Front Cover
 Front Matter
 Title Page
 Table of Contents
 List of Illustrations
 Half Title
 My voyage
 I meet the queen's dog spot
 Wallace, my noble highland...
 I see the queen and her dogs off...
 I visit Endinburgh Castle
 With Peter in a game preserve
 I take tea with Belle Plowrigh...
 The princely dogs and kennels of...
 My Christmas at Bickling Hall
 Gipsy ragamuffin and the wake
 A duke and Rigolette
 I am present at a deer-hunt,...
 With Robin in a wherry on...
 I visit Warwick Castle and the...
 Back Cover

Title: An American dog abroad, and the foreign dogs he met
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00084065/00001
 Material Information
Title: An American dog abroad, and the foreign dogs he met
Physical Description: 249 p. : ill., ports. ; 19 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Humphrey, Frank Pope
Alpha Publishing Company ( Publisher )
Publisher: Alpha Publishing Company
Place of Publication: Boston
Publication Date: 1896
Subject: Dogs -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Human-animal relationships -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Queens -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Courts and courtiers -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Castles -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Juvenile fiction -- Great Britain   ( lcsh )
Travelogue storybooks -- 1896   ( local )
Travel literature -- Great Britain -- 19th century   ( rbgenr )
Photographs -- 1896   ( gmgpc )
Bldn -- 1896
Genre: Travelogue storybooks   ( local )
Travel literature   ( rbgenr )
Photographs   ( gmgpc )
novel   ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage: United States -- Massachusetts -- Boston
Summary: Tony and his master visit Windsor Castle, Sandringham House, Exmoor, Warwick Castle to see the dogs of Queen Victoria and other English nobility.
Statement of Responsibility: by Frank Pope Humphrey ; illustration from photographs of the real dogs, their homes and their friends.
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00084065
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved by the source institution and holding location.
Resource Identifier: aleph - 002231938
notis - ALH2326
oclc - 30716561
lccn - 12034495

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Page 1
        Page 2
    Front Matter
        Page 3
        Page 4
    Title Page
        Page 5
        Page 6
        Page 7
        Page 8
    Table of Contents
        Page 9
        Page 10
    List of Illustrations
        Page 11
        Page 12
    Half Title
        Page 13
        Page 14
    My voyage
        Page 15
        Page 16
        Page 17
        Page 18
        Page 19
    I meet the queen's dog spot
        Page 20
        Page 21
        Page 22
        Page 23
        Page 24
        Page 25
    Wallace, my noble highland friend
        Page 26
        Page 27
        Page 28
        Page 29
        Page 30
        Page 31
        Page 32
        Page 33
        Page 34
        Page 35
        Page 36
        Page 37
        Page 38
        Page 39
        Page 40
        Page 41
        Page 42
        Page 43
    I see the queen and her dogs off to Windsor
        Page 44
        Page 45
        Page 46
        Page 47
        Page 48
        Page 49
        Page 50
        Page 51
        Page 52
        Page 53
        Page 54
        Page 55
        Page 56
        Page 57
        Page 58
        Page 59
    I visit Endinburgh Castle
        Page 60
        Page 61
        Page 62
        Page 63
        Page 64
        Page 65
        Page 66
        Page 67
        Page 68
        Page 69
        Page 70
        Page 71
        Page 72
        Page 73
        Page 74
        Page 75
    With Peter in a game preserve
        Page 76
        Page 77
        Page 78
        Page 79
        Page 80
        Page 81
        Page 82
        Page 83
        Page 84
        Page 85
        Page 86
        Page 87
        Page 88
        Page 89
        Page 90
        Page 91
        Page 92
        Page 93
        Page 94
        Page 95
        Page 96
        Page 97
        Page 98
        Page 99
    I take tea with Belle Plowright
        Page 100
        Page 101
        Page 102
        Page 103
        Page 104
        Page 105
        Page 106
        Page 107
        Page 108
        Page 109
        Page 110
        Page 111
        Page 112
        Page 113
        Page 114
        Page 115
        Page 116
        Page 117
        Page 118
        Page 119
        Page 120
        Page 121
    The princely dogs and kennels of Sandringham
        Page 122
        Page 123
        Page 124
        Page 125
        Page 126
        Page 127
        Page 128
        Page 129
        Page 130
        Page 131
        Page 132
        Page 133
        Page 134
        Page 135
        Page 136
        Page 137
        Page 138
        Page 139
        Page 140
        Page 141
        Page 142
        Page 143
    My Christmas at Bickling Hall
        Page 144
        Page 145
        Page 146
        Page 147
        Page 148
        Page 149
        Page 150
        Page 151
        Page 152
        Page 153
        Page 154
        Page 155
        Page 156
        Page 157
        Page 158
        Page 159
        Page 160
    Gipsy ragamuffin and the wake
        Page 161
        Page 162
        Page 163
        Page 164
        Page 165
        Page 166
        Page 167
        Page 168
        Page 169
        Page 170
        Page 171
        Page 172
        Page 173
        Page 174
        Page 175
        Page 176
        Page 177
        Page 178
    A duke and Rigolette
        Page 179
        Page 180
        Page 181
        Page 182
        Page 183
        Page 184
        Page 185
        Page 186
        Page 187
        Page 188
        Page 189
        Page 190
        Page 191
        Page 192
        Page 193
        Page 194
        Page 195
        Page 196
    I am present at a deer-hunt, Exmoor
        Page 197
        Page 198
        Page 199
        Page 200
        Page 201
        Page 202
        Page 203
        Page 204
        Page 205
        Page 206
        Page 207
        Page 208
        Page 209
        Page 210
        Page 211
        Page 212
        Page 213
        Page 214
        Page 215
    With Robin in a wherry on the broads
        Page 216
        Page 217
        Page 218
        Page 219
        Page 220
        Page 221
        Page 222
        Page 223
        Page 224
        Page 225
        Page 226
        Page 227
        Page 228
        Page 229
        Page 230
        Page 231
        Page 232
        Page 233
        Page 234
        Page 235
        Page 236
    I visit Warwick Castle and the North Warwickshire pack
        Page 237
        Page 238
        Page 239
        Page 240
        Page 241
        Page 242
        Page 243
        Page 244
        Page 245
        Page 246
        Page 247
        Page 248
        Page 249
    Back Cover
        Page 250
        Page 251
        Page 252
Full Text

The Baldwin Library
-UncrsP y
17BD dI.


-------- ---- -- ------- --

V~Arx -vx 'LJ.C Mi

t-" *

See page 25.



And the Foreign Dogs He Met

Author of "A New England Cactus," "The Queen's Home
at Balmoral," etc.

from photographs of the real dogs, their
homes and their friends.


