THE DALMATIAN 379 



coach travelled, was seventy-four miles. It was with great difficulty 

 he could be kept on the coach, always choosing to run by the side 

 of it ; and it was his being placed on the top of the coach, from 

 feelings of humanity on the part of Clarke, the coachman, which 

 cost him his life. 



On one occasion the guard placed the dog inside the coach, where 

 there was no passenger, but in a few minutes he was surprised to 

 see him running beside it, having jumped through the glass window. 

 During the early part of the summer he went with a strange coach 

 to Tunbridge Wells. Not liking his berth, he did not return to 

 London with the same conveyance, but found his way across country 

 to Brighton, and went up to London with his favourite coach and 

 horses. 



He was well known to many on the road from London to 

 Brighton, and in some places on the journey met with hospitable 

 friends. 



Clarke informs us that he would kill a goose in his travels by 

 the roadside, throw it over his back, like a fox, and run for miles ; 

 and Clarke had offered a wager that he would accompany the coach 

 between London and Brighton daily for a month, Sundays excepted, 

 and kill a goose by the roadside each day of his travels, provided 

 birds were put within his reach. 



On June 24th, 1851, he was placed on the back of the coach, 

 when he jumped off at Henfield, and fell between the wheels, 

 one of which passed over his neck and killed him. He was just 

 five years old. His skin is preserved, and has been stuffed. The 

 ' Brighton Coach-dog ' is still to be seen, in the attitude of life, 

 in the bar of a tavern in the Edgware Road, London." 



The following story, related by Dibdin in his " Tour through 

 England," shows how a Dalmatian was cured of a troublesome 

 habit : 



One summer he took with him on his wanderings through 

 Cumberland and Scotland a Dalmatian, whose great delight was 

 to chase the sheep, even to the summits of the most rugged steeps. 

 In one of his gambols a black lamb took a fancy to her spotted 

 playfellow. The dog never attempted to injure it, but seemed rather 

 astonished at the lamb's growing familiarity, for it commenced to 

 paw and play with him. At length the shepherd's boy appeared, 

 and a long chase ensued, the boy wishing to reclaim the lamb to 

 its fold, and the creature being as fully determined not to be parted 

 from the dog. Towards the close of day, however, the lamb was 

 firmly secured, but never again did the Dalmatian follow sheep ; for, 

 as Dibdin adds in his quaint way, " the unexpected offer of amity to 

 the Dalmatian seemed ever after to operate as a friendly admonition." 



The Messrs. Hale, of Brierly Hill and Burton-on-Trent, were 



