Upon a bonnie day in June,
When wearing thro' the afternoon,
Twa dogs that were na thrang at hame
Forgather'd ance upon a time.
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During our stay in the Staffordshire Potteries we enlisted three
recruits. One of these had been a dealer in all kinds of dogs, and,
according to his own admission, sometimes a _stealer_ of canine
property; but dog-stealing was at that time not considered a felony, nor
indeed was it a punishable offence at all, so far as I remember. At the
time he enlisted he had in his possession a very small black-and-tan
terrier, of not more than two or three pounds weight. This little
animal he called Prim, and was very particular to stipulate, before he
enlisted, that Prim should accompany him to barracks. "Perhaps," he
said, "the colonel of the regiment, or some of the officers, might take
a fancy to it and give me a deal of money for it, especially when they
hear its history." This was said in the stable-yard of the Stork Hotel,
Dudley, one morning after a party of us had returned from night patrol,
the rioters being at that time very troublesome, prowling about the
country at all hours, frightening the inhabitants out of their wits.
We were very anxious to hear the history of Prim, the little terrier,
and after cleaning our kit and horses, the recruit (a very intelligent
fellow for his class, about eighteen years of age) related the following
story, while sitting on a truss of hay with Prim on his knee:--
"This here little dog once belonged to a gemman who lived at Hands
worth, just outside of Brummagem. This gemman was so well known among
the dog-fanciers at Brummagem, that none on 'em would ever steal any of
his dogs, and he had lots on 'em, but this was the best of the whole
bilin'. Well, not far from where the gemman lived there was a sort of
farmer, wot sold milk and kept cows. This farmer had a big, savage
bulldog, wot he had bought from a butcher in Brummagem; the dog's name
was Turk. The gemman who owned Prim had his house and garden fenced off
from the road with boarding about seven feet high, and in this boarding,
near the bottom, was a hole just large enough for the fowls to come
through on to the road, whenever they was inclined for to do. Well,
Prim was in and out through this here hole quite as often as the fowls.
It was just the thing for him; he used for to rush out and snap at any
big dog that might be passing, and when the big dogs turned round upon
him, the impudent little joker would dart through the hole, and further
insult the others by barking at them, knowing very well that they could
not follow him; so the big dogs used to trot off, vowing all sorts of
vengeance, if ever they got him within reach of their jaws.
"Turk was a very savage dog, but was always upon very good terms with
Prim; 'cos why? Prim used for to bring meat and bones from his master's
kitchen every day and give them to Turk through the hole. The two dogs
were often seen at play together in the road, for Turk was too big to
get through to Prim in the garden. But Turk was always very cross, and
whenever he thought Prim was going too far with his marlocks, he would
give the little dog a nip and a shake to keep him civil; but Prim never
bore no malice, and never forgot to bring Turk a good meal whenever he
found the cook off her guard in the kitchen.
"This state o' things, however, was too bright to last. The older Turk
got, the more crusty and ill-tempered he became. He actually growled
and snapped at Prim one day because the little un brought him a piece of
beef with too much bone. Still Prim's friendship was as true as ever.
One day last summer, Turk set off as usual to visit his friend, who was
generally somewhere handy about the garden. When Turk arrived at the
hole in the fence, he put his head down to the opening, and not seeing
Prim, he barked several times to let the little un know that he was
waiting on him coming with the dinner; but Prim was too busy looking out
for a chance to pick up something nice, so he took no notice of Turk's
angry yelp. At last Turk thought he would lie down in the warm sun just
by the hole. He became sleepy, and lazily opened and shut first one eye
and then the other; then he licked his paws, and brushed a fly off his
nose, wondered how long Prim would be with his dinner, gradually began
to doze, let his head down between his paws, and fell asleep. Turk had
only slept a few minutes before Prim made his appearance at the hole,
with about half a shoulder of cooked mutton. Seeing Turk asleep, he
gently laid down the meat, and thought he would play a trick upon him,
although the old un had often warned him not to take liberties, as his
temper was not to be trusted. The little un, however, did not think of
the consequences, and quickly seizing Turk's stumpy tail between his
teeth, he soon pulled the old dog out of his dreams. Turk jumped up,
rolled his eyes about fiercely, while every hair on his back stood on
end, and savagely turned to seize the little un. But Prim was too
nimble for him; he jumped through the hole in the fence, and was safe.
Peering his little impudent-looking head through the opening, he gave
two or three short, sharp yelps, as if making game of Turk, who regarded
him with that quiet, savage look peculiar to a bulldog, as much as to
say, `Every dog has his day; wait till I catch you.' But, angry though
he was, he did not leave until he had finished the meal Prim had so
kindly brought him.
"Turk's savage nature now began to show itself. A bulldog, like some
human creatures, never forgives an injury. His rage was terrible; his
mouth foamed, his eyes grew red as blood, and his teeth grated as if
they were already chewing up little Prim's bones.