Copyright, 1896

All rights reserved

My dear little English friends

Walter and Kitty
These chronicles of Tony
are affectionately


I. My Voyage 15

II. I Meet the Queen's Dog Spot 20

III. Wallace, My Noble Highland Friend 26

IV. I See the Queen and IHer Dogs Off to Windsor, 44

V. I Visit Edinburgh Castle .60

VI. With Peter in a Game Preserve 76

VII. I Take Tea with Belle Plowright 100

VIII. The Princely Dogs and Kennels of Sandring-
ham 122

IX. My Christmas at Bickling Hall 144

X. Gipsy Ragamuflin and the Wake 161

XI. A Duke and lHigolette 179

XII. I Am Present at a Deer-Hunt, Exmoor 197

XIII. With Robin in a Wherry on the Broads 216

XIV. I Visit Warwick Castle and the North War-
wickshire Pack 237


The Photograph Spot Gave Tony .Frontis
Tony Taking Observations from a Port Hole of the
Cephalonia .. .15
Portrait of Wallace .. .29
The Home of Wallace 33
Stag: Painting by Landseer 37
The Queen's Highland Attendant 47
The Queen's Indian Secretary 51
Mons Meg .. 60
Portrait of Scott 63
The Edinburgh Castle Parade Ground 67
The Regalia of Scotland 71
Peter and His Little Master 70
Pheasant's Eggs in Nest 83
Young Pheasants in the Nest .89
The Old Market Cross at Peter's Gate 95
Belle Plowright 103
Belle Plowright's Cottage 107
The Old Norman Church Where Belle and Tony Met.
(Built A. D. 1100) 115
West Front of Sandringham House (the Prince of
Wales's Norfolk Home) 125
Sandringham Kennels with Perla at Her Gate 129
The Future King .. 133
Family Group with Plumpy, Gummy and Huffy 139

Bickling Hall, Home of Da.ca 147
Portrait of Dacca .. 153
The Family Were at Afternoon Tea 163
Sandy, Fuz and Pickles 181
Rigolette's Promenade Coat 190
Traveling Coat, Showing Pocket and Railway Ticket 191
"At Home Coat with Laced Collar, Showing Pocket
and Handkerchief 192
The Collar or Necklace, with Turquoise and Silver
Bells 194
Caesar and Brutus 199
Great Tower at Windsor Castle Where the Jack-
daws Live .. 203
Balmoral Castle, Showing Main Entrance 207
The Bagpiper .. 211
The Volunteer Going Up the River 217
Portrait of Robin 221
Horning Village, Where the Children Sing John Bar-
leycorn 225
Wroxham, Queen of the Broads 231
Warwick Castle .. 239
Sweetlips and Some Others of the Pack 243





W HEN I am naughty
mV y master calls me
'"Anthony!" When I am
S .- good, which is most times,
he says "Tony." So though
my real name is Anthony, if I should
put it at the head of this true account of my
travels, nobody would know it was I, and I
wish everybody to know the traveler and
writer is I.
My master and I set out on our travels in
June. We took a stateroom on board the
S. S. Cephalonia, from Boston. At least my
master took a stateroom which I was to share,


with all the privileges. But there was a
woman in the cabin who objected to dogs.
I have observed that almost everywhere
there is a woman who .1,., i t, to dogs. They
say dogs bite their ankles.
But I don't bite. I wish everyone to know
in this n -i chapter of my travels that I don't
bite. I am a well-bred pug.
lBy great good luck, the 01Oi. tor was seasick
;.hi three days and could not leave her berth;
and each of those days I had a good run in
the -. *...... where I received a good deal of
T' at the endl of three days, the ii;, -tor
to dogs was able to g te ., .I. 5state-
room was by the .-' of He gangway, and I
saw ther i up:. T"'hli stewardess f l'i owe be-
a her deck.- i.-, -,._- six
a p;1e iof books an -.: -!s, a bi:,-

box of sweet '., to drink in a
SN va i ables, -a sun um e and a

- o decn U.


At night, after the Objector had ...in-
below, my master took me for a stroll on deck,
and again in the early morning. I liked the
morning stroll best. There were always 1 -,
on deck then. And from their conversation,
I concluded there were objectors to boys on
board, also. But all the objectors slept late,
and we had the deck to ourselves.
One !, iii ijiji._ we saw whales spouting. A
singular fashion! I should not wish to take
in water and spout it out of a hole in my head!
Another morning we saw an :.i .1-. The
ice I had always seen before was white. But
this was pink and blue and green and red!
Truly, I advise every dog to travel and see
the wonders of the sea!
I saw : :'' 4 ele to bark at, except a
smill vessel that passed near us one day. I
saw it from the round window in our state-
.... which was I.;- .:- to m' i my
head out f
There was a -. .._ of the spaniel family
o1n board I vessel. He r .. bamrk


with great cordiality. "Any objectors to
dogs on your ship?" I asked.
"Not one!" said he.
The Objector had overheard our conversa-
tion from her place on deck, and I heard her
say, "There's that dog again! I thought he
was to be confined for the rest of the voyage."
Cruel Objector! after being shut up herself
three days in a stuffy stateroom, why wish
me to be shut up in one the whole voyage?
But I had a lovely revenge! The last day
my master took me on deck. He wished me
to see the coast of Ireland. But I was much
more pleased with the white seagulls flying
about the ship. So was my Objector.
"Sweet creatures!" said she. And then
she scowled at me. And at that moment the
Cephalonia began to roll.
With the first lurch, over went the Ob-
jector; and her cushions, and pink box of
sweets, and biscuits, and something to drink
in a flask, and book, and bag of valuables, and
sun umbrella, and fan, all began to roll down
the slope of the deck towards the water.


Had I been a dog of less good-breeding, I
should have sat still on my haunches and let
them roll. But I do not take revenge in that
unhandsome fashion. I sprang forward and
seized the bag of valuables just as it was going
over to the fishes. I then made a snatch at
the pink box of sweets. But at that instant
the ship rolled in the opposite direction, and
everything went down the gangway, except
the Objector; she was seized by the passing
There were diamonds and gold pins in the
bag of valuables, and the Objector sent me a
large vanilla sweet, for my pains. I hate
vanilla. Bnt my master said, "Tony, good
fellow!" in that pleased voice of his, which
was better to me than all the sweets in the
pink box.


A NY dog who has money may travel. But
every dog that travels may not see a
queen. But I have seen one, and the way of
it was this.
I was one day waiting with my master be-
side the River Dee, where a stone bridge
crosses. On that bridge I met a genteel little
dog. We at once made acquaintance, and I
learned his name was Spot. He was a pretty
fellow, friendly and social.
lie lived just over the bridge, he said. His
house was called Balmoral Castle. I per-
ceived it had a high tower with a clock on it.
A red flag streamed from the top.
"That is my mistress's flag," said Spot, "and
it is always flying when we are here."
"And who may your mistress be, Spot?" I


"The Queen of Great Britain, Tony,"
said he.
At that I was taken aback. But I was not
going to let Spot see that I was. So I said,
"Indeed!" as though queens were an everyday
sight with me. "And I suppose she puts on
her crown every morning when she gets up."
But I saw in an instant I had made a mis-
take, and betrayed my ignorance. Pre-
tenders are always doing that.
"Crown!" exclaimed Spot, but too well-
bred to smile. "I should think not! but you
can see for yourself, for here she comes."
At that instant a man on a big horse
dashed across the bridge. "That's her out-
rider," says Spot. "Now comes her carriage."
That, too, dashed by, drawn by two gray
horses. She did not wear a crown. She wore
a black straw hat. I was disappointed, and
said so. I also observed a look of surprise on
her face when she saw us.
"To tell the truth," said Spot, "I've no busi-
ness here."
"Then you've run away?" I said.


