong gale directs him to the prey.
Now the warm scent assures the covey near;
He treads with caution, and he points with fear.
The fluttering coveys from the stubble rise,
And on swift wing divide the sounding skies;
The scatt'ring lead pursues the certain sight,
And death in thunder overtakes their flight."--GAY.

This dog has been crossed and re-crossed so often with the fox-hound, the setter, and the old Spanish pointer, that the originality of the present breed may be questioned, especially as the pointer has been less noticed by writers on dogs than any other of the species. How well do I recollect in my early youth seeing the slow, heavy, solemn-looking, and thick-shouldered Spanish pointer, tired with two or three hours' work in turnips, and so stiff after it the next day, as to be little capable of resuming his labours. And yet this dog, fifty years ago, was to be met with all through England. How different is the breed at the present time! By crossing with the fox-hound, they have acquired wonderful speed, and a power of endurance equally surprising, while their shape is beautiful and their sense and animation strongly marked in their intelligent countenances.

The old pointers were either nearly white or variegated with large liver-coloured patches. We now see them either completely liver-coloured, or of a flea-bitten blue or grey, or else black, with fine sterns showing much blood, and extremely thin ears. There can be no doubt but that the crosses by which they have obtained the qualities and appearance I have mentioned, render the task of breaking them in to point, back, and drop to charge, one of no small difficulty. These habits, having been acquired in the original breed, had probably become hereditary; but the mixture with dogs which had not these inherent qualities, has introduced volatility and impatience not easily to be overcome. It is also a fact, that if a pointer, notwithstanding this disposition, should at last become perfectly well broke in, or, as it is called, highly broke, he loses much of his natural sagacity. His powers of endurance are, however, very great. A friend of mine, an ardent sportsman, had a pointer crossed with a foxhound, and it was the only one he had. Day after day he took this dog out with him, from day-break till late in the evening, and he never flagged or showed fatigue. It was calculated that he could not traverse less than one hundred and twenty miles each day. This dog showed extraordinary sagacity. While hunting in a large fallow field he made a point, and then slowly and cautiously proceeded, closely followed by his master. In this way he led him over a good part of the field, till it was supposed the dog was drawing on the scent of a hare, which had stolen away. At last he set off running as hard as he could, made a large circuit to the left, and then came to a point immediately opposite to his master, who then advanced and put up a covey of birds between him and the dog.

The following is a proof of the perfection to which pointers may be brought. The friend above referred to went out shooting with a gentleman celebrated for the goodness of his breed. They took the field with eight of these dogs. If one pointed, all the rest immediately backed steadily. If a partridge was shot, they all dropped to charge, and whichsoever dog was called to bring the bird, the rest never stirred till they were told to do so. Dogs thus broke in are of great value, and bring large prices; from fifty to a hundred guineas have been given for a good dog.

Pointers frequently show extraordinary sense, especially in their own peculiar vocation. Thus a pointer has been known to refuse to hunt for a person who had previously missed every bird the dog had found. He left him with every mark of disgust, nor could any coaxing induce him to continue with his unsportsman-like companion.

Three pointers were taken out grouse-shooting in Ireland. They were all of the same breed, or rather nearly related to each other, one being the grandmother, the other her daughter, and the third her granddaughter. The latter, who could get over the ground quicker than the others, put up first one pack of grouse, and then another, for which faults she was flogged again and again. Having done the same thing the third time, the steady old grandmother was so provoked, that she ran at the culprit, knocked her over and over, and did not cease to attack her till she had driven her home. The authenticity of this anecdote need not be doubted. It is a proof of the extraordinary sense of a dog, and is corroborated by a fact already mentioned in the introductory remarks (p. 33), of one dog attacking another for having misconducted himself.

Some very bad shots went out partridge-shooting, attended by a very good, old, steady pointer. After shooting for some hours with very little success, they began to amuse themselves by firing at a piece of paper stuck on a post. The disgust of the old dog at this proceeding may be imagined--he ran home.

In further proof of the dislike a pointer will show to a bad shot, I will adduce the following anecdote mentioned by Captain Brown. A gentleman, on his requesting the loan of a pointer-dog from a friend, was informed by him that the dog would behave very well so long as he could kill his birds; but if he frequently missed them, it would run home and leave him. The dog was sent, and the following day was fixed for trial; but, unfortunately, his new master was a remarkably bad shot. Bird after bird rose and was fired at, but still pursued its flight untouched, till, at last, the pointer became careless, and often missed his game. As if seemingly willing, however, to give one chance more, he made a dead stop at a fern-bush, with his nose pointed downward, the fore-foot bent, and his tail straight and steady. In this position he remained firm till the sportsman was close to him, with both barrels cocked, then moving steadily forward for a few paces, he at last stood still near a bunch of heather, the tail expressing the anxiety of the mind by moving regularly backwards and forwards. At last out sprung a fine old blackcock. Bang, bang, went both barrels, but the bird escaped unhurt. The patience of the dog was now quite exhausted; and, instead of dropping to charge, he turned boldly round, placed his tail between his legs, gave one howl, long and loud, and set off as fast as he could to his own home.

