45O The Dog Book 



head and stern during his early puppyhood. By this we shall readily be 

 understood to refer to his ears, which must, at all events, in order to his 

 coming to a good place, have the true, upright, pricked, kiddy crop, and in 

 the next place he must be nicked in that workmanlike style, which shall 

 produce an alternative elevation and depression of his stern, in exact agree- 

 ment with the model we have exhibited. 



"We have been, however, performing a work of supererogation, not at 

 all necessary to our sporting salvation or flash repute, in varnishing the new 

 breed, which has become so truly the go, that no rum or queer kiddy, or man 

 of cash) from Tothill Street in the West to North-Eastern Holloway, far 

 less any swell rising sixteen, with a black, purple or green Indiaman, round 

 his squeeze, the corner of his variegated dab hanging from his pocket, and 

 his pantaloons well creased and puckered, but must have a tike of the new 

 cut at the heels of himself or prad" 



The first book pertaining to dogs to refer to the bull terrier by a name 

 and give it a chapter is Captain Brown's "Anecdotes of Dogs," published 

 in 1829. His description is of the early crosses. 



"He has rather a large, square head, short neck, deep chest and very 

 strong legs. He possesses great strength of jaw and draws a badger with 

 much ease. He is of all colours, and often white, with large black or brown 

 patches on different parts of his body. His hair is short and stiff." It is 

 very evident that Captain Brown got most of the rest of his chapter from 

 Egan's sketch, but in Brown's chapter on the Scotch terriers he says that 

 the cross between the leggy fifteen-inch Scotch terrier and the bulldog made 

 the best bull terrier. Stonehenge also mentions this cross in his first edition, 

 but said they were not so game as the smooths. 



To Captain Brown we are also indebted for the following original 

 anecdote which Sir Walter Scott sent to him: "The wisest dog I ever had 

 was what is called the Bull-dog Terrier. I taught him to understand a 

 great many words, insomuch that I am positive that the communication 

 betwixt the canine species and ourselves might be greatly enlarged. Camp 

 once bit the baker, who was bringing bread to the family. I beat him and 

 explained the enormity of his offence, after which to the last moment of his 

 life, he never heard the least allusion to the story, in whatever voice or tone 

 it was mentioned, without getting up and retiring into the darkest corner of 

 the room with great appearance of distress. Then if you said 'The baker 

 was well paid,' or 'The baker was not hurt at all,' Camp came forth from 