"Well, not exactly. I just stepped out
through a break in the hedge, for a short
walk. Come through the break and see our
place. We mustn't show ourselves," contin-
ued Spot. "If we do, you'll be driven off and
I shall be shut up." So we promenaded-
I will not say skulked-along in the shrub-
I learned that Spot's mistress is uncom-
monly fond of her dogs. They walk out with
her, they sit with her, they travel with her.
Every morning they are washed and combed,
and their hair is carefully parted down the
middle of their backs, before they are brought
to her sitting-room.
"Look at that scarlet monster! I hate him!"
said Spot suddenly.
I peeped from the shrubbery and saw a tall
footman in a red coat.
"My mistress's footmen are all over six feet
long," said Spot. "How I should like to bite
his big calves! Sometimes," he went on,
"when I have been washed and combed till I


fairly smart, and then just take a little roll
on the gravel to cool the smart, and that foot-
man boxes me, I wish I were an unwashed cur
living in a dirty hut."
"But think, Spot!" said I, "you have for mis-
tress the Queen of Great Britain!"
"True," replied Spot. "And I love her.
She pats me with her royal hand It is a
pretty hand and has pretty rings on it."
"I admire your home, Spot," I said. "What
smooth green lawns to frolic over! what high
hills to scamper up! and, can I believe my
nose? do I smell deer?"
"You do. Lots of 'em. My mistress had
a pet one once. It butted us dogs, and we
chased it, and didn't it run! ki-yi! Mistress
didn't like that. She wants us to be consider-
ate like herself. But how can a dog be con-
siderate with deer running away right before
his nose?"
"It is the misfortune of human beings that,
however kind they may be, they cannot enter
exactly into a dog's feelings," I remarked.


I retired as I had entered, through the
break in the hedge. "Come to-morrow at
eleven and you shall see my mistress in her
garden chair," said Spot. And he pointed
out the shrubbery where I was to wait.
"For," said he, "I must be in attendance upon
her and cannot meet you, and if the policeman
sees you he'll nab you, Tony."
At the hour named I was there. The gar-
den chair was drawn by a sleek donkey.
The man that led the donkey wore a short
plaid petticoat.
Spot cast an eye towards the shrubbery
where I was and barked, "How d'ye do!"
But I dared not respond so much as by a single
wag of my tail, for I remembered the police-
"What is Spot barking at?" asked his
"Nothing, your IM1,i'-ty," replied the man
in the little petticoat.
As though a dog ever barks at nothing!
But what can you expect of a man in a


P. S. I afterwards learned that the little
petticoat is called a kilt. It is a part of the
ancient Highland dress. Again, I advise all
dogs to travel and see the wonders of the
P. P. S. Spot gave me his photograph
taken with his mistress and other members
of the family. The gentleman at her right
hand wears the ancient Highland dress.
Other photographs were given me, which will
appear in these travels.


M Y master paints; not houses and fences,
but pictures, and he is always looking
for what he calls "subjects." So we went on
from Balmoral into the hills for "subjects."
My master went pony-back, and we had a
boy, Kenneth, who also went pony-back.
Sometimes I trotted and sometimes I rode be-
hind my master or Kenneth.
When we came to a "subject" we got off the
ponies and Kenneth put up a tent. My
master and I slept in the tent at night, but
Kenneth slept on a pile of heather outside.
One night he asked me if I would sleep on his
feet to keep them warm. I felt I could not re-
fuse such a request, but I awoke in the middle
of the night as cold and stiff as a piece of
frozen meat.
I made off into the tent and -i ui._d beside


my master. I felt a little anxious about Ken-
neth's feet. But I heard him at daybreak
stepping briskly about and singing, so I knew
he was all right.
For some days I made no acquaintances.
But on the fifth day I met with Wallace, who
belongs to the Collie family. The Collie
family is a superior family. I do not think I
met with a better-bred dog than Wallace in
all my travels. I am sure that at times when
he visited us, he was hungry; for he and
his master lived entirely on oatmeal porridge,
which I hate. And he was never greedy.
When my master i.i,-r. .1 him a choice bit, lihe
accepted it, but not with indecent haste.
And Kenneth might set his kettle of savory
soup right before his nose and he would not
so much as sniff at it.
He invited me to his house.
Well, I was surprised! From his grand
manner I expected to see another castle. But
here it is, you can see it for yourself. My mas-
ter photographed it.


However, the sight of it taught me one les-
son; to consider what a dog is, and not what
kind of a house he lives in.
"Aren't you ever lonesome here, Wallace?"
I asked.
"No," replied Wallace. "I'm never lone-
some with my master and the sheep."
For his master is a shepherd, and wears a
shepherd's plaid of black and white, and car-
ries a long hooked stick, which Wallace said
was a "crook."
"You keep pretty busy with your sheep
most times, I suppose," said I.
"Yes, especially when the snow comes, and
the lambs."
"Wallace," I said confidentially, "I should
think sometimes you would be tempted to eat
a sweet, tender little lamb."
At that Wallace's long silken hair bristled;
his tail stopped w( i- i, and he looked at me
with eyes full of angry fire.
"If I thought you really meant that, Tony,"
says he, "I'd take you by the scruff and shake





you till you hadn't but just breath enough
left to live."
I hastened to beg pardon. "I was only
j. ii.-," I said. I did not dare even to hint
that a collie who had to live on oatmeal por-
ridge might be forgiven if he tasted of his
master's lambs occasionally. But my re-
mark softened his anger.
"Oh! very well, Tony, if 'twas a jest. But
some subjects are not proper for jesting. No
honorable dog would permit himself even to
think of betraying his trust. I would give
my life for my s heep," says ie, "but I would
not take theirs if I were starving."
We did not speak for a few moments, while
Wallace smoothed down his hair. Then he
began to wave his beautiful tail slowly to and
fro, and I knew he had got over his anger.
"I did shake a dirty cur by the scruff, once,
Tony," he said, smiling. "lIe was worrying
one of my master's lambs. I just picked him
up and shook him and then dropped him into
the river. lie could swim, but he didn't


scramble out my side. He never worried
lambs again. Such tykes are a disgrace to
our race, Tony."
"Tyke" is Scotch for a mangy dog.
Wallace was pleased to say, when we
parted, that he had enjoyed our acquaintance,
that I was a good fellow and he hoped to meet
me again, all which made me proud.

Then my master, and I, and Kenneth and
the ponies, went on further up the valley of
the Dee, and into the hills. The carriage road
stopped, and we took a bridle path. We
came out at last into the sweetest glen! It
had hills all about, and a brown stream run-
ning through it, and tall firs and juniper
bushes. Its name is Glen Feshie.
"Here we are!" said my master, "and here
tlcy are!"
I looked around. "They" were a little en-
campment of tumble-down huts built of wood
and turf.
"Up with the tent, Kenneth, and make



-- ~`-



coffee," said my master. And there we
stayed. And every night after supper my
master sat in the door of one of these huts,
and smoked and smoked, with his thinking-
cap on. I lay at his feet, and the stars winked
at us through the chinks in the turf thatch.
There was a painting of a stag on the chim-
ney piece.
"Do you know who painted that, Tony?"
asked my master one day. "His name was
Landseer. He was a great painter. He
painted deer. And he came here and lived in
these huts so as to study them. He was a
great lover of dogs and painted them, too."
Deer were as thick in that glen as spatters!
One day a noble stag came close to us. IIe
was a "royal" and had ten points to his ant-
lers. lie did not see us, but he lifted his
handsome head and sniffed. "Hist, Tony!
lie low! he smells us," whispered my master.
That very instant he saw us! and with a toss
of those splendid antlers off he went in long
leaps up the glen, and over to the brown


stream. Did I bark at him? Not I! I just
felt small! and what a jolly thing to paint
them as Mr. Landseer did!
One night a robin sang on a juniper bush
in the twilight. Kenneth had washed up, and
was sitting with us. "Shall I tell you a story
about Cock Robin, sir?" he asked.
"Yes, by all means," replied my master.
And Kenneth told this:
[He told it in Scotch, but I shall translate
it for the benefit of such of my readers as have
not traveled, and are therefore not familiar
with Scotch.]


