Rover is now about six years old. He was born half a year before our
eldest girl; and is accordingly looked upon as a kind of elder brother
by the children. He is a small, beautiful liver-coloured spaniel, but
not one of your goggle-eyed Blenheim breed. He is none of your lap dogs.
No, Rover has a soul above that. You may make him your friend, but he
scorns to be a pet. No one can see him without admiring him, and no one
can know him without loving him. He is as regularly inquired after as
any other member of the family; for who that has ever known Rover can
forget him? He has an instinctive perception of his master's friends, to
whom he metes out his caresses in the proportion of their attachment to
the chief object of his affections. When I return from an absence, or
when he meets an old friend of mine, or of his own (which is the same
thing to him) his ecstacy is unbounded; he tears and curvets about the
room as if mad; and if out of doors, he makes the welkin ring with his
clear and joyous note. When he sees a young person in company he
immediately selects him for a play fellow. He fetches a stick, coaxes
him out of the house, drops it at his feet; then retiring backwards,
barking, plainly indicates his desire to have it thrown for him. He is
never tired of his work. Indeed, I fear poor fellow, that his teeth,
which already show signs of premature decay, have suffered from the
diversion. But though Rover has a soul for fun, yet he is a game dog
too. There is not a better cocker in England. In fact he delights in
sport of every kind, and if he cannot have it with me, he will have it
on his own account. He frequently decoys the greyhounds out and finds
hares for them. Indeed he has done me some injury in this way, for if he
can find a pointer loose, he will, if possible, seduce him from his
duty, and take him off upon some lawless excursion; and it is not till
after an hour's whistling and hallooing that I see the truants sneaking
round to the back door, panting and smoking, with their tails knitted up
between their legs, and their long dripping tongues depending from their
watery mouths--_he_ the most bare-faced caitiff of the whole. In
general, however, he will have nothing to say to the canine species, for
notwithstanding the classification of Buffon, he considers he has a
prescriptive right to associate with man. He is, in fact, rather cross
with other dogs; but with children he is quite at home, doubtless
reckoning himself about on a level with them in the scale of rational
beings. Every boy in the village knows his name, and I often catch him
in the street with a posse of little, dirty urchins playing around him.
But he is not quite satisfied with this kind of company; for, if taking
a walk with any of the family, he will only just acknowledge his
plebeian play-fellow with a simple shake of the tail, equivalent to the
distant nod which a patrician school-boy bestows on the town-boy
school-fellow whom he chances to meet when in company with his
aristocratical relations. The only approach to bad feeling that I ever
discovered in Rover is a slight disposition to jealousy; but this in him
is more a virtue than a vice; for it springs entirely from affection,
and has nothing mean or malicious in it, one instance will suffice to
show how he expresses this feeling. One day a little stray dog attached
himself to me and followed me home; I took him into the house and had
him fed, intending to keep him until I could discover the owner. For
this act of kindness the dog expressed thanks in the usual way. Rover,
although used to play the truant, from the moment the little stranger
entered the premises, never quitted us till he saw him fairly off. His
manner towards us became more ingratiating than usual, and he seemed
desirous, by his assiduities and attentions, to show us, that we stood
in need of no other favourite or companion. But at the same time he
showed no animosity whatever towards his supposed rival. Here was reason
and refinement too. Besides the friends whom he meets in my house, Rover
also forms attachments of his own, in which he shows a great
discrimination. It is not every one who offers him a bone that he will
trust as a friend. He has one or two intimate acquaintances in the
village whom he regularly visits, and where in case of any remissness on
the part of the cook, he is sure to find a plate of meat. Rover is a
most feeling, sweet dispositioned dog--one instance of his affection and
kindheartedness I cannot omit. He had formed an attachment to a
labourer, who worked about my garden, and would frequently follow him to
his home, where he was caressed by the wife and children. It happened
that the poor wife was taken ill and died. The husband was seriously
afflicted, and showed a feeling above the common. At this time I
observed that Rover had quite lost his spirits, and appeared to pine.
Seeing him in this state one day, when in company with the widowed
labourer, and thinking in some measure to divert the poor fellow's
thoughts from his own sorrows, I remarked to him the state that Rover
was in, and asked him if he could guess the cause. "He is fretting after
poor Peggy," was his reply, giving vent at the same time to a flood of
tears.