I have seen a pointer leap on the top of a high gate, in going from one field to another, and remain steadily there till I came up to him. He had suddenly come on the scent of birds, and made his point from his uncomfortable situation on the gate. Captain Brown also relates a nearly similar instance of the stanchness of a pointer, which he received from a friend of his. This gentleman was shooting in Scotland, when one of his dogs, in going over a stone wall, about four feet high, got the scent of some birds on the other side of the wall, just as she made the leap. She hung by her fore-legs, appearing at a distance as if they had got fastened among the stones, and that she could not extricate herself. In this position she remained until her master came up. It was then evident that it was her caution for fear of flushing some birds on the other side of the wall, which prevented her from taking the leap, or rather, which was the cause of her making this extraordinary point.

Mr. Daniel, in his "Rural Sports," mentions the circumstance of two pointers having stood at one point an hour and a quarter, while an artist took a sketch of them.

A dog of the pointer kind, brought from South Carolina in an English merchant vessel, was a remarkable prognosticator of bad weather. Whenever he was observed to prick up his ears, scratch the deck, and rear himself to look to the windward, whence he would eagerly snuff up the wind, if it was then the finest weather imaginable, the crew were sure of a tempest succeeding; and the dog became so useful, that whenever they perceived the fit upon him, they immediately reefed the sails, and took in their spare canvas, to prepare for the worst. Other animals are prognosticators of weather also; and there is seldom a storm at sea, but it is foretold by some of the natural marine barometers on board, many hours before the gale.

The following circumstance serves also to prove the extreme stanchness of a pointer. It is related by Captain Brown:--

"A servant who used to shoot for Mr. Clutterbuck of Bradford, had, on one occasion, a pointer of this gentleman's, which afforded him an excellent day's sport. On returning, the night being dark, he dropped, by some chance, two or three birds out of his bag, and on coming home he missed them. Having informed a fellow-servant of his loss, he requested him to get up early the next morning, and seek for them near the turnpike, being certain that he had brought them as far as that place. The man accordingly went there, and not a hundred yards from the spot mentioned by his companion, he, to his surprise, found the pointer lying near the birds, and where he probably had remained all night, although the poor animal had been severely hunted the day before."

For the following instance of the sagacity of a pointer, I am indebted to Lord Stowell. Mr. Edward Cook, after having lived some time with his brother at Tugsten, in Northumberland, went to America, and took with him a pointer-dog, which he lost soon afterwards, while shooting in the woods near Baltimore. Some time after, Mr. and Mrs. Cook, who continued to reside at Tugsten, were alarmed at hearing a dog in the night. They admitted it into the house, and found that it was the same their brother had taken with him to America. The dog lived with them until his master returned home, when they mutually recognised each other. Mr. Cook was never able to trace by what vessel the dog had left America, or in what part of England it had been landed. This anecdote confirms others which I have already mentioned relative to dogs finding their way back to this country from considerable distances.

Lieutenant Shipp, in his Memoirs, mentions the case of a soldier in India, who, having presented his dog to an acquaintance, by whom he was taken a distance of four hundred miles, was surprised to see him back in a few days afterwards. When the faithful animal returned, he searched through the whole barracks for his master, and at length finding him asleep, he awoke him by licking his face.

Pointers have been known to go out by themselves for the purpose of finding game, and when they have succeeded, have returned to their master, and by significant signs and gestures have led them directly to the spot.

The mental faculties of pointers are extremely acute. When once they become conscious of their own powers, and of what is required of them, they seldom commit a fault, and do their duty with alacrity and devotion. Old pointers are apt to hunt the hedgerows of a field before they begin to quarter the ground. I have seen dogs severely rated and punished for doing this, but the cause is obvious. They are aware that game is more frequently to be found in hedgerows than in the open ground, and therefore very naturally take the readiest way of finding it.