IfHow it COunc About.

There was an old gray Pussy-cat and she
went away down a waterside and there she
saw a wee Robin Redbreast hopping on a
briar bush. And gray Pussy-cat says,
"Where are you going, wee Robin?" And
wee Robin says, "Pm going away to the King


t ^

.*J S..



to sing to him a song this good Christmas
morning." And gray Pussy-cat says, "Come
here, wee Robin, and I'll let you see a bonnie
white ring round my neck." But wee Robin
says, "No! no! old gray Pussy-cat, no! no!
Ye worry the wee mousies, but ye'll no worry
me!" So wee Robin flew away till he came
to a thorny dyke, and there he saw a gray
greedy Hawk sitting. And the gray greedy
Hawk says, "Where are you going, wee
Robin?" And wee Robin says, "I'm going
away to the King to sing to him a song this
good Christmas morning." And gray greedy
Iawk says, "Come here, wee Robin, and I'll
let you see a bonnie feather in my wing."
But wee Robin says, "No! no! gray greedy
Hawk; no! no! Ye pluck all the linnets, but
ye'll no pluck me!" So wee Robin flew away
till he came to a cleft in a crag, and there he
saw sly Tod Lowrie sitting.
[The fox is called Tod Lowrie in Scotland.]
And sly Tod Lowrie says, "Where are you
,.iir. wee Robin?" And wee Robin says,


"I'm going away to the King to sing to him a
song this good Christmas morning." And
sly Tod Lowrie says, "Come here, wee Robin,
and I'll let ye see a bonnie spot on the tip of
my tail." And wee Robin says, "No, no! sly
Tod Lowrie, no, no! Ye worry the wee lam-
mies, but ye'll no worry me." So wee Robin
flew away till lie came to a bonnie brookside,
and there he saw aweeLaddiesitting. And the
wee Laddie says, "Where are yon going, wee
Robin?" And wee Robin says, "I'm going
away to the King to sing to him a song this
good Christmas morning." And the wee Lad-
die says, "Come here, wee Robin, and I'll give
yon a good bit of oat cake out of my pouch."
But wee Robin says,"No, no, wee Lad die, no, no!
Ye trap the g..,ili hil .-, but ye'll no trap me."
So wee Robin flew away till he came to the
King, and there he sat on a window sill and
sang the King a bonnie song. And the King
says to the Queen, "What shall we give to
wee Robin for singing us this bonnie song?"
And the Queen says to the King, "I think we'll


give him Jenny Wren to be his wife." So
Cock Robin and Jenny Wren were married,
and the King and the Queen and all the Court
danced at the wedding. Then they flew away
home to their own waterside and hopped on a
briar bush.

"It's a capital story, Kenneth," said my
master. "And is it out of your own head?"
"No," said Kenneth. "It came out of a big-
ger head than mine, sir. Robbie Burns' head,
Every morning Kenneth sang, sometimes
one -n!i_, sometimes another. But he seemed
to be very fond of this one:

Send a horse to the water, ye'll no make him
Send a fool to a college, ye'll no make him
Send a crow to the -ii-;iij., and still he will
For they've none of them got rummel-gump-
tion, ay, no!

And to this day I don't know what rummel-


gumption means. I've tried to ask my mas-
ter. But the word is beyond even my lin-
guistic powers.
But one morning while it was yet quite
dark, I heard Kenneth roaring out:

Up in the morning's not for me,
Up in the morning airly;
When a' the hills are covered with snow,
I'm sure it's winter fairly.
Cold blows the wind from east to west,
The drift is driving sairly;
So cold and shrill I hear the blast,
I'm sure it's winter fairly.

I put my head out of the tent. All the glen
was white, and the snow was falling in great
"We must break camp," says my master.
And we did. We hurried down the valley.
I had time to say "how-d'y-do" and "good-bye"
to Wallace in passing.
"It's a fine country you're leaving, Tony,"
said Wallace.
"There's no doubt of it," said I. "But the
country my master is in, that's the fine coun-
try for me!"


We said "good-bye" to Kenneth, too. He
sniffed, but quickly dried his eyes to count the
shillings my master gave him. Kenneth is
saving his shillings to go to college. He is
going to be a "meenister," he says. The last
I heard of him he was roaring out:

For they've none of them got rummel-gump-
tion, ay, no!

P. S.-I wish to explain just here about my
name. The printer-man has put in a letter
that does not belong to it. My name is An-
tony, not Anthony. I am named for the great
Roman soldier, Mare Antony. That is the
way he spelt his name. I hope my readers
will bear this important fact in mind.


A S we came down the valley of the Dee,
and to the stone bridge at Balmoral, I
looked about if, by chance, I might see
Spot. There he was! and he greeted me with
great cordiality.
"You're just in time," said he. "We leave
to-morrow for Windsor, bag and Il.,''a'...
The Castle is in such confusion I've just
stepped out for a little quiet."
"We leave to-morrow, too," I replied.
"At eleven?"
"No, at four."
"Then you can see us off," said he. "It's
worth seeing. But I'll just say 'good-bye' to
you here, Tony, I can't do that at the station."
All the next forenoon the .l.Ig and bag-
gage" was coming down to the station from
Balmoral. It came in fourgons. A fourgon


is a great covered ':.b-.,,.I-- van with a door
behind for the lu-_,.- to get in and out.
Each fourgon was full of big portmanteaux,
little portmanteaux, Gladstone bags, dress-
ing-cases, hat boxes, dress baskets, tin trunks,
big American trunks and little leather Eng-
lish trunks. These were all dumped upon the
station platform, and two of the tall scarlet
footmen sorted them.
At quarter to two my master and I went to
the station square to see the Queen off. The
whole town was there also to see the Queen
off. I was at once greeted by a large, impos-
ing mastiff.
"I infer you have come to see Tier Majesty
off," said he. "It is a sight that custom can-
not stale." And I saw at once that this was
the most learned dog I had ever met.
"Do you reside at Ballater?" I asked in my
best English.
"I do," he replied. "I reside with the
schoolmaster, and my name is Plato."
"And mine is Marc Antony," I said. For I


felt that "Tony" was no name for my present
dignified company.
"I presume, Mare Antony," said he, "that
this is the first time you have witnessed Her
Majesty's departure from the Highlands."
"It is."
"I have witnessed it twice a year for ten
years," said he.
I made a rapid calculation, for I am rather
good at arithmetic. "Two times ten is
"Then, Plato," said I aloud, "you've wit-
nessed it twenty times."
He looked at me approvingly. "Ay," said
he, "and I can give you all the inforn~ition
you desire."
We sat down on our haunches.
"Do you perceive that red carpet spread
from the door of the station across the plat-
form to the line?" he asked.
[The English call the "track" the "line."]
"That red carpet is always spread for the
feet of Royalty. If you or I, Mare Antony,


