Part 8

In passing over a number of dogs mentioned by Colonel Smith, concerning which I have no data for anecdotes, I pause for a moment at the drover, or cattle-dog of Cuba, and Terra Firma, in America, placed by him among the native dogs, (Canis Laniarius), because they are so serviceable in landing cattle from vessels. The oxen are hoisted out by slings passed round the base of their horns; and when they are allowed to fall into the water, men generally swim and guide them by the horns. This office, however, is often performed by one or two dogs, who, catching the frightened animal by the ears, force it to swim to the landing-place, instantly releasing it when it touches the shore, and can walk to its destination. They are equal to mastiffs in strength; and Colonel Smith considers them as the feral dogs of St. Domingo, in continued domesticity, and to have been taken from Spain to the West.

Elegance of form, grace of movement, beauty of countenance, extraordinary swiftness, and great strength; are all combined in the Greyhound, as recorded during the last three thousand years; and continued at the present moment, in various degrees, from the noble sporting dog, to the delicate pet of the drawing-room. The narrow, sharp head, the light, half hanging ears, the long neck, the arched back, the slender yet sinewy limbs, the deep chest, shewing the high development of the breathing organs, and the elevated hind quarters, all shadow forth the peculiar qualities of these dogs. Their coat has been adapted to the climate in which they originally lived: here it is smooth; but becomes more shaggy as they are from colder regions. Still their Eastern origin is always to be detected by the care which they require during our winters; and (like the Arab horses) those kept for coursing are muffled up in cloths during our periods of cold temperature. Their form, their clear, prominent eyes, shew that they secure their prey by speed, not by smell, and such is their power in this respect, that they will run eight miles in twelve minutes, and will run down the hare with fatigue, while they themselves are comparatively fresh. Colonel Smith fixes their earliest origin to the westward of the Asiatic mountains, where the Bactrian and Persian plains commence, and the Scythian steppes stretch to the north. Thence they have been spread over Europe, Asia, and part of Africa, many have again become wild, and others are the pampered dependents of amateur sportsmen. Many Russian noblemen keep packs of them in the Steppes.

The Scotch greyhound (Cania Scoticus), generally white, with black clouds, is said to be the most intellectual of all, and formerly to have had so good a scent, as to be employed as a blood-hound. Maida, whose name is immortalized as the favourite of Sir Walter Scott, was a Scottish greyhound.

The Irish is the largest of all the western breeds, and is supposed to owe this distinction to mingling with the great Danish dog. To it Ireland owes the extirpation of wolves, and itself now scarcely exists but in name.

An instance is recorded of a black greyhound, in Lancashire, who adopted a life of freedom, and lived upon depredation. Many attempts were made to shoot her, but she eluded them all; she was at last ensnared in a barn, where she had placed her puppies; they were destroyed, and she partially reclaimed, so as to be useful in coursing; but she always retained that wild look which told of her frolic. A Mr. Kirkpatrick possessed a greyhound which always took care of the meat in the kitchen, and defended it from cats and other dogs.

The rough, large-boned, ill-looking Lurcher, is said to have descended from the rough greyhound and the shepherd's dog. It is now rare, but there are some of its sinister-looking mongrel progeny still to be seen. They always bear the reputation of being poachers' dogs, and are deeply attached to their owners. They have a fine scent; and a man confessed to Mr. Bewick, that he could, with his pair of lurchers, procure as many rabbits as he pleased. They never give tongue, but set about their work silently and cautiously, and hunt hares and partridges, driving the latter into the nets of the unlawful sportsmen. They will even pull down deer.

There are still many English hearts which beat quicker at the cry of the hound; there are some old ones which throb at the recollection of the well-appointed field, when the bugle summoned them to the chase, when gallant steeds carried them over gate, hedge, ditch, and river; they even glory when they refer to fearful tumbles, barely escaping with life, and some meeting with a death next in honour, according to their notions, to that of a soldier in action. There are some young ones who listen with entranced ears to the deeds of their forefathers, and amidst the toil of the dark counting-house, wish that such times could come for them. They never will come again; railroads have been invented, men's minds have been diverted into other channels; and fox-hunting, with its concomitant evils and its attendant pleasures, is gradually disappearing from fox-hunting England. Some, on whom the spirit of Nimrod has descended with such force, as to render them impatient under the privation, go to distant lands, and there perform feats worthy of the mighty hunter; but it is neither with hawk nor hound, and before many generations have passed, our beautiful race of hunting dogs will exist but in name.