An interesting exhibition of clever dogs took place in London in the summer of 1843, under the auspices of M. Leonard, a French gentleman of scientific attainments and enlightened character, who had for some years directed his attention to the reasoning powers of animals, and their cultivation. Two pointers, Braque and Philax, had been the especial objects of his instruction, and their intellectual capacities had been excited in an extraordinary degree. A writer in the "Atlas" newspaper thus speaks of the exhibition of these animals:--M. Leonard's dogs are not merely clever, well-taught animals, which, by dint of practice, can pick up a particular letter, or can, by a sort of instinct, indicate a number which may be asked for; they call into action powers which, if not strictly intellectual, approximate very closely to reason. For instance, they exert memory. Four pieces of paper were placed upon the floor, which the company numbered indiscriminately, 2, 4, 6, 8. The numbers were named but once, and yet the dogs were able to pick up any one of them at command, although they were not placed in regular order. The numbers were then changed, with a similar result. Again, different objects were placed upon the floor, and when a similar thing--say a glove--was exhibited, one or other of the animals picked it up immediately. The dogs distinguish colours, and, in short, appear to understand everything that is said to them.

The dog Braque plays a game of dominoes with any one who likes. We are aware that this has been done before; but when it is considered that it is necessary to distinguish the number of spots, it must be admitted that this requires the exercise of a power little inferior to reason. The dog sits on the chair with the dominoes before him, and when his adversary plays, he scans each of his dominoes with an air of attention and gravity which is perfectly marvellous. When he could not match the domino played, he became restless and shook his head, and gave other indications of his inability to do so. No human being could have paid more attention. The dog seemed to watch the game with deep interest, and what is more, he won.

Another point strongly indicative of the close approach to the reasoning powers, was the exactness with which the dogs obeyed an understood signal. It was agreed that when three blows were struck upon a chair, Philax should do what was requested; and when five were given, that the task should devolve on Braque. This arrangement was strictly adhered to. We do not intend to follow the various proofs which were afforded of the intelligence of the dogs; it is sufficient to say that a multiplicity of directions given to them were obeyed implicitly, and that they appeared to understand what their master said as well as any individual in the room.

M. Leonard entered into a highly-interesting explanation of his theory regarding the intellectual powers of animals, and the mode he adopts to train and subdue horses, exhibiting the defects of the system generally pursued. His principle is, that horses are not vicious by nature, but because they have been badly taught, and that, as with children, these defects may be corrected by proper teaching. M. Leonard does not enter into these inquiries for profit, but solely with a scientific and humane view, being desirous of investigating the extent of the reasoning powers of animals.

It does not appear possible that dogs should be educated to the extent of those of M. Leonard, unless we can suppose that they acquire a tolerably exact knowledge of language. That they in reality learn to know the meaning of certain words, not merely when addressed to them, but when spoken in ordinary conversation, is beyond a doubt; although the accompanying looks and movements in all likelihood help them in their interpretation. We have known a small spaniel, for instance, which thoroughly understood the meaning of "out," or "going out," when spoken in the most casual way in conversation. A lady of our acquaintance has a dog which lives at enmity with another dog in the neighbourhood, called York, and angrily barks when the word York is pronounced in his hearing.

A well-known angler was in the habit of being attended by a pointer-dog, who saved him the trouble of a landing-net in his trout-fishing excursions. When he had hooked a fish and brought it near the bank, the dog would be in readiness, and taking the fish behind the head, would bring it out to his master.

A writer, who endeavours to prove the existence of souls analogous to the human in animals, relates the following remarkable fact, of which he was himself an eye-witness. He says:--

"I was with a gentleman who resides in the country, in his study, when a pointer-dog belonging to him came running to the door of the room, which was shut, scratching and barking till he was admitted. He then used supplicating gestures of every kind, running from his master to the stair behind which his gun stood, then again to his master, and back to the gun. The gentleman now comprehended something of his dog's meaning, and took up his gun. The dog immediately gave a bark of joy, ran out at the door, returned, and then ran to the back-door of the house, from whence he took the road to a neighbouring hill.

"His master and I followed him. The dog ran, highly pleased, a little distance before us, showing us the way we should take. After we had proceeded about forty paces, he gave us to understand that we should turn to the left, by pressing repeatedly against his master, and pushing him towards the road that turned to the left. We followed his direction, and he accompanied us a few paces, but suddenly he turned to the right, running round the whole of the hill. We still proceeded to the left, slowly up the ascent, till we were nearly arrived at its summit, the dog in the meantime making the circuit of the hill to the right. He was now already higher than we were, when he gave a sudden bark, and that moment a hare ran before the muzzle of his master's gun, and, of course, met her fate."