1 "~t,


or any of these town folk, should venture to
step upon it, we should be driven off by six
policemen in plain clothes. That is why it
is so dangerous for a dog to venture. When
a policeman wears his blue clothes and hel-
met hat and badge, you know him, and can get
out of his way. But how can you tell him in
plain clothes? When the policemen protect
Royalty, they always wear plain clothes.
"And," he added, "no dog or anybody else
is allowed in the station except those that are
going on the Queen's train."
"Then she has a train to herself," I re-
The carriages began to arrive, and I
learned the value of my new acquaintance.
lie knew everybody.
"That," said he, "is Dr. Reid, Her Majesty's
medical man. That is Sir Henry Ponsonby,
Her Majesty's private secretary. That
dark man in the white turban is Abdul
Kariml, her Indian secretary. There a're two


ladies-in-waiting. There are Her Majesty's
personal maids, Mrs. MacDonald and Eliza-
beth Stewart. Those superior-looking men
are valets. That Indian in a long white
gown and blue sash and white turban is Her
Majesty's Indian attendant. Her Ilighland
attendant will ride in the rumble of her
A closed carriage drove up. It was drawn
by four horses. Two postilions in scarlet
were on two of the horses.
"That is the Royal baby, Prince Donald,"
said Plato. The nurse stepped out with
Prince Donald in her arms.
"It grows awfully interest ii1_," I remarked.
"It will be more so," replied he. "Do you
observe the high flag -. ll' over our heads?
When the Queen's carriage comes in sight
over the bridge there, the royal standard will
be run up that staff."
Just then I heard music and the tramp,
tramp of many feet.
"The Queen's Guard of Ionor," said Plato.

1*> "o ,' "1

*- ,

jI' .I- '''

T~lE UFFN'~ INI \N~F('R'T :

.,.. s


And a company of soldiers marched into the
square at a quickstep. They all wore the lit-
tle petticoats called kilts, and pink and white
plaid stockings, and scarlet jackets, and a pile
of feathers on their heads. They stopped and
stood in a straight line.
"Ah, here she comes! the Queen of Eng-
land and Empress of India," and Plato was on
his feet in an instant. I also sprang to my
feet. For it is not etiquette to sit in the
presence of royalty. The royal standard flew
up the staff. It is red and has lions and a
harp on it.
Two outriders dashed into the square.
r'lThe came Her Majesty's open carriage. It
was drawn by four beautiful gray horses.
The Queen-Empress bowed, and every man
took off his hat. But the women kept theirs
nM. The Queen did not wear a black hat this
time. She wore a black bonnet. On the seat
opposite her sat a lady with a pink rose
in her bonnet.
"That," said Plato, "is the Princess Bea-


trice of Battenberg, and those are two of her
children, Prince Alexander and Princess
"Observe the guard salute," said Plato. I
observed. Each soldier dropped the end of
his musket on the ground with a sharp rattle.
Their pretty flag dipped. A strain of music
was played. "That is saluting the Queen,"
he added.
Then the Indian attendant in the long
white gown and blue sash came to the car-
riage steps; and the Highland attendant
came down from the rumble; and the two
helped Her Majesty to alight.
It surprised me to see she was lame and
walked with a stick. She walked along the
red carpet and was helped into her carriage.
[Here again I must explain that the Eng-
lish do not say "car," but "carriage."]
Presently the train began to move.
"But where are Spot and the other dogs?"
I demanded of Plato.
"Observe the Queen's carriage as it passes,"


he replied. I did. In the front compart-
ment a sable collie was looking from the win-
dow. "That," said Plato, "is Her Majesty's
favorite collie. His name has escaped me.
lie travels in the compartment with the High-
land and Indian attendants. A door commu-
nicates with Iler Majesty's sitting room."
At a window of the sitting room I saw the
Queen sitting in a large easy chair.
"The Queen's carriage moves without the
least movement," said Plato. I suppose he
meant that it does not shake about.
In the next carriage I saw the Princess
Beatrice's children looking out of the win-
(lows. They had already got their hats off
and were smiling.
"But where is Spot?" I demanded again.
"Ile is locked up in a dog basket in the lug-
gage van," replied Plato.
"So that's the way royal dogs travel, is it?"
I exclaimed impetuously. "I'm glad I'm not a
royal dogo."
"There are coml)ensa ios in every sphere


of life," remarked Plato. "The basket is
lined and he is very comfortable."
The train disappeared up the line-eleven
carriages in all and two engines. The Royal
Standard came down the staff. The guard
marched away to the music of "The Girl I
Left Behind Me." That was what Plato said
it was. I asked if he knew the name of the
girl that was left behind, and he said, "No."
It was one of the few things he didn't know.
lie turned to go.
"Farewell, Marc Antony," said he. "I must
now return to the discharge of my manifold
duties. Be good and happy! Farewell!"
and he waved his tail with a patronizing air.
I felt relieved when he turned the corner and
"And now, Tony," said my master, "we'll
pack and start. Thank goodness, it don't
take eleven cars and two engines to move s!"
He packed his portmanteau in five minutes.
He put his extra boots on top of his best shirt.
He jammed them in, and I heard the starched


linen crack. "There, now we're ready, Tony."
And lie bought a third-class ticket.
The first part of the way we were alone, and
I had the freedom of the compartment. But
at Dinnet, a large fat man was evidently pre-
paring to enter.
"I'll wrap you in my plaid, Tony, for it is
rather cool, and put you up on the rack. For
that man is an Objector. It'll be comfortable
up there. Only don't wriggle, or you'll
fall off."
We could always tell an Objector. And I
generally slipped quietly under the seat when
one was present. It was kind of my mas-
ter to wrap me up, for my constitution is
rather delicate. The pug family are delicate.
From their high bre.lil._. I suppose. But
not to fall off! that was easier said than done.
For this was not the Queen's train, and its
jolts and flings were awful. I tried to keep
still. The attempt was fruitless. I felt m y-
self going. 1 gasped, but I dropped, straight
down upon the Objector's 1at. Luckily my


weight jammed it well over his eyes. For be-
fore he recovered his sight my master had
re-wrapped me and tucked me behind him.
"I beg your pardon," said he to the Objector.
"My parcel slipped from the rack. The way
this train jolts is disgraceful."
The Objector growled and smoothed out
his hat. I saw him through an opening in
the plaid. Ile got off at a place called Kirk-
caldy. Two sweet young women and two
small boys got in. They were not Objectors,
and my master shortly unwrapped me and I
looked from the window. WAe were on a
bridge. Far, far below I saw the water shine
in the moonlight.
"That is the Firth of Forth," said my mas-
ter. "And what is a Firth?" I asked. "An
arm of the sea," said he. So droll that the sea
should have an arm! I asked him if it had
more than one arm. And he said, "Oh, yes,
hundreds, I should think."
And below twinkled the lights in a great
ship. For we were far, far above the tops of


its masts. And down the Firth towards the
sea twinkled hundreds of lights on the two
"This is the great Forth bridge, one of the
highest and longest in the world," said my
"And did it grow itself?" I asked.
"No, men built it as they build steamships."
"You men can build anything," said I, "and
we poor dogs nothing."
"But you are the true and faithful friend of
man; and to be true and faithful is better
than to build great bridges and steamships."
And my master patted me in just the way I


