A gentleman walking along the road on Kingston Hill, accompanied by a
friend and a noble deer-hound, which was also a retriever, threw his
glove into a ditch; and having walked on for a mile, sent his dog back
for it. After waiting a considerable time, and the dog not returning,
they retraced their steps. Hearing loud cries in the distance, they
hastened on, and at last saw the dog dragging a boy by his coat
towards them. On questioning the boy, it appeared that he had picked
up the glove and put it into his pocket. The sagacious animal had no
other means of conveying it to his master than by compelling the boy
to accompany him.
* * * * *
The following anecdotes are from Capt. Thomas Brown's now scarce work,
"Biographical Sketches and Anecdotes of Dogs." He says:--
"Sir Walter Scott has most obligingly furnished me with the following
anecdotes of his celebrated dog Maida:--
"I was once riding over a field on which the reapers were at work, the
stooks being placed behind them, as is usual. Maida having found a
hare, began to chase her, to the great amusement of the spectators, as
the hare turned very often and very swiftly among the stooks. At
length, being hard pressed, she fairly bolted into one of them. Maida
went in headlong after her, and the stook began to be much agitated in
various directions. At length the sheaves tumbled down; and the hare
and the dog, terrified alike at their overthrow, ran different ways,
to the great amusement of the spectators."
"Among several peculiarities which Maida possessed, one was a strong
aversion to a certain class of artists, arising from the frequent
restraints he was subjected to in having his portrait taken, on
account of his majestic appearance. The instant he saw a pencil and
paper produced he prepared to beat a retreat; and, if forced to
remain, he exhibited the strongest marks of displeasure."
* * * * *
Ranaldson Macdonell, Esq. of Glengarry, has most kindly furnished the
following interesting notices and anecdotes of the Scottish Highland
greyhound:--
"Not many years since one of Glengarry's tenants, who had some
business with his chief, happened to arrive at Glengarry House at
rather an early hour in the morning. A deer-hound perceiving this
person sauntering about before the domestics were astir, walked
quietly up to him, took him gently by the wrist with his teeth, and
proceeded to lead him off the ground. The man, finding him forbearing,
attempted resistance; but the dog, instantly seizing his wrist with
redoubled pressure, soon convinced him that his attempt was in vain.
Thus admonished, the man took the hint, and quietly yielded to his
canine conductor, who, without farther injury, led him to the outside
of the gate, and then left him. The whole of the dogs at Glengarry
House were allowed to go at liberty at all times.
"The Highland greyhounds, or deer-hounds as they are called in the
Highlands, have a great antipathy to the sheep-dogs, and never fail to
attack them whenever an opportunity offers. A shepherd, whose colley
had frequently been attacked by the deer-dogs of Glengarry singly, and
always succeeded in beating them off on such occasions, was one day
assailed by them in a body; and his life would have been in
considerable danger, but for one of the keepers, who happened to pass
at the time, and called them off.
"The following circumstance will prove the exquisite sense of smell
possessed by the deer-hound. One of this breed, named Bran, when held
in the leash, followed the track of a wounded stag, and that in most
unfavourable rainy weather, for three successive days, at the end of
which time the game was shot. He was wounded first within nine miles
of Invergarry House, and was traced that night to the estate of
Glenmoriston. At dusk in the evening the deer-stalkers placed a stone
on each side of the last fresh print of his hoof, and another over it;
and this they did each night following. On the succeeding morning they
removed the upper stone, when the dog recovered the scent, and the
deer was that day traced over a great part of Glenmoriston's ground.
On the third day he was retraced to the lands of Glengarry, and there
shot.