A gentleman had a pointer so fleet that he often backed him to find birds in a ten-acre field within two minutes, if there were birds in it. On entering the field, he seemed to know by instinct where the birds would lie, generally going up to them at once. His nose was so good, that with a brisk wind, he would find his game a hundred and fifty yards off across the furrows. He could tell whether a bird was hit, and if so would retrieve it some fields off from where it was shot. He would never follow a hare unless it was wounded. He would point water-fowl as well as all birds of game, and has been seen pointing a duck or a moor-hen with the water running over his back at the time. Nothing seemed to spoil this dog, not even rat and otter hunting, in both of which he was an adept, as he knew his business; and although he would rattle through a wood, he was perfectly steady the next minute out of cover. He has been known to continue at a point two hours. In high turnips he would contrive to show his master where he was, standing sometimes on his hind legs only, so that his head and fore-quarters might be seen. On one occasion he came at full speed so suddenly on a hare, that he slipped up, and fell nearly on his back. In this position he did not move, and it was thought he was in a fit, till the hare jumped up and was killed, when the dog righted himself. So steady was he in backing another dog when game was found, that he once caught sight of a point at the moment of jumping a stile, and balanced himself on it for several seconds till he fell. Once when hunting with a young pointer, who had only been taken into the field two or three times, in order to show him some birds before the shooting season, the following occurrence took place. The old dog found some birds in the middle of the field, and pointed them steadily. The puppy had been jumping and gambolling about, with no great hunt in him, and upon seeing the old dog stand, ran playfully up to him. He was, however, seized by the neck, and received a good shaking, which sent him away howling, and his companion then turned round and steadied himself on his point, without moving scarcely a yard. This anecdote is extracted from Hone's "Year Book," and the writer of it goes on to say,--"What dog is there possessing the singular self-denial of the pointer or setter? The hound gives full play to his feelings; chases, and babbles, and kicks up as much riot as he likes, provided he is true to his game; the spaniel has no restraint, except being kept within gun-shot; the greyhound has it all his own way as soon as he is loosed; and the terrier watches at a rat's hole, because he cannot get into it: but the pointer, at the moment that other dogs satisfy themselves, and rush upon their game, suddenly stops, and points with almost breathless anxiety to that which we might naturally suppose he would eagerly seize. The birds seen, the dog creeps after them cautiously, stopping at intervals, lest by a sudden movement he should spring them too soon. And then let us observe and admire his delight when his anxiety--for it is anxiety--is crowned with success--when the bird falls, and he lays it joyfully at his master's feet. A pointer should never be ill-used. He is too much like one of us. He has more headpiece than all the rest of the dogs put together. Narrowly watch a steady pointer on his game, and see how he holds his breath. It is evident he must stand in a certain degree of pain, for we all know how quickly a dog respires. And when he comes up to you in the field he puffs and blows, and his tongue is invariably hanging out of his mouth. We never see this on a point, and to check it suddenly must give the dog pain. And yet, how silent he is! how eager he looks! and if a sudden hysteric gasp is heard, it ceases in a moment. Surely he is the most perfect artist of the canine race."

Some of my readers may like to know that the best breaker of pointers I have yet met with is Mr. Lucas, one of the keepers of Richmond Park. He perfectly understands his business, and turns out his pointers in a way which few can equal.

In August 1857, a gentleman residing at Ludlow, in Shropshire, had a pointer bitch, which produced seven puppies. Six of them were drowned, and one left. On the servant going the next morning to give her some milk, she found, besides the puppy, a hedgehog, which had been in the garden some years, most comfortably curled up with them. She took it away, but my informant being told that it had got back again, he went to see it. The pointer was licking it, and appeared quite as fond of it as of her own puppy. He again had it removed, the bitch following, and whining with evident anxiety to have it restored to her. This was the more remarkable, as on previous occasions she had tried to kill the hedgehog. This strange affection can only be accounted for by an abundant flow of milk, which distended and hurt her, occasioned by her other puppies having been destroyed, and she, therefore, seized on the hedgehog to relieve her, however incongruous it might be to her former feelings towards it.

THE SETTER.

The old English setter (says Capt. Brown), was originally derived from a cross between the Spanish pointer and the large water-spaniel, and was justly celebrated for his fine scent. It is difficult now to say what a setter really is, as the original breed has been crossed with springers, stag and blood-hounds. The Irish breed of setters is considered better than either the English or Scotch, and a fine brace has been frequently known to fetch fifty guineas. Youatt says that the setter is evidently the large spaniel improved in size and beauty, and taught to mark his game by setting or crouching. He is more active than the pointer, but has not so much patient steadiness. It is extremely difficult to decide between the merits of the setter and pointer as dogs for shooting over. Some authors prefer one, some the other. "Craven" says, that in his opinion Russian setters are better than English, in nose, sagacity, and every other qualification that a dog ought to possess.