A DOG generally has but one master. But
Scott, the dog I met at Edinburgh
Castle, has hundreds of masters. And no
one need think this a traveler's "tale," as they
say over here.
.-British dogs
S- don't say, "It's
... a lie,"but "It's
--. --_ a tale," which
is more polite.
iMON U> MG. Scott be-

longs to a regiment of soldiers. They live
at the Castle. We met at the Castle parade-
ground where his masters were standing in
straight lines, and marching about. "Drill,"
Scott called it. They all wore kilts like the
Queen's donkey-man.
My master was to lunch with the .Ii, ,. -,


and so Scott invited me to lunch with him and
go over the Castle. We went through a
great stone gate with a house on top, then
up a passage and through another stone gate.
Here we stopped to look at Mons Meg. You
may think from her name Mons Meg is a
woman. But she's a gun.
"I've had many a nap inside of her," says
"But weren't you afraid she'd shoot?" I
"Oh, no!" said Scott, "she burst three hun-
dred years ago and can't shoot."
Then we went up a stair and came out on
the battlements at the very top of the Castle.
We looked down live hundred feet. The
people walking about down there looked like
dolls, and the dogs like Colorado beetles. We
could see mountains and a great river. Truly
every dog who travels should visit Edinburgh
and the great Castle.
"It's a fine view," I said.
"It's very well," replied Scott, as though he


were used to seeing things. So I thought I
would let him know I had seen things too.
"I'm an American and have crossed the
great Atlantic Ocean," said I.
"Ah!" said he without changing counte-
nance the least bit. "I've crossed two oceans
and traveled on three continents."
At that I stopped. Ile said that of course
wherever his masters went he went. He had
been in India and seen tigers, and men riding
on elephants as common as horses.
"Perhaps you've heard of the Relief of
Lucknow?" lie asked.
"Is it a medicine?" said I, for I had taken
"Baxter's Relief."
"Med'cine!" and he was surprised. But he
explained at once.
"Lucknow is a town in India. It has a wall
round it. And once there were a lot of Eng-
lish folk in it, men and women and children.
And outside the wall were the Indian soldiers
trying to get in to kill them; for there was a



"And every day the English folk hoped the
British soldiers would come to their relief.
But days and days went by and nobody came
to help them. And they were discouraged.
And then one day'a Scotch girl said, 'Listen!
I hear the pipes coming.' And they listened,
but could not hear anything.
"Then she put her ears to the ground and
said, 'They are coming, for I hear the tramp,
tramp of the soldiers' feet.' Then in a minute
the rest heard. They heard the pipes sound-
ing louder and louder; and the tralmp, tramp
coming nearer and nearer. The Indian rebels
heard too, and turned tail and ran away.
And pretty soon up came my regiment," says
Scott, cocking his ears proudly, "and they
marched in with the pipes play;i.i, 'The
Campbells are ,i.irI, O, ho! 0, ho!' and the
English folk and little children were safe.
And that was the Relief of Lucknow."
"Pipes!" said I.
"Yes, didn't you ever see the pipes?"
"I've seen them. My master smokes one.
But I never heard them."


At that moment a singular noise broke out
on the parade-ground.
"That's 'em! that's the kind o' pipe I mean.
i.' .ilipes; it's splendid music," said Scott.
I did not think it polite to say I did not
admire the music. But I did not. I only
asked, "Did you go to the Relief of Lucknow,
"I did not. But the other dog did."
"What other dog?"
"One that belonged to the regiment before
me. When the regiment dog dies they
always get another right away. They can't
get on without a dog. Down there is where
they're buried when they die."
I looked down and saw several small green
mounds near the Castle wall just below. At
the head of each mound was a small stone;
and flowers were planted about.
"They put the dog's name on the stone, and
the countries where he went with his mas-
ters," said Scott. "There are folks who bury
their dogs anyhow; in a muck heap or any-
where. But my masters aren't that kind."

A i

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,. .. .. .,_ -. ,
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I was pleased to hear that; and pleased to
see the little green mounds, with the stones
and flowers.
We looked down at them some time. I am
sure when I die, my master-but I will not
talk of that now.
"I am named for a man that believed in
burying a dead dog decently," said Scott.
"He lived over there," and he pointed with
his nose to the housetops in Castle Street.
"He had a dog named Camp, and he buried
him over there in the garden. He buried him
himself and sent word to some folks that he
couldn't come to their dinuer-party that night
because of the death of a 'dear old friend.'
That's a master after a dog's heart! his name
-you may have heard of him-was Walter
"Camp belonged to my family; the bull-
terrier family," Scott went on to say. "IIe
was a handsome dog. We're rather a hand-
some family," said lie, perking up his nose.
I fear Scott's military life has made him


We went up to the Half-Moon Battery. I
expect it is called Half-Moon Battery be-
cause it is shaped like half the moon. Each
gun has a little door to look out of.
And then Scott took me to the Crown Room.
The crown is pretty, but it did not sparkle so
much as I expected. It is an old crown.
Nobody wears it now. It is kept under glass
to look at. And there is a jeweled sceptre
for the King to carry in his hand, and a sword.
But nobody ever carries them now.
"The Scotch are very proud of their crown,"
said Scott. "A part of it belonged to Robert
Bruce's crown. No doubt you've heard of
Robert Bruce."
I had not. But I said nothing, as Scott
seemed to think I had. Perhaps I should
have said "No." It is not quite honest, I
think, to make folks believe you know a thing
when you don't, just by saying nothing.
We were lying on the Bomb Battery, where
Mons Meg is, when Scott said that. The best
view is from there and we were tired after our

...~-r 7[*-~n L-j~..1.
*.~; Md- *. .Lf?4i =8


~. ~P.'r?
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tramp about the Castle. For it is a big place,
and Scott showed me everything, Queen Mar-
garet's Chapel, and everything; and the bar-
racks and the officers' quarters.
"I suppose you'll not be about here on the
.Queen's birthday?" said Scott.
"When is that?" I asked.
"May 24th."
"Oh, no! but why do you ask?"
"Because if you were, you'd see something
very pretty," said Scott. "On that day at
noon the Castle is manned in honor of Her
And I did see it. For at that time my mas-
ter made a flying visit to Edinburgh to look
at pictures. We saw it from a seat in Princes
Street Gardens. And this was the way it
All the soldiers stood along the battle-
ments of the Castle, and their scarlet jackets
showed above the gray walls like big red
blots. Then the great guns on the Half-Moon
Battery began to fire the salute. BaZng! bang!


bang! bang! ba)ig! bang! ,r,,,! Just seven
guns. And at every bang! the fire flashed
from the little doors, and the black smoke
belched out in a great cloud, and the thunder
of them rolled and rolled, over the town, and
over the mountain called Arthur's Seat, and
way down over the blue waters of the Firth of
Forth to the Sea. Then the hundreds of sol-
diers on the battlements gave three mighty
cheers. Then they all fired their muskets,
.but one after the other, beginning at the end
and running all along the line, just as quick
as could be-crack! crack! crack! crack! and
each musket sent up a little flash of fire, and
a tiny puff of gray-white smoke. Oh, it was
pretty, as Scott said. And then the regi-
mental band played the first strain of "God
Save the Queen." And the tune is the same
as "America." Only the English sing "God
save our gracious Queen," and we sing "My
Country, 'tis of Thee."
Then seven more big guns were fired, fol-
lowed again by three mighty cheers, and


these by the musketry, crack! crack! all along
the battlements, and then another strain of
"God Save the Queen." Then the seven big
guns a third time, and the cheers and muskets
and the strain of music. It took a good deal
longer to do than I am writing it. You will
observe that seven guns were fired three times,
and that makes twenty-one big guns, and
twenty-one guns is the Royal Salute.
After it was all over my master said, "And
now, Tony, as this is your birthday too
[though I am sure I hadn't thought of it] we'll
go down Leith Walk and get some short bread
and Edinburgh rock." I do love short breads
and rock! The sky was a bright blue and the
sun was warm. "The Queen and I have fine
weather for our birthday," I said.
I must add that before I left Scott that day,
I owned up that I had never heard of Robert
Bruce. And then he told me a brave story
about him. I'm always glad and happy when
I've owned up.


