"Little favourite! rest thee here,
With the tribute of a tear!
* * * *
Thou hast fondled at my feet,
Greeted those I lov'd to greet;
When in sorrow or in pain,
On my bosom thou hast lain.
I have seen thy little eye
Full as if with sympathy."
There are so many varieties of terriers, and so many celebrated breeds
of these dogs, that it would be a difficult task to give a separate
account of each. Some have a cross of the bull-dog; and these,
perhaps, are unequalled for courage and strength of jaw. In the latter
quality they are superior to the bull-dog. Then there is the
pepper-and-mustard breed, the Isle of Sky, the rough and smooth
English terrier, and a peculiar breed, of which my own sensible little
Judy, now reposing at my feet, is one, besides some others.
Perhaps there is no breed of dogs which attach themselves so strongly
to man as the terrier. They are his companions in his walks, and their
activity and high spirit enable them to keep up with a horse through a
long day's journey. Their fidelity to their master is unbounded, and
their affection for him unconquerable. When he is ill they will repose
for hours by the side of his bed, as still as a mother watching over a
sick and slumbering child; and when he is well they will frisk around
him, as if their pleasure was renewed with his returning health. How
well do I remember this to have been the case with my faithful old dog
Trim! Nothing would induce him to make the slightest noise till I
called him on my bed, when I awoke in the morning. Night or day, he
never left me for many years; and when at last I was obliged to take a
journey without him, his life fell a sacrifice to his affection for
me. Alas, poor Trim!
This breed of dogs, the true English terrier, shows an invincible
ardour in all that he is required to do, as well as persevering
fortitude. In drawing badgers and foxes from their holes, the severe
bites of these animals only seem to animate them to greater
exertions; and they have been known to suffer themselves to be killed
by the former sooner than give over the unequal contest.
The vignette at the end of this notice represents a favourite
wire-haired terrier of mine, called Peter, well known for many years
at Hampton Court. He had wonderful courage and perseverance, and was
the best dog to hunt rabbits in thick hedge-rows I ever met with. He
was also a capital water-dog; and he was frequently enticed by some of
the officers quartered at Hampton Court to accompany them to the
neighbouring lock of the river Thames, in which an unfortunate duck
was to be hunted. I was assured that on these occasions Peter
distinguished himself greatly, diving after the duck whenever it
dived, and beating all the other dogs by his energy and perseverance.
Peter was a general favourite, and perhaps this was partly owing to
his being a great pickle. He was always getting into scrapes. Twice he
broke either his shoulder-bone or his leg by scrambling up a ladder.
He was several times nearly killed by large dogs, of which he was
never known to show the slightest fear; and with those of about his
own size he would fight till he died. He has killed sixty rats in a
barn in about as many minutes; and he was an inveterate foe to cats. I
remember once taking him with me on a rabbit-ferreting excursion.
Before the ferrets were put in the holes, I made Peter quite aware
that he was not to touch them; and he was so sensible a dog that
there was no difficulty in doing this, although it was the first time
he had seen a ferret. If a rabbit bolted from the hole he was
watching, he killed it in an instant; but when the ferret made its
appearance, Peter retreated a step or two, showing his teeth a little
as if he longed to attack it. Towards the end of the day I had gone to
a little distance, leaving Peter watching a hole. Presently I heard a
squeak, and on turning round I saw the ferret dead, and Peter standing
over it, looking exceedingly ashamed at what he had done, and
perfectly conscious that he had disobeyed orders. The temptation,
however, was too great for him to resist. Peter at last got into bad
company, for he suffered himself to be enticed by the ostlers and
others into the taps at Hampton Court, and they indulged him in his
fondness for killing vermin and cats. He was a dog of extraordinary
sense. I once gave him some milk and water at my breakfast, which was
too hot. He afterwards was in the habit of testing the heat by dipping
one of his paws into the basin, preferring rather to scald his foot
than to run the risk of burning his tongue. He had other
peculiarities. When I mounted my horse and wanted him to follow me, he
would come a little distance, and then all at once pretend to be lame.
The more I called the lamer he became. He was, in fact, aware of my
long rides, and was too lazy to follow me. He played this trick very
frequently. If I called him while I had my snuff-box in my hand, he
would come to me, pretending to sneeze the whole of the time. I have
said so much about Peter, because he was a good specimen of one of the
small breed of terriers.