Col. Hutchinson relates that he was "partridge-shooting the season before last with an intimate friend. The air was soft, and there was a good breeze. We came upon a large turnip-field, deeply trenched on account of its damp situation. A white setter, that habitually carried a lofty head, drew for awhile, and then came to a point. We got up to her. She led us across some ridges, when her companion, a jealous dog (a pointer), which had at first backed correctly, most improperly pushed on in front, but, not being able to acknowledge the scent, went off, clearly imagining the bitch was in error. She, however, held on, and in beautiful style brought us up direct to a covey. My friend and I agreed that she must have been but little, if at all, less than one hundred yards off when she first winded the birds; and it was clear to us that they could not have been running, for the breeze came directly across the furrows, and she had led us in the wind's eye. We thought the point the more remarkable, as it is generally supposed that the strong smell of turnips diminishes a dog's power of scenting birds."

The same able author says, that on one occasion when a near relation of his was shooting on the banks of the Forth, he killed a partridge that was flying across the river. As he had no retriever with him, he almost regretted having fired; but, to his surprise, his setter, Dove, jumped into the river, although she had never previously (to the writer's knowledge), attempted to swim, seized it, and deposited it safely on the bank. She never had retrieved before, and was not particularly good at "seeking dead."

"During my residence in the country," says M. Huet, "I had a gamekeeper who was very skilful in the art of training dogs. Among others of various kinds which he trained was a large old English setter, with which he had succeeded so well that he could use him both for hunting and shooting.

"This dog did always as much as could be done by any of his race, in whatever kind of sport he was employed; he even invented advantageous manoeuvres himself, which the gamekeeper affirmed he had never taught him.

"Once, after I had been already several hours returned from hunting with my people, the dog came running across the yard with a hare upon his back, which he held by the ear, so as to carry her in the most convenient manner to the kitchen from the considerable distance where he must have killed her.

"Upon another occasion he showed an extraordinary degree of judgment and fidelity. The gamekeeper had, on one of the short days of December, shot at and wounded a deer. Hoping to run him down before night, he instantly put the dog upon the track, which followed it at full speed, and soon was out of sight. At length it grew dark, and the gamekeeper returned home, thinking he should find the setter arrived there before him; but he was disappointed, and became apprehensive that his dog might have lost himself, or fallen a prey to some ravenous animal. The next morning, however, we were all greatly rejoiced to see him come running into the yard, whence he directly hastened to the door of my apartment, and, on being admitted, ran, with gestures expressive of solicitude and eagerness, to a corner of the room where guns were placed. We understood the hint, and, taking the guns, followed him. He led us not by the road which he himself had taken out of the wood, but by beaten paths half round it, and then by several wood-cutters' tracks in different directions, to a thicket, where, following him a few paces, we found the deer which he had killed. The dog seems to have rightly judged that we should have been obliged to make our way with much difficulty through almost the whole length of the wood, in order to come to the deer in a straight direction, and he therefore led us a circuitous but open and convenient road. Between the legs of the deer, which he had guarded during the night against the beasts of prey that might otherwise have seized upon it, he had scratched a hole in the snow, and filled it with dry leaves for his bed. The extraordinary sagacity which he had displayed upon this occasion rendered him doubly valuable to us, and it therefore caused us very serious regret when, in the ensuing summer, the poor animal went mad, possibly in consequence of his exposure to the severe frost of that night, and it became necessary for the gamekeeper to shoot him, which he could not do without shedding tears. He said he would willingly have given his best cow to save him; and I confess myself that I would not have hesitated to part with my best horse upon the same terms."

Mr. Torry, of Edinburgh, had a setter bitch which possessed great powers, and especially in finding lost articles, as she would, whenever she was desired, go in search of anything. On one occasion his servant lost a favourite whip in the middle of a moor, and he did not discover or make known this loss till they were about a mile distant from the spot where it was dropped. Mr. Torry ordered the servant to go back and bring it, as he stated he was quite certain of the spot where he had dropped it; but after searching for nearly an hour, the servant returned and said he could not recover it, upon which Mr. Torry told his setter to go back for the whip. She started off instantly, and in less than five minutes the lost article was at his feet.

The same dog did a great many other curious things: she would ring the bell, fetch her master's slippers, or bring his youngest son, when required to do so, from another room; which last she effected by taking hold of his pinafore with her mouth, and running before him sideways to his master's chair.