MY master was asked to shoot in the East
Country in November. And we went
The East Country in England is flat as a
dog biscuit. I saw it from the window of the
railway compartment. For I generally ride
with my master. There is a dog compart-
ment. But it has no window. As though a
dog when he travels doesn't want to see the
ThisEastCountry is called the FenCountry.
Master says it was all water once. I expect
my travels will make me very learned!
Every place we travel to I make a particu-
lar friend. In the East Country, it was Peter.
He is a Scotch terrier, and belongs to a very
small boy. Such lots of pheasants and rab-
bits and hares and partridges live here! "It


must be great fun to chase 'em, Peter," said I.
"Chase 'em!" exclaimed Peter, "well, I
"Don't chase 'em! and why not?" I asked.
I always improve every opportunity to chase
everything I can.
"No, not if I know what is good for myself!
Why, the keepers would shoot me if they
caught me chasing 'em."
"And who may the keepers be?" I asked.
"The men who take care of the pheasants
and rabbits. They always carry guns to
shoot vermin. They call us dogs vermin!"
"But don't you ever chase 'em, Peter? now
tell me true."
S"Well," said Peter, and he spoke low in my
ear, "I do once in awhile; I really can't help
it, you know. It's such fun to see 'em run."
We were resting in the shade near a small
wood full of underbrush.
"Do you see that board on the gate? Just
read what it says."
I read:



I did not know what "Trespassers will be
prosecuted" meant. But I knew what "Dogs
will be shot" meant, and my tail dropped
between my legs. "Cruel keepers!" I ex-
At that instant, a hare dashed into the
woods, and forgetting that dogs were shot in
there,'we dashed in after it. How the long-
1.-._-.1 beast did run! and we after him, leap-
ing and jumping over the bushes and
Up flew the cock pheasants, screaming, and
the hen pheasants cackled, and the little
brown partridges took wing, and more hares
started and the most learned dog's arithmetic
could not have counted the rabbits! but on
every side their white tails twinkled in a way
that drove us frantic.
"Ki-yi-yi!" yelled Peter, and "Ki-yi-yi!"
yelled I.





But our fun was short. Other sounds were
heard; a trampling of bushes, and a man's
voice shouting, "There are the rascals, shoot
'em! shoot 'em!"
There was no doubt as to who were meant
by "the rascals," and in another second,
"Bang! bang!" went a couple of guns, and the
leaves and twigs flew all about us.
"There's no time to waste, follow me," said
Peter, and he made a dash into a deep dry
ditch, and I after him, and our legs played a
pretty tune for a few moments.
We came out upon an open heath where
bracken grew; and Peter stopped. "We're
safe here," said he. "This is public property
and the keepers can't shoot us here."
We lay down upon the cool bracken and
my tongue lolled out of my mouth, for I am
easily blown. "That was a narrow squeak,
Peter," said I.
"It was so, and no mistake," replied Peter.
"But I've had narrower. I've been peppered


"Peppered! and what may that be?"
"The keepers load their guns with little
round shot and fire it into you. It don't kill,
but it fills you with little holes that smart."
On our way home we met no end of rabbits,
and put up a covey of partridges right under
our noses. But we did not chase them. We
only looked mournfully at each other and
shook our heads.
I just stepped inside Peter's gate to say
"Good-bye." "You'll call again before you
leave the parish," said Peter.
"I shall be very pleased to," I replied, for I
thought it an uncommonly pretty place and I
liked Peter. And just then whiz-z-z! and
rattle, rattle, rattle! and into the gate and
down the drive dashed a donkey car chock
full of children and nurses.
"Whoa!" shouted a small boy, and nurse
pulled in the donkey just in the nick of time.
For I was so taken by surprise I hadn't pres-
ence of mind to get out of the way and was
just under the wheel. "Jenny will run when

.1 ~I



she's coming home," said the small boy, whose
name was Walter.
"Oh! oh! there's Peter and a new dog!
Turn to me, New Dog," and the sweetest little
English maid held out both her arms, and I
jumped up over the wheel, and into them, and
licked her face all over in a minute.
Nurse shrieked: "Nasty dog! he'll bite her!
he'll bite her! throw him out! throw him out!"
I really felt hurt that she should think I
could do such a thing. Hearing nurse's cry,
the dear **".,I.....I" came hurrying out. I
instantly sat up before her and crossed my
fore paws as my master has taught me to beg
pardon, and she lptted my head with the
greatest cordiality. "Oh, no, nurse," she said,
"he's only kissing Miss Kitty. He doesn't
bite. lie's a friend of Peter and is very wel-
come." I knew in an instant she loved dogs
and was no Objector.
"Ah, Peter, Peter!" she said, looking re-
proachlfully at him, "I know you've been
poaching again." For that is what they call


it when a dog does a little hunting on his own
account. "You'll come to some bad end, I'm
a afraid, if you don't stop." And Peter dropped
his head and tail. "Well, well, Peter," said
she, -i. i.' mind. You're a pretty good
i1,._.._; if you do poach. Only don't let the
keepers see you." And Peter jumped straight
up five feet and kissed her cheek. Peter is
uncommonly light in the legs. Our hearts
were light, too, and together we dashed over
the lawn. But alas! there were croquet
hoops stuck in it, and I stumbled against one
and rolled over in a disgraceful fashion just
as I was thinking what a fine exhibition of
my grace and agility I was making.
"Pride will have a fall," said the familiar
voice of my master. lie was just coming in
at the churchyard gate.
"Were you the two scamps the keepers were
after?" said be, looking severely at Peter and
me. I expect we looked guilty, and I began
to think we should never hear the last of that


He held up a brace of plump partridges
which he said were, with the dear "marmee's"
leave, for the nursery dinner-table. lie shot
them himself.
"Oh!" thinks I to myself, "so you're been
poaching!" But he hadn't. He was a man,
and had been invited to shoot. And that
makes the difference. And I hope I shall be
able to understand the .lill II,.-i. by and by,
if I try hard enough.
"Tea is weddy," said the sweet little Eng-
lish maid. "Tun up to the nursery, Peter
and new .1._.._ie, and have some tea."
We looked to the dear "marmee" for per-
mission. "Yes, go," she said. "The new
dog's name is Tony, dearie."
We followed the children through the long
passages and up the stairs to the roomiest,
sunniest nursery. There was a tall fender to
keel you from falling into the fire, and a tea-
kettle was singing like a cricket upon the hob.
There wasn't even a sliver of fine furniture,
and nobody said "(let, off tihat!" when Peter


and I jumped into a chair or sat down on a
settle. It was delightful. I do so hate furni-
ture too fine for my use! My master never
has any. "It's share and share with you and
me, Tony," he says.
The nurse, too, was friendly, now she had
found out I meant well.
A big horse stood against the nursery wall.
It looked so spirited I thought it was a live
horse at first. But it was of wood and rocked.
And the little maid said, "I've learned to
mount; look, Tony," and up she went like a
bird on nurse's hand. "Daddy says I shall
have a real live pony soon to ride."
After tea Peter showed me the night
nursery with the little beds. "And really,
Peter," said I, "I almost envy you your charm-
ing home and children."
"Now," said Peter confidentially as we
parted, "you come round to-morrow about
eleven and we'll see the great shoot."
I had no difficulty in coming round. I
feared my master would object, so I did not