"My present dog, Comhstri, to great courage unites the quality of a
gentle disposition, with much fidelity and attachment. Though not so
large as some of his kindred, he is nevertheless as high-spirited and
determined as any of his race, which the following circumstance will
testify: 'About three years ago, a deer from the wood of Derrygarbh,
whose previous hurts had been healed, came out of Glengarry's pass,
who wounded it severely in the body with a rifle bullet. The
deer-hounds were immediately laid on the blood-track. The stag was
started in the course of a few minutes; the dogs were instantly
slipped, and the fine animal ran to bay in a deep pool of water, below
a cascade, on the Garyquulach burn. Comhstri immediately plunged in,
and seized the stag by the throat; both went under water, surrounded
with the white foam, slightly tinged with the deer's blood. The dog
soon came to the surface to recover his breath; and before the other
could do so, Comhstri dived, and again seized him by the throat. The
stag was soon after taken out of the pool dead.
"Comhstri's colour is grey, with a white chest; but we have had them
of different colours at Glengarry, such as pure white, black,
brindled, and sand-colour.
"When the Highlanders dream of a _black_ dog, it is interpreted to
mean one of the clan of Macdonell; but if of a deer-hound, it denotes
a chief, or one of the principal persons of that clan."
* * * * *
That the Scottish dogs were much prized in England from the earliest
times, the following interesting account, taken from Holinshed's
Chronicles, 'Historie of Scotland,' p. 71, printed in 1586, will show.
"And shortlie after the return of these ambassadors into their
countrie, divers young gentlemen of the Pictish nobilitie repaired
unto King Crathlint, to hunt and make merie with him; but when they
should depart homewards, perceiving that the Scotish dogs did farre
excell theirs, both in fairnesse, swiftnesse, hardinesse, and also in
long standing up and holding out, they got diverse both dogs and
bitches of the best kinds for breed to be given them by the Scotish
Lords; and yet not so contented, they stole one belonging to the king
from his keeper, being more esteemed of him than all the others which
he had about him. The master of the leash being informed hereof,
pursued after them which had stollen that dog, thinking indeed to
have taken him from them; but they not willing to part with him, fell
at altercation, and in the end chanced to strike the maister of the
leash through with their horsespeares that he died presentlie:
whereupon noise and crie being raised in the countrie by his servants,
diverse of the Scots, as they were going home from hunting, returned,
and, falling upon the Picts to revenge the death of their fellow,
there ensued a shrewd bickering betwixt them, so that of the Scots
there died three score gentlemen, besides a great number of the
commons, not one of them understanding (till all was done) what the
matter meant. Of the Picts there were about an hundred slaine. This
circumstance led to a bloody war betwixt the two nations."
* * * * *
The following interesting anecdote, related by Mr. Carr in his
"Stranger in Ireland," there can be no doubt, I think, refers to the
Irish wolf-dog. Mr. Carr says, that while on his journey to Ireland he
"wandered to a little church, which owed its elevation to the
following circumstance. Llewelyn the Great, who resided near the base
of Snowdon, had a beautiful dog named Gelert, which had been presented
to him by King John in 1205. One day, in consequence of the faithful
animal, which at night always 'sentinelled his master's bed,' not
making his appearance in the chase, Llewelyn returned home very angry,
and met the dog, covered with blood, at the door of the chamber of
his child. Upon entering it, he found the bed overturned, and the
coverlet stained with gore. He called to his boy; but receiving no
answer, he rashly concluded that he had been killed by Gelert, and in
his anguish instantly thrust his sword through the poor animal's body.
The Hon. Robert Spencer has beautifully told the remainder of the
story.
'His suppliant looks, as prone he fell,
No pity could impart;
But still his Gelert's dying yell
Passed heavy on his heart.
Arous'd by Gelert's dying yell,
Some slumb'rer waken'd nigh:
What words the parent's joy could tell,
To hear his infant's cry?
Nor scathe had he, nor harm, nor dread:
But the same couch beneath,
Lay a gaunt wolf all torn and dead,
Tremendous still in death.
Ah! what was then Llewelyn's pain?
For now the truth was clear:--
His gallant hound the wolf had slain,
To save Llewelyn's heir.'[F]
In order to mitigate his offence, Llewelyn built this chapel, and
raised a tomb to poor Gelert; and the spot to this day is called
_Beth-Gelert_, or the Grave of Gelert."