A large setter, ill with the distemper, had been most tenderly nursed by a lady for three weeks. At length he became so weak as to be placed on a bed, where he remained three days in a dying situation. After a short absence, the lady, on re-entering the room, observed him to fix his eyes attentively on her, and make an effort to crawl across the bed towards her. This he accomplished evidently for the sole purpose of licking her hands, which, having done, he expired without a groan. "I am," says Mr. Blaine, "as convinced that the animal was sensible of his approaching dissolution, and that this was a last forcible effort to express his gratitude for the care taken of him, as I am of my own existence; and had I witnessed this proof of excellence alone, I should think a life devoted to the amelioration of the condition of dogs far too little for their deserts."

There is a curious and interesting anecdote related of a setter who had formed a great friendship with a cat. They were, in fact, inseparable companions, and evidently had a great love for each other. As a sporting dog the setter had few equals, but he constantly showed his disgust when obliged to accompany a bad shot into the fields. After one of the shooting seasons was over, his master took a house in London, and carried his setter with him, who was seated with the footman on the box of the carriage. It appears that the dog had not forgotten his favourite, the cat, for he disappeared from the house, and was absent for some days. He at length returned to his master's house in the country, and brought back the cat with him. How he contrived to find his way backwards and forward, and how he persuaded the cat to accompany him, are mysteries which it would be useless to attempt to solve. The fact, however, would seem to be satisfactorily vouched for.

Setters are known to be subject to strange freaks. A gentleman had one which he had shot to for three years. Upon one occasion he took the dog out, and fired seven or eight times at birds the dog had found him; but having missed them all, the animal returned home, evidently disgusted. In the evening his owner took him out again and killed every shot, which procured a reconciliation between the dog and its master.

The late Dr. Hugh Smith related the following circumstance of a setter dog, and maintained that a bitch and a dog may fall passionately in love with each other. As the doctor was travelling from Midhurst into Hampshire, the dogs, as usual in country places, ran out barking as he was passing through a village; and amongst them he observed a little ugly mongrel, that was particularly eager to ingratiate himself with a setter bitch that accompanied him. Whilst stopping to water his horse, he remarked how amorous the mongrel continued, and how courteous the setter seemed to her admirer. Provoked to see a creature of Dido's high blood so obsequious to such mean addresses, the doctor drew one of his pistols and shot the dog; he then had the bitch carried on horseback for several miles. From that day, however, she lost her appetite, ate little or nothing, had no inclination to go abroad with her master, or attend to his call, but seemed to repine like a creature in love, and express sensible concern for the loss of her gallant. Partridge season came, but Dido had no nose. Some time after she was coupled to a setter of great excellence, which with no small difficulty had been procured to get a breed from, and all the caution which even the doctor himself could take was strictly exerted, that the whelps might be pure and unmixed; yet not a puppy did Dido bring forth but what was the picture and colour of the mongrel that he had so many months before destroyed. The doctor fumed, and, had he not personally paid such attention to preserve the intercourse uncontaminated, would have suspected that some negligence had occasioned this disappointment; but his views were in many subsequent litters also defeated, for Dido never produced a whelp which was not exactly similar to the unfortunate dog which was her first and murdered lover.

This anecdote may appear strange or untrue to some people; but it is an undoubted fact, and in some degree corroborates Dr. Smith's account that the late Sir Gore Ouseley had a Persian mare which produced her first foal by a zebra in Scotland. She was afterwards a brood-mare in England, and had several foals, every one of which had the zebra's stripes on it. That the force of imagination influences some brutes cannot be doubted. A gentleman had a small spaniel which had one of her legs broken when pregnant. When she littered, one of the whelps had one of her hind legs broken--the limb was contracted--a perfect callus formed, in everything resembling the leg of the dam.

Setters are difficult to break; but when well broken are invaluable as sporting dogs, for they will work all day if they can occasionally find water. John Dudley, duke of Northumberland, is said to have been the first that broke a setter dog to the net, about the year 1555.

Col. Hutchinson says that a French lady, who is fond of animals, at his request committed the following anecdote to paper:--