Pr .



tell him. He was off himself to the great
shoot, he said, and as dogs were not allowed,
he must leave me behind. The instant he left
I started to find Peter.
"Meet me," he had said, "at the old market
cross by our gate." And there I found him.
"But how will you manage, Peter?" I asked.
"My master left me behind because they don't
want dogs." But I was to learn that Peter
was a dog of resources. He shook back his
hair, shut one eye and winked the other vio-
lently. He tried to put his paw to the side
of his nose, but in doing so tumbled over back-
wards. "You'll see," said he, recovering him-
self. "There's more'n one way to skin a cat."
Though I couldn't see what a cat had to do
with it.
We took a roundabout course. I am not
sure we did not skulk. We stopped at last in
the brown bracken under a group of trees.
From there we looked over a healthy common
with woods on three sides. "They'll be along
pretty soon," says Peter. "They shoot all


they can in one cover, and then move on to
another. See what a wide nice path they've
had cut through the bracken for them. They
don't have to tear their hair and scratch their
noses pushing through the scrub."
Presently we saw them. A stout man
walked alone in front. "That's the Prince,"
said Peter. "And that boy is carrying the
stool for him to sit on when he shoots; and
that man carries his guns and loads them. Oh,
it's shooting made easy!" said Peter scorn-
fully. I'm afraid Peter's poaching is making
him bitter. And when I said so to my master,
he replied that there was "an element of pro,
found philosophy in my remark," which made
me think of Plato.
We had caught glimpses all the way of men
who Peter said were the beaters-the men
that drive in the game to be shot. And we
had caught sight of the game too. Such
beauties as the cock pheasants are! with their
scarlet cheeks and white necklaces, and
feathers like rainbows. And now we saw


more beaters, with loaders, and men to pick
up the game, and a cart to put it in. And
there was a plump pony. "That pony," said
Peter, "is for the Prince to ride on when he is
tired. Oh, yes! if you're a dog doing a little
sporting, you're peppered! But if you're a
man and a prince, you have a pony to ride, and
a stool to sit on, and somebody to load your
gun. That pony's name is Warwick. I'm
familiar with him."
We saw the shooters range themselves in a
line. Thc Prince sat down on his stool. We
were not near enough to see the shooting
plain, and I was glad. Though as Peter says,
"You iioI t kill things before you eat them.
Folks kill chickens and little lambs and
ducks; and why not pheasants and rabbits?
They are capital eating." And that's so.
Nothing better than a pheasant's breast or a
rabbit's leg.
"And the Prince," said Peter, "is generous
with his game. Ie'll give lots to poor folks;
a brace of pheasants here, a hare there. And


all the poor folks he gives them to don't live
in cottages. There's poor folks in palaces."
I was surprised to hear Peter say that.
And when I repeated the remark to my mas-
ter, he said Peter was an "-Il... \,-i'" and had
a "Socratic brain," whatever that may be. I
wonder if he was chaffing me!
"Now," said Peter, "it isn't all shooting.
Do you see that tent away down the road?"
It stood on a wide grassy border as wide as a
field. "We can't get down there to look at
it, for that man there is a policeman, though
he is in plain clothes. I know him, for I'm
acquainted with the policemen in these parts.
But that tent is where the shooters will eat
their lunch." Peter smacked his chops.
"It's a pity we can't have the scraps."
"., ,y,,'!" I exclaimed. "I don't eat scraps.
I share with my master."
"Oh, but such scraps!" said he. "Such game,
such pastries and jellies and sweets! Oh, my !"
"HIa, there they are now!" said he. "Thc
Princess driving herself and her ladies. They

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always come to the lunch. Oh, it is a jolly
The ladies all wore such bright dresses and
gay fol-de-rols, they made a picture with the
tent and green grass .and trees. And the
shooters all walked down to the tent, the
Prince leading the way.
And the beaters and pickers-up went off
another way to their lunch. They sat on the
ground to eat it, and Mrs. Appleblossom of
the Bluicbcll Inn brought it in her cart; bread
and meat and beer. Peter didn't say any-
thing about iheir scraps.
On our way back we came to a little
thatched cottage in a small garden. And
there was a rabbit sitting in the door. She
had a blue collar on, and was shaking as if
with cold. I expected Peter to make a run
at her. But he didn't. He even stopped con-
siderately at the gate.
"Mistress Bunny," said he, "don't shake so.
Grannie won't let them shoot you."
"I know that," replied Mistress Bunny in a


weak and trembling voice. "But the sound
of their guns makes me remember how near
they did come to shooting me once."
And Peter told me how one day when there
was a grand shoot, Grannie Brown was sitting
in her door there reading her Bible, when this
rabbit, then young and small, ran up to her
all a-tremble and wet with sweat, and just
slipped under the edge of her petticoat and
hid. Grannie didn't scream nor tumble over
as some women do when even so small a beast
as a mouse comes near. But she picked up
Bunny and soothed her, and had her into her
cottage, and there she has lived ever since.
She has a fine warm burrow in the garden,
and stays indoors when she likes, and is as
happy as the day is long-except on shooting
days. Then she remembers her own past
peril, and thinks, too, of her many relatives
who are probably being shot. For the Bunny
Family is a large one.
At our final parting, and we had more than
one jolly run together before that, I said to


Peter: "My dear friend, I have one bit of ad-
vice to offer you. Quit poaching. It may be
right and it may be wrong. But its effect
upon your morals is bad. It embitters your
disposition. It may lead to your death. You
may be peppered once too often. And con-
sider the grief of the sweet little maid, of the
young master, and the dear 'marmee,' should
such a thing happen."
But alas, I fear! I fear! habit is so strong,
and poaching so fascinating.
P. S. (of a later datl).-I have hesitated in
deference to the tender feelings of my readers,
whether or not to make the following
statement. But truth must out. My fears
were justified. Peter fell a victim to his love
of poaching not many months after our part-
ing. It was during the nesting season, when
keepers keep a sharp lookout, for the hedges
are full of nests, and the nests are full of the
pretty smoke-colored pheasants' eggs. But
I spare my readers the details.



M Y master sketched no end of churches
in the English East Country. And I
always stayed by at such times. For the mar-
tins that live about the church porches and
towers are excellent eating. They tumble
out of their nests when young and tender, and
break their necks. I was feasting on some
the day I met that charming dog, Belle Plow-
right. She also had come over to the church
to lunch off martins.
"Come down to four o'clock tea this after-
noon, Tony," said Belle, and I went.
Belle's cottage is made of little reddish
stones. My master noticed the little stones.
So did I after he mentioned them. "English
cottages grow out of the soil," said he. So I
suppose they must, as he said it. But I

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