THE POINTER. 



237 



Priam, an extraordinarily good Pointer, was 

 the sire of Mr. Salter's Paris and Osborn Ale, 

 Field Trial Derby winner of 1884 and 1885. 

 Mr. Salter had an exceptionally good little 

 bitch also in Romp's Baby by Mike, and 

 altogether the sons and grandsons of Young 



bold dogs, but not bold enough for their 

 sporting owner. His Macgregor, a liver and 

 white by Sancho, out of Blanche, by Bob, 

 son of Hamlet, was a very grand dog, and he 

 won at the Sleaford trials. Rap, a lemon 

 and white by Hamlet, out of Lort's Sal, 



MR. H. SAWTELL'S BRACE OF SHOW AND WORKING POINTER BITCHES 



DRAYTON LADY and CH. CORONATION. 



Photograph by Russell ami Sons 



Bang were wonderful in keeping up the 

 traditions of possibly the greatest Pointer 

 family ever known. 



The late Mr. Tom Staffer, of Stand Hill, 

 brought out some capital Pointers of the 

 Lord Derby and Sefton strains. He ran 

 Major in the early field trials, and a very 

 grand liver and white dog he was, by Old 

 Major out of Garth's Mite, the grand dam of 

 Drake ; and so when Mr. Staffer bred Major 

 to Sappho by Drake he was inbreeding to 

 a sort, and the result was Dick, a beautiful 

 dog that he ran in trials, and afterwards 

 sold to Mr. Barclay Field for £60. The last- 

 named gentleman also ran him in trials, 

 and probably few more brilliant Pointers ever 

 ranged on a moor than Dick. Mr. F. H. 

 Whitehouse got some capital descendants 

 of Hamlet, and they were always very 



was another good Pointer, and so was 

 Priam, by Bob, son of Hamlet. Then there 

 was Mr. Lloyd Price's Belle, the fastest and 

 most beautiful bitch on game perhaps ever 

 seen. She was by Lord Henry Bentinck's 

 Ranger out of his Grouse, and this perhaps 

 sounds very like a far-off descent from the 

 Foxhound, as Lord Henry swore by nothing 

 else, and his great contemporary, Mr. G. S. 

 Foljambe, freely admitted that he crossed 

 the so-called Spanish bred Pointers with the 

 Foxhound to get what he wanted ; and so 

 did Sir Richard Sutton. They were possibly 

 seven or eight generations away before Mr. 

 Foljambe had to give up shooting through 

 his affliction of blindness, but that is just 

 what the hunting men left to blossom out 

 in magnificence by about the earliest field 

 trials, 1865. There never were better dogs 