"My dear Medor, a beautiful red-and-white setter, was remarkable, I am told, for many rare qualities as a sporting dog; but, of course, none of these could be compared, in _my_ eyes, to his faithfulness and sagacity. I looked upon him as a friend; and I know that our affection was mutual. I could mention several instances of his intelligence--I might say, reflection; but one in particular gave me such delight that, though years have since passed away, all the circumstances are as fresh in my memory as if they had occurred but yesterday. I was returning from school at Versailles; and having rang uselessly for a little time at the front door, I went round to the carriage-gate to have a chat with my silky-haired favourite. He barked anxiously, thrust his cold nose through an opening near the ground, scratched vigorously to increase its size, and in numerous ways testified great joy at again hearing my voice. I put my hand under the gate to caress him; and while he was licking it, I said in jest, but in a distinct, loud voice, 'Dear Medor, I am shut out--go, bring me the keys.' It so happened that the stable where they usually hung was not closed. Medor ran off, and in a few seconds returned and placed them in my hands. I will not attempt to describe _my_ gratification at such a striking proof of his intelligence, nor _his_ evident pride at seeing me enter the hall, nor yet the fright of the servant at thinking how long the street-door must have been carelessly left open. 'Medor deserves that his life should be written,' said I to my uncle, when afterwards telling him the whole story; 'I am sure his deeds are as wonderful as those related of the 'Chiens celebres' by De Freville.'

"My setter was immediately declared 'Keeper of the Keys,' and forthwith invested with all the rights of office. Nor was this confidence misplaced. He would never give up his charge to any one but to my uncle or myself; and always seemed fully sensible of the dignity and responsibility of his new position."

Tolfrey gives, in his "Sportsman in France," so beautiful an instance of a setter's untutored intelligence leading him to see the advantage of placing running birds between himself and the gun, that I will relate it.

"On gaining some high ground, the dog drew and stood. She was walked up to, but to my astonishment we found no birds. She was encouraged, and with great difficulty coaxed off her point. She kept drawing on, but with the same ill success.

"I must confess I was for the moment sorely puzzled; but knowing the excellence of the animal, I let her alone. She kept drawing on for nearly a hundred yards--still no birds. At last, of her own accord, and with a degree of instinct amounting almost to the faculty of reason, she broke from her point, and dashing off to the right made a _detour_, and was presently straight before me, some three hundred yards off, setting the game whatever it might be, as much as to say, 'I'll be ---- if you escape me this time.' We walked steadily on; and when within about thirty yards of her, up got a covey of red-legged partridges, and we had the good fortune to kill a brace each.

"It is one of the characteristics of these birds to run for an amazing distance before they take wing; but the sagacity of my faithful dog baffled all their efforts to escape. We fell in with several coveys of these birds during the day, and my dog ever after gave them the double, and kept them between the gun and herself."

THE PUG DOG.

"My pug makes a bad pet; he is useless in the field, is somewhat
snappish, has little sagacity, and is very cowardly: but there is
an air of _bon ton_ about him which renders him a fashionable
appendage to a fine lady."--_Parisian Gossip._

Pugs came into fashion, and probably first into this country, in the early part of the reign of William the Third, and were then called Dutch pugs. At that time they were generally decorated with orange ribbons, and were in great request amongst the courtiers, from the king being very partial to them.

It is difficult to say how this partiality arose, though it may perhaps be accounted for by the following anecdote, related in a scarce old book, called "Sir Roger Williams' Actions in the Low Countries," printed in 1618.

"The Prince of Orange (father of William III.) being retired into the camp, Julian Romero, with earnest persuasions, procured license of the Duke D'Alva to hazard a _camisado_, or night attack, upon the prince. At midnight Julian sallied out of the trenches with a thousand armed men, mostly pikes, who forced all the guards that they found in their way into the place of arms before the Prince's tent, and killed two of his secretaries. The Prince himself escaped very narrowly, for I have often heard him say that he thought but for a dog he should have been taken or slain. The attack was made with such resolution, that the guards took no alarm until their fellows were running to the place of arms, with their enemies at their heels, when this dog, hearing a great noise, fell to scratching and crying, and awakened him before any of his men; and though the Prince slept armed, with a lacquey always holding one of his horses ready bridled and saddled, yet, at the going out of his tent, with much ado he recovered his horse before the enemy arrived. Nevertheless, one of his equerries was slain taking horse presently after him, as were divers of his servants. The Prince, to show his gratitude, until his dying day kept one of that dog's race, and so did many of his friends and followers. These animals were not remarkable for their beauty, being little white dogs, with crooked noses, called _Camuses_ (flat-nosed)."

It is difficult to account for the origin of this breed of dogs. So far from having any of the courage of the bulldog, which they resemble somewhat in miniature, they are extremely cowardly. They are also occasionally treacherous in their disposition, and will take strong dislikes to particular persons.