There are more varieties of these hounds than I can here enumerate; but all possess a larger development of brain than the greyhound; their nose is broader, as well as their jaws; their ears are large and hanging; their tail is raised and truncated, and they have a firm, bold, and erect gait, an appearance of strength, independence, and (if I may be allowed to use the expression) candour, which is vainly looked for in other dogs. They came to us from the East, probably at a later period than those dogs which more resemble the wolf.

The once-esteemed Blood-hound is now rare, and I copy Mr. Bell's description of the breed, in possession of his namesake:--"They stand twenty-eight inches high at the shoulder; the muzzle broad and full, the upper lip large and pendulous, the vertex of the head protuberant, the expression stern, thoughtful, and noble; the breast broad; the limbs strong and muscular, and the original colour a deep tan, with large black clouds. They are silent when following their scent; and in this respect differ from other hounds, who are generally gifted with fine, deep voices. Numbers, under the name of sleuth-hounds, used to be kept on the Borders, and kings and troopers, perhaps equally marauders, have, in olden times, found it difficult to evade them. The noble Bruce had several narrow escapes from them, and the only sure way to destroy their scent was to spill blood upon the track. In all the common routine of life they are good-natured and intelligent, and make excellent watch-dogs. A story is related of a nobleman, who, to make trial whether a young hound was well instructed, desired one of his servants to walk to a town four miles off, and then to a market-town, three miles from thence. The dog, without seeing the man he was to pursue, followed him by the scent to the above mentioned places, notwithstanding the multitude of market people that went along the same road, and of travellers that had occasion to come; and when the blood-hound came to the cross market-town, he passed through the streets without taking notice of any of the people there, and ceased not till he had gone to the house where the man he sought rested himself, and where he found him in an upper room, to the wonder of those who had accompanied him in this pursuit."[4]

The stately Stag-hound, with his steady, cautious qualities, is little less valuable than the blood-hound for following a scent. Marvellous feats are related of his perseverance and strength in pursuit of his game; but since the reign of George the Third, the breed has not been kept up. That monarch was particularly fond of this description of hunting; but now, having fallen into disuse, it is not likely to be revived. Stag-hounds are somewhat smaller than the blood-hound; rougher, with a wider nose, shorter head, loose hanging ears, and a rush tail, nearly erect. A most remarkable stag hunt is recorded as having taken place in Westmoreland, which extended into Scotland. All the dogs were thrown out except two, who followed their quarry the whole way. The stag returned to the park whence it started, where it leapt over the wall and expired, having made a circuit of at least 120 miles. The hounds were found dead at a little distance, having been unable to leap the wall.

The fox-hounds are still smaller than the stag-hounds, are generally white in colour, with clouds of black and tan. They have been known to run at full speed for ten hours, during which the hunters were obliged to change their horses three times, or abandon the pursuit.

The Harrier and the Beagle are still smaller varieties: as the name indicates, the former are used exclusively for hunting the hare, and have nearly superseded the beagle, which is chiefly valuable for its very musical note. There was a fancy breed of them in the time of Queen Elizabeth, so small, that they could be carried in a man's glove, and were called singing dogs. They used to be conveyed to the field in paniers.

Turnspits are descended from ill-made hounds, which they resemble in body, but have very short, and even crooked legs. They are rough or smooth. They are said also to be derived from terriers, and it seems to me that the perpetuation of malformation in several breeds will produce the turnspit. They derive their name from having been used to turn the kitchen spit, being put into an enclosed wheel, placed at the end for the purpose. It is a curious fact, that now the office is abolished, the race has become nearly extinct. I extract the following from Captain Brown's "Popular Natural History," to prove, that if turnspits had crooked legs, they had not crooked wits:--"I have had in my kitchen," said the Duke de Liancourt, to M. Descartes, "two turnspits, which took their turns regularly every other day in the wheel; one of them, not liking his employment, hid himself on the day he should have wrought, when his companion was forced to mount the wheel in his stead; but crying and wagging his tail, he intimated that those in attendance should first follow him. He immediately conducted them to a garret, where he dislodged the idle dog, and killed him immediately." The following occurrence at the Jesuit's College at Flêche, shows that others of the species have kept the turnspit to this disagreeable duty. When the cook had prepared the meat for roasting, he found that the dog which should have wrought the spit had disappeared. He attempted to employ another, but it bit his leg and fled. Soon after, however, the refractory dog entered the kitchen, driving before him the truant turnspit, which immediately, of its own accord, went into the wheel. A company of turnspits were assembled in the Abbey Church of Bath, where they remained very quietly. At one part of the service, however, the word "spit" was pronounced, rather loudly. This reminded the dogs of their duty, and they all rushed out in a body, to go to their respective dwellings.

