THE BATTUE ON BONDA KEY. 177 



plantation house we had left. There were no sheep to 

 tinkle and bleat away the hours of the night, reminding 

 you of your bed in the Tyrolean chalet, with all the 

 herds stabled beneath you. There were no young 

 negroes constantly disputing or tumbling under your 

 feet ; there was no old Aunty Blase tyrannizing over your 

 culinary department, and ordering around all the boys 

 within reach. But we still had one nuisance, in the 

 shape of dogs — 



" Both mongrel puppy, whelp and hound, 

 And curs of low degree " — 



melodious hounds that bayed at the moon ; sullen dogs 

 that snapped at your heels ; insinuating, dogs that crept 

 under your tent and into your arms when half asleep ; 

 spiteful dogs, with their voices attuned to the sharpest 

 chords, and that came under Shakspeare's definition of 

 being " fit for treason, stratagems, and spoils." AU this 

 mongrel herd had been kept in peace at home ; some were 

 quartered away from the house, some were chained, and 

 others meditative or sleepy. But here, as sure as plea- 

 sant harmonies came over your soul, and the hush of 

 sleep fell on the camp, and the loudest sound abroad was 

 the flitting bat and droning sea, some canine tyrant 

 would infringe the etiquette of the brotherhood, and 

 immediately there would break out a most fiendish tur- 

 moil of snarls, yells, bays, howls, growls, and yelps, 

 intermingled with the babble of the negroes' voices and 

 the whacking of sticks, and when you were fully awake, 



8* 