The passion of the late Lady Penrhyn for pugs was well known. Two of these, a mother and daughter, were in the eating-room of Penrhyn Castle during the morning call of a lady, who partook of luncheon. On bonnets and shawls being ordered for the purpose of taking a walk in the grounds, the oldest dog jumped on a chair, and looked first at a cold fowl, and then at her daughter. The lady remarked to Lady Penrhyn that they certainly had a design on the tray. The bell was therefore rung, and a servant ordered to take it away. The instant the tray disappeared, the elder pug, who had previously played the agreeable with all her might to the visitor, snarled and flew at her, and during the whole walk followed her, growling and snapping at her heels whenever opportunity served. The dog certainly went through two or three links of inference, from the disappearance of the coveted spoil to Lady Penrhyn's order, and from Lady Penrhyn's order to the remark made by her visitor.

Monsieur Blaze, in his "History of Dogs," mentions one who was taught to pronounce several words. The editor of the "Dumfries Courier" has declared most solemnly that he "heard a pug repeatedly pronounce the word 'William,' almost as distinctly as ever it was enunciated by the human voice. He saw the dog lying on a rug before the fire, when one of his master's sons, whose name is William, and to whom he is more obedient than to any one else, happened to give him a shove, when the animal ejaculated, for the first time, the word 'William.' The whole party were as much amazed as Balsam was when his ass spoke; and though they could hardly believe their own ears, one of them exclaimed, 'Could you really find it in your heart to hurt the poor dog after he has so distinctly pronounced your name?' This led to a series of experiments, which have been repeated for the satisfaction of various persons, but still the animal performs with difficulty. When his master seizes his fore-legs, and commands him to say 'William,' he treats the hearer With a gurring voluntary; and after this species of music has been protracted for a longer or a shorter period, his voice seems to fall a full octave before he comes out with the important word."

In the "Bibliotheque Germanique," published in 1720, there is an account of a dog at Berlin, who was made to pronounce a few words, but the one which he ejaculated most distinctly was "Elizabeth." Sir William Gell also had a dog which was well known to repeat some words, but it should be mentioned that he never did this except his master held his jaws in a peculiar way.[R]

It has been said of the pug dog that he is applicable to no sport, appropriated to no useful purpose, susceptible of no predominant passion, and in no way remarkable for any pre-eminent quality. He seems, indeed, intended to be the patient follower of a ruminating philosopher, or the adulatory and consolatory companion of an old maid; but is now gradually becoming discarded as a pet, and is seldom seen peeping out of a carriage window or basking in a London balcony.

The Comforter, of which a portrait is given at the head of the present chapter, is a rare and beautiful little dog, apparently a cross between the Maltese and King Charles spaniel. His colour is generally white, with black or brown patches; his ears are long, and his head broad on the upper part, with an acute muzzle; the hair is long over the whole body, with the fore legs feathered; his tail is curled, and feathered with very long hairs. This is the smallest of any of the distinct races of dogs, and is frequently not above a foot from the tip of the nose to the point of the tail.

THE TURNSPIT.

How well do I recollect, in the days of my youth, watching the operations of a turnspit at the house of a worthy old Welsh clergyman in Worcestershire, who taught me to read. He was a good man, wore a bushy wig, black worsted stockings, and large plated buckles in his shoes. As he had several boarders, as well as day-scholars, his two turnspits had plenty to do. They were long-bodied, crooked-legged, and ugly dogs, with a suspicious, unhappy look about them, as if they were weary of the task they had to do, and expected every moment to be seized upon to perform it. Cooks in those days, as they are said to be at present, were very cross, and if the poor animal, wearied with having a larger joint than usual to turn, stopped for a moment, the voice of the cook might be heard rating him in no very gentle terms. When we consider that a large solid piece of beef would take at least three hours before it was properly roasted, we may form some idea of the task a dog had to perform in turning a wheel during that time. A pointer has pleasure in finding game, the terrier worries rats with considerable glee, the greyhound pursues hares with eagerness and delight, and the bull-dog even attacks bulls with the greatest energy, while the poor turnspit performs his task by compulsion, like a culprit on a tread-wheel, subject to scolding or beating if he stops a moment to rest his weary limbs, and is then kicked about the kitchen when the task is over. There is a story (it is an old one) of the Bath turnspits, who were in the habit of collecting together in the abbey church of that town during divine service. It is said, but I will not vouch for the truth of the story, that hearing one day the word "spit," which occurred in the lesson for the day, they all ran out of the church in the greatest hurry, evidently associating the word with the task they had to perform.

These dogs are still used in Germany, and her Majesty has two or three of them amongst her collection of these quadrupeds. They are extremely bandy-legged, so as to appear almost incapable of running, with long bodies and rather large heads. They are very strong in the jaws, and are what are called hard-bitten. It is a peculiarity in these dogs that they generally have the iris of one eye black and the other white. Their colour varies, but the usual one is a bluish grey, spotted with black. The tail is generally curled on the back.