From the word "Spanish" being often prefixed to the name of the Pointer, it is supposed that these dogs came to us from the Peninsula; but as all dogs came from the East, their more ancient origin is to be ascribed to the Phoenicians, who brought them, not only to that country, but probably to England, although many think they were not known here before 1688.

In consequence of long training, the peculiar faculty of pointing at game has become an innate quality on their part; young dogs inherit it, and they only require that discipline which is necessary to make all puppies behave themselves. If we look at a pointer, the first remark which naturally arises, is that he is a large, indolent hound. He is however, extremely docile and affectionate. The black are said to be the best, but they vary in color; their fur is quite smooth, and they are considered very valuable dogs. Mr. Gilpin speaks of a brace of pointers, who stood an hour and a quarter without moving. This, however, was exceeded by Clio, a dog belonging to my father, who stood with her hind legs upon a gate for more than two hours, with a nest of partridges close to her nose. She must have seen them as she jumped over the gate, and had she moved an inch, they would have been frightened away. My father went on, and having other dogs, did not miss Clio for a long time; at length he perceived she was not with the rest, and neither came to his call or whistle; he went back to seek her, and there she stood, just as she had got over the gate. His coming up disturbed the birds, and he shot some of them; but Clio when thus relieved, was so stiff that she could not move, and her master sat down on the grass and rubbed her legs till she could bend them again. She died of old age, having been with us fourteen years from her birth; there were no signs of illness: and she went out in the morning with the shooting party. The first question on the return of the sportsmen was, an inquire for Clio; search was made, and she was found quite stiff in the stable, having apparently come home to die.

Of the general intelligence of the pointer, the following is a proof. A gentleman shooting in Ireland, with a dog totally unused to fetch and carry, killed a snipe. It fell in soft, boggy ground, where he could not get to pick it up. After some vain efforts to approach it, he hied on the pointer, by saying, "Fetch it, Fan! fetch it." She seemed for a moment puzzled at such an unusual proceeding, and looked round inquisitively once or twice, as if to say; What do you mean? Suddenly the sportsman's dilemma seemed to flash upon her. She walked on, took the bird in her mouth quite gently, and carried it to where the ground was firm; but not one inch further would she bring it, despite all the encouragement of her master, who now wished to make her constantly retrieve. This, however, was the first and last bird she ever lifted.

A favourite pointer was lent by a gentleman to a friend; but after some years of trial, finding the dog would not hunt with him, the friend requested his master, then in Ireland, to receive him back. He was conveyed in a packet from Bristol to Cork, and his owner went to meet his dog. The vessel was at some distance from the shore; but seeing him on the deck, the gentleman hailed the sailors, and requested he might be sent in a boat. No sooner, however, did the dog hear his master's voice, than he leaped into the water, and with great demonstrations of joy swam to him on the shore. Such meetings have frequently been too much for dogs, who have died from excessive joy at seeing those they loved, after a long absence.

The sporting dog called the Setter, is distinguished by his long, silky hair, and has consequently been considered as a large spaniel. The head shews an unusual development of brain; and his character for affection and intelligence corresponds with this formation. He is very handsome, is said to have come from Spain to this country, and his original colour to have been deep chestnut, or white. He is now marked with brown, or black, as well as having these colours.

A gentleman in Ireland received a present of a beautiful black setter puppy, from an unknown hand. He bred and cherished him, and the memory of Black York is still fresh in his country; not only for his perfect symmetry, his silky, raven black hair, but for his gentle, submissive disposition. He was a nervous dog when young, for even a loud word alarmed him, which, combined with his mysterious arrival, and an involuntary affection, induced his master to transfer him from the kennel to the drawing-room. From that time York acquired confidence, and lost his timidity; he first walked out with the nursemaids and children, and then accompanied his master. The latter went one morning to a rushy field, to look at some newly born foals; and there York pointed to a snipe. The bird rose, and pitched some hundred yards away, York's nose detected him a second time: he crept on a dozen paces, and couched again. This circumstance betokened his natural perfections; but with his temperament, the firing a gun might be a dangerous trial. He was taken day after day to mark the snipes, and praised for his conduct. After this, his master took his gun and an attendant, with orders to the latter, if York should attempt to levant or run away, he was to catch him in his arms. It occurred as he had anticipated; poor York was dreadfully frightened; every limb quivered, but he was soothed by caresses, and encouraged to go where the dead snipe was lying. In a moment he appeared to comprehend the whole. He smelled the snipe, looked at the gun, then in his master's face, and became bolder when he there saw approbation. Another point, another shot, and another snipe; and York and his master returned home; the gun was put in the corner, and the snipes close by, on the carpet. A dozen times, while his master was drinking his wine, York stole quietly to the corner, smelled the snipes, and examined the gun. From that day he gave up walking with the nursemaids, and became a matchless field dog.