I should not omit to mention, that in Mr. Windle's account of Cork,
Kerry, &c., there is the following notice of the wolf and Irish
wolf-dog.
"The last wolf seen in Ireland was killed in the neighbourhood of
Annascuit, near Dingle, in 1710. The place is still known by the name
of the Wolf's Step. The Irish called the wolf-dog _Sagh cliun_; and
old Campion, speaking of the Irish, says, They are not without wolves,
and greyhounds to hunt them bigger of bone and limne than a colt."
This noble animal is also described as "similar in shape to a
greyhound, larger than a mastiff, and tractable as a spaniel."
The following fact will serve to prove that the deer-hound is
possessed of a fine sense of smelling, a circumstance which has been
doubted by many persons.
The head keeper of Richmond Park is possessed of a famous old
deer-hound bitch, remarkable for her sagacity, and for having taken
five bucks in one day. After a battue in the Park in the winter of
1845, he directed one of the under-keepers to examine the ground
carefully, which had been shot over the day before. He was accompanied
by the old dog, who was to act as retriever. She came to a point in
one of the covers, as was her custom when she seemed to find a rabbit;
but the keeper, finding that it was a hare, called her off. After
going some distance, the dog went back and pointed the hare a second
time. The keeper put her up, and then found that she had been wounded,
having had her hind leg broken. Here the fine sense of smelling was
the more remarkable, as this old dog will not look at a hare, nor
indeed can she be induced to run after one.
One of her progeny ran a wounded buck into the large pond in the Park,
swam after it, killed it in the water, and then seizing it by the
foot, swam with it to the shore.
Having now given my reader all the information I can gather on this
dog of bygone times, I will gratify him with a letter I have received
from a lady whose name is dear to Ireland, and highly placed in the
ranks of English Literature:--
"Dear Sir,
"I am much flattered by your compliment to my national erudition,
a very scanty stock in my best of times, and now nearly used up,
in 'furnishing forth' the pages of many an idle tale, worked out
in the 'Irish Interest,' as the mouse nibbled at the lion's
net,--the same presumption, if not with the same results! However,
I will rub up my old '_Shannos_,' as Elizabeth said of her Latin,
and endeavour to recollect the little I have ever known on the
subject of the Irish wolf-dog.
"Natural history is too much a matter of fact to have ever
interested the poetic temperament of the Irish; Schools of Poetry,
Heraldry, and Music, were opened (says the Irish historians),
'time immemorial.' St. Patrick found the Academies of Lismore
and Armagh in a flourishing condition, when he arrived on his
great mission; and the more modern College of Clonard (founded in
the fifth century by Bishop Finnan), had a great reputation for
its learning and learned professors. But it does not appear that
there was any Chair of Natural History or Philosophy in these
scholastic Seminaries. Their Transactions recorded the miracles of
saints rather than the miracles of nature. And had some daring
Cuvier, or enterprising Lyell or Murchison, opened those spacious
cabinets, once
'In the deep bosom of the ocean buried,'
or entombed in mountain layers for unnumbered ages, the Druid
priests would probably have immolated the daring naturalist under
his highest oak. Is it quite sure that the Prior of Armagh, or the
founder of the Royal Academy of Clonard, the good Saint Finnan
himself, would have served them much better? Certain, however, it
is, that the Druids, Bards, Filiahs, Senachies and Saints of
Ireland, who left such mighty reputations behind them for
learning, have not dropped one word on the subject of the natural
history of their 'Isle of Song;' and though they may have dabbled
a little in that prosaic pursuit, they probably soon discovered
its perilous tendency, and sang with the last and most charming of
Irish Bards,--
'No, Science, to you
We have long bade a last and careless adieu.'