Terriers, more than any other breed of dogs, live so much in our
rooms, and are so generally our companions during our walks and rides,
that they naturally imbibe a great degree of sensibility of the least
look or word of their master. This very sensibility makes them
extremely jealous of any preference or attention shown by their master
to another dog. I had an old terrier who never could bear to see me do
this. He showed it not only by his countenance in a remarkable way,
but would fall upon any dog he saw me caress. Mons. Blaze gives an
instance of a dog having killed a young child, who had been in the
habit of fondling a dog belonging to the same owner, and showing fear
and dislike of him. Another dog was so strongly attached to his master
that he was miserable when he was absent. When the gentleman married,
the dog seemed to feel a diminution of affection towards him, and
showed great uneasiness. Finding, however, that his new mistress grew
fond of him, he became perfectly happy. Somewhat more than a year
after this they had a child. There was now a decided inquietude about
the dog, and it was impossible to avoid noticing that he felt himself
miserable. The attention paid to the child increased his wretchedness;
he loathed his food, and nothing could content him, though he was
treated on this account with the utmost tenderness. At last he hid
himself in the coal-cellar, and every means were used to induce him to
return, but all in vain. He was deaf to entreaty, rejected all
kindness, refused to eat, and continued firm in his resolution, till
exhausted nature yielded to death.
I have seen so much of the sensitiveness and jealousy of dogs, owing
to their unbounded affection for their masters, that I cannot doubt
the truth of this anecdote, which was related by Mr. Dibdin. A lady
had a favourite terrier, whose jealousy of any attentions shown to her
by strangers was so great, that in her walks he guarded her with the
utmost care, and would not suffer any one to touch her. The following
anecdote will prove the unchanging affection of these dogs. It was
communicated to me by the best and most amiable man I have ever met
with, either in public or private life.
He had a small terrier, which was much attached to him. On leaving
this country for America, he placed the dog under the care of his
sister, who resided in London. The dog at first was inconsolable, and
could scarcely be persuaded to eat anything. At the end of three years
his owner returned, and upon knocking at the door of his sister's
house, the dog recognised the well-known knock, ran down-stairs with
the utmost eagerness, fondled his master with the greatest affection;
and when he was in the sitting-room, the faithful animal jumped upon
the piano-forte, that he might get as near to him as possible. The
dog's attachment remained to the last moment of his life. He was taken
ill, and was placed in his master's dressing-room on one of his
cloaks. When he could scarcely move, his kind protector met him
endeavouring to crawl to him up the stairs. He took the dog in his
arms, placed him on his cloak, when the dog gave him a look of
affection which could not be mistaken, and immediately died. There
can, I think, be no doubt but that this affectionate animal, in his
endeavour to get up the steps to his master, was influenced by
sensations of love and gratitude, which death alone could extinguish,
and which the approach of death prompted him to show. How charming are
these instances of the affection of dogs to a kind master! and how
forcibly may we draw forth the strongest testimonials of love from
them, by treating them as they deserve to be treated! Few people
sufficiently appreciate the attachment, fidelity, and sagacity of
these too-often persecuted animals, or are aware how much they suffer
from unkindness or harsh treatment.
Every one is acquainted with the pretty picture Sir Walter Scott has
drawn of the affectionate terrier, which was the companion of his hero
in "Guy Mannering." We see the faithful Wasp "scampering at large in a
thousand wheels round the heath, and come back to jump up to his
master, and assure him that he participated in the pleasures of the
journey." We see him during the fight with the robbers, "annoying
their heels, and repeatedly effecting a moment's diversion in his
master's favour, and pursuing them when they ran away." We hear the
jolly farmer exclaim--"De'il, but your dog's weel entered wi' the
vermin;" and when he goes to see his friend in prison, and brings Wasp
with him, we see the joy of the latter, and hear the remark elicited
by it--"Whisht, Wasp--man! Wow, but he's glad to see you, poor thing."
The whole race of pepper-and-mustard are brought before us--that breed
which are held in such high estimation, not only as vermin-killers,
but for their intelligence and fidelity, and other companionable
qualities.
I could not deny myself the pleasure of introducing this account of
the terrier, as it describes so well their courage, fidelity, and
attachment. "Wasp," we are told, at the close of an eventful day,
"crouched himself on the coverlet at his master's feet, having first
licked his master's hand to ask leave." This is part of the natural
language of the dog, and how expressive it is! They speak by their
eyes, their tail, and by various gestures, and it is almost impossible
to misunderstand their meaning. There is a well-known anecdote of two
terriers who were in the habit of going out together to hunt rabbits.
One of them got so far into a hole that he could not extricate
himself. His companion returned to the house, and by his importunity
and significant gestures induced his master to follow him. He led him
to the hole, made him understand what was the matter, and his
associate was at last dug out.