York was never willingly separated from his master, and was very unhappy at his absence; he soon ascertained, that a carpet bag put into the gig, was the signal for going away; and one day, he secretly followed, and only shewed himself when he thought he was at such a distance that he could not be sent back again. He was taken into the gig, and by this means escaped a sad death.

While he was away, a mad dog infected the kennel, and nine setters, and two Skye terriers were obliged to be killed, Black York alone remaining. "From the moment," says York's master, "I took him from the kennel to the parlour, he cut all low connections; on the human race his affections seemed to be concentrated, and on one occasion, he gave a marked instance of his fidelity and intelligence. His mistress had gone with her maid to the beach to bathe, and a general permission had been given to the servants to go to the neighbouring fair a mile off. The young nurse, in the giddiness of girlhood, left the baby in his cot. According to the then existing custom, the hall-door was wide open and, save the sleeping baby, Black York and cats, no living thing held possession of the premises. A strange priest arrived, to ask and receive hospitality. He entered the hall, and the dog, otherwise quiet, sprang forward and assailed him like a tiger. The priest retreated, York's back was ridged for battle, and a mouthful of unquestionable teeth hinted to his Reverence, that the canine customer would prove an ugly one. He retreated accordingly, and York sat down beside his sleeping charge. There he remained on guard until the absent mother returned; when she entered the drawing room, her four legged representative laid his tongue gently across the infant's face, and without opposition permitted Father Malachi to walk in."

Equally interesting is the biography of Mr. Bell's setter, Juno, who from a puppy was one of the best dogs that ever entered a field. "She appeared to be always on the watch, to evince her love and gratitude to those who were kind to her;" and she had other than human friends. "A kitten, which had been taken from its mother, shewed the usual horror of cats at Juno's approach. She however seemed determined to conquer the antipathy, and by the most winning perseverance completely attached the kitten to her; and as she had lately lost her puppies, she became its foster-mother. Juno also played with some tame rabbits, enticing them by her kind manner; and so fond was she of caressing the young of her own species, that when a spaniel of my father's had puppies, and all but one were destroyed, Juno would take every opportunity of stealing this from its mother, and lick and fondle it with the greatest tenderness. When the poor mother discovered the theft, she hastened to bring back her little one; only to be stolen again at the first opportunity, until at length, Juno and Busy killed the poor puppy between them, from excess of tenderness."

I close this account of the setter, by giving an instance of the remarkable power of dogs to return to their homes from a distance, so often cited, and which was exemplified by my father's setter Flush, a dog of remarkable beauty and value. His master drove him in his dog cart as far as London, a distance of above fifty miles, being the first stage of a shooting excursion in another county. The carriage was so constructed, that the opening to admit air was above, and not at the sides, so that Flush could not possibly have seen any part of the road. On his arrival in town, the groom tied him up by a cord, with access to a kennel in the yard of the inn where my father stopped. He saw him the last thing at night, but in the morning the rope had been severed, and the dog was gone. All inquiries proved fruitless, it was supposed the great value of the dog had tempted some one to purloin him, and in great trouble his master wrote home his lamentations. Late in the evening of the day in which he was missed, my mother heard a scratching and whining at the front door, as she passed through the hall. Not supposing in any way it could relate to her, she did not heed it. In about half an hour a smothered bark met her ears, and then she ordered a servant to open the hall door and ascertain the cause. There was poor Flush--wet, dirty, hungry, and weary; with the remainder of the rope hanging to his neck. He had never been a house dog, and that he should seek the dwelling-house rather than the stable at some little distance, was another proof of his sagacity; he knew he should be there more immediately cared for, and so he was. My mother fed him herself; and, stretched before the fire, he forgot his troubles. The joyful news was conveyed to my father, as fast as the post would take it, and from that time Flush was a companion in the drawing-room, as well as in the shooting excursion.