84 THE AMERICAN BOOK OF THE DOG. 



I keep my dogs for my own shooting, for pleasure, and 

 to enjoy with them, alone or with my personal friends, the 

 pleasures of the field in 



" The brilliant autumn-time, 



The most brilliant time of all: 

 When the gorgeous woods are gleaming, 



Ere the leaves begin to fall; 

 When the maple-boughs are crimson, 



And the hickory shines like gold; 

 When the noons are sultry hot, 



And the nights are frosty cold; 

 When the country has no green 



But the sword-grass by the rill, 

 And the willows in the valley, 



And the pine upon the hill; 

 When the pippin leaves the bough, 



And the sumac fruit is red, 

 And the quail is piping loud 



From the buckwheat where he's fed." 



Pardon my digression, my friends; but the mention of 

 autumn stirs the fire that is within me, and ever turns my 

 thoughts afield, and to the above beautiful lines from the 

 pen of that gifted sportsman, ' ' Frank Forester. ' ' I live from 

 year to year to enjoy the pleasures that I find afield. In the 

 early years of my life, I hunted over the old native English 

 Setters and Pointers; but I believe that, in view of the scarcity 

 of game to-day, and the hard work the dogs of this age have 

 to do to find six or eight coveys of quail in a day, the old- 

 time Setter would not be of much service to us now. The 

 birds are smarter, and harder to find; they scatter, when 

 flushed, into the thick cover. The old-time Setter had no 

 such work to do as our dogs of this age; so I do not hesi- 

 tate to say that the old-time Setter is a dog of the past, 

 and alongside of our keen-nosed, nimble-footed Gordon, 

 would cut a sorry figure. 



I never have gone afield with a dog that has given me so 

 much genuine satisfaction, in every way, as do my Gordons. 

 I have hunted them in the best of company for days, but 

 have never yet seen any of the others stand up to their 

 work for so long a time, day in and day out, as the Gordon 