"Nearly two thousand years after the foundation of the most
learned Academies of Ireland, a pretty little Zoological Garden
was opened in the capital of the country; but no living type of
the Irish wolf-dog is to be found there, nor were any 'fossil
remains' of the noble animal discovered in the Wicklow Mines,[G]
which were worked some fifty years back, but which, for want of
capital or perseverance, only furnished a few Cronobane halfpence,
and materials for a musical farce to one of the most delightful
farcical Irish writers of his time;[H] for in Ireland,
'Tout finis par un chanson,'
(as Figaro had it of the France of his age,) when worse results do
not follow disappointment.
"The Irish wolf-dog, therefore, it may be asserted, belongs to the
poetical traditions of Ireland, or to its remote Milesian
histories. 'Gomer, the eldest son of Japhet, and others, the
immediate posterity of Noah, after the dispersion of mankind at
Babel, ventured (it is said), to 'commit themselves by ships upon
the sea,' to search out the unknown corners of the world, and thus
found out a western land called Ireland.'--(Dr. Warner.)
"It is probable they were the first to disturb its tranquillity by
the introduction of wolves, a fragment of the menagerie of the
Ark; for all noxious and destructive animals and reptiles were
brought into Ireland by her invaders. The soil and clime of the
'woody Morven,' however, though not genial to their
naturalisation, was long a prey to one of the most ferocious
animals imported by foreign aggression to increase and multiply.
Ireland swarmed with wolves, and its colonists and aborigines
would in time have alike shared the fate of 'little Red Riding
Hood;' when, lo! up started the noble _Canis familiaris
Hibernicus_, which, greatly improved by a cross with the wolf
itself, was found everywhere in fierce antagonism with foreign
ferocity; and for his eminent services was not only speedily
adopted by patriot kings and heroes, as part of their courtly and
warlike parade, but sung by bards and immortalised by poets, as
worthy of such illustrious companionship. It is thus Bran, the
famous and beloved hound of Fingal, has become as immortal as his
master; and a track is still shown on a mountain in Tyrone, near
New Town Stuart, called 'The Track of the Foot of Bran, the Hound
of Fionne Mac Cumhall.' So much for poetry and tradition. Modern
naturalists, however, in their animal biography and prosaic view
of things, have assigned the introduction of the wolf-dog in
Ireland to the Danes, who brought it over in their first invasion;
and its resemblance to '_Le gros Danois_' of Buffon favours the
supposition. 'When Ireland swarmed with wolves,' says Pennant,
'these dogs were confined to the chase; but as soon as these
animals were extirpated, the number of the dogs decreased, and
from that period were kept chiefly for state.' Goldsmith mentions
having only seen in his time in Ireland one Irish wolf-hound that
was four feet high. And though the father of the late Marquis of
Sligo endeavoured to preserve the breed, his kennels in latter
years exhibited but a scanty specimen. These majestic and
beautiful animals are now, I believe, quite extinct in Ireland,
where their scarcity is accounted for by Mr. Pennant as 'the
consequence of the late King of Poland having procured from thence
by his agents as many as could be purchased.' The last notice
taken of the Irish wolf-dog in fictitious narrative may, I
believe, be found in one of my own national novels, 'O'Donnel,'
where the hero and his hound are first introduced to the reader
together. I borrowed the picture, as I gave it, from living
originals, which in my earliest youth struck forcibly on my
imagination, in the person of the celebrated Archibald Hamilton
Rowan, accompanied by his Irish hound Bran!
"This is all I know or can recollect of my noble and beautiful
compatriot; but I remember that when some writer in 'Fraser's
Magazine' styled me 'that Irish she wolf-dog,' I felt complimented
by the epithet, since to attack the enemies of Ireland, and to
worry when they could not destroy them, was the peculiar
attribute of the species.
"I have the honour to be, dear Sir,
"Most truly yours,
"SYDNEY MORGAN."
"_William Street, Albert Gate._"
[Illustration]
[Illustration: NEWFOUNDLAND DOG.]