"An old bulldog is always a very sensible-looking animal, and as he
stood looking at Prim through the hole in the fence, he seemed to be
saying to himself as well as he was able, `From this day forth I am your
deadly foe; revenge shall be my only thoughts by day and my dreams by
night. Beware of the future; I will never rest until my teeth are
buried in your throat. I hate you and the whole race of dogs, and my
temper is so bad that I hate myself and every living thing.' Turk then
cantered off home. On his way he had to pass an old man breaking stones
by the side of the road. Between this man and Turk there existed a
deadly feud, which had arisen from Turk having once stolen the poor
man's dinner, bag and all. Up to this period Turk had crept through the
hedge and trotted along the field, until fairly past the spot where the
man was at work, when he would come through the hedge again and trot
along until he came to his meeting-place with Prim. Now, on this
particular day, Turk was determined not to go out of his way, and if the
man should throw a stone at him, or in any way interfere with him, he
would attack him and worry him if possible. On he trotted up the middle
of the road until he reached a point where the old man caught a sight of
him. Rising quickly from his seat on the stone-heap, hammer in hand, he
placed himself in the middle of the road, determined to dispute Turk's
passage.
"`Come on!' said the old man, `and with this hammer,' (flourishing it
over his head) `I will be thy butcher,' said he. Still Turk trotted on,
apparently undismayed, until within a few yards of the stonebreaker, who
lost his temper and threw the hammer with all his force at the head of
Turk. The bulldog jumped aside and avoided the murderous weapon, then,
with a short, sharp growl, he dashed at the old man, who turned round
and stooped towards the stone-heap for one to throw at the dog. Turk
instantly took advantage of the man's position by seizing hold of his
breeches, which he tore to shreds, and then, as if satisfied with the
assault, he cantered up the lane and crept into his kennel to meditate
upon his plan of revenge upon poor little Prim. How was he to get
square with the terrier for biting his tail? Plan after plan was turned
over in his mind as he lay with his head between his paws just outside
the kennel, his upper lip curled up, and showing a formidable set of
snow-white teeth. He hated even the flies as they dropped on his nose,
and crawled around his bleary-looking eyes, bloodshot with rage. At
last he thought of a plan. True, it would not be a very agreeable one
for himself, but what of that? He was a thorough-bred bulldog, and
nothing should stand between him and his plan of revenge.
"Hitherto Turk's appetite had been good; he had never been known to
desert a bone until it was as bare and as shiny as his own teeth. He
gradually began to leave off his inroads upon the farmer's kitchen, and
the wife thought he must in consequence be sick. In vain he was tempted
with the choicest bits, raw and cooked; he gazed at them with a longing
look, and even condescended to snuff in their savoury odours, but that
was all. One bite sufficed for his breakfast, two or three for his
dinner, and be retired into the farthest end of his kennel supperless.
"A Brummagem dog-fancier was sent for, and notwithstanding Turk's
determined opposition, some medicine was forced down his throat, which,
it was said, would give him an appetite as good as a famished gorilla in
about a couple of days. But the two days passed without restoring his
appetite; he grew thinner and thinner, and the farmer at last gave him
up as incurable, assigning as his reason that he must be in a `dog
consumption.'
"Shortly after this unaccountable disease had set in, it had been
noticed that, the animal quitted his kennel every night as it was
growing dark, and trotted down the road; but no one knew what these
twilight expeditions were undertaken for. But the plot was drawing to a
head. One evening he departed, as usual, down the road. His tortures
were about to end, and his long fast be followed by a feast. Nearing
the well-known garden where he had so often met Prim, his movements
became curious. He moved like a ghost, and stopped to listen, but
nothing was stirring. Finally he reached the opening in the fence; he
pushed his head stealthily through the hole, his neck followed his head,
his body followed his neck, his tail followed his body, and now Turk was
fairly in the garden, where he had never been before. Being satisfied
with this experiment (which had been repeatedly made since he had
brought his plan of fasting into operation, but never successfully until
this occasion) he returned to the road and began to bark. In a few
moments an answering yelp was heard--Prim was hastening to his doom.
Suddenly his little head was popped out of the opening of the fence. A
sharp growl escaped Turk--he was too eager for his revenge; and Prim,
instead of coming through the hole on to the road (where Turk had often
tried to coax him without effect), gave a defiant `wow, wow, wow,' and
was making his way back to his kennel, as much as to say, `I can't
accommodate you to-night.' Quick as lightning, Turk darted towards the
hole. At the same instant, a loud report was heard; the figure of a man
appeared upon the scene. It was the enraged stonebreaker. Turk rolled
over, mortally wounded by a shot from an old blunderbuss. `Ha! ha! you
would steal my dinner, would you, and then rip a good pair of corduroy
breeches off my legs all to pieces, would you?' said the old man, giving
him a kick over the ribs. Turk made answer by one prolonged howl of
disappointment, pain, and despair, which grew fainter and fainter, until
it ceased altogether, and he died the victim of his own selfish and
revengeful disposition. By the timely arrival and interposition of the
stonebreaker the life of Prim was saved, but he never appeared happy
afterwards, probably from the fear of encountering Turk and paying with
his life the consequences of his harmless joke."
I have endeavoured as far as I could to render the recruit's dog-story
as it was given, with as little alteration as possible. When finished,
we asked him how he became possessed of Prim? His answer was that he
had exchanged a small French poodle with the gentleman for the little
hero of the tale. Prim was allowed to accompany the recruit to
head-quarters; he lived some years in the regiment, and finally got
worried through venturing too near a large monkey kept chained behind
the stables, around whom he was accustomed to dance and make fun of him,
much in the same manner as he had done with Turk and the large dogs who
passed his old master's residence at Handsworth.