IN BOOKS AND REAL LIFE 193 



the toy terrier I could smuggle into a coat-pocket 

 when I went travelling abroad. I found by the 

 way, he was always considered an acquisition to 

 the party when he came up to breathe like an 

 otter and insisted on crawling on to my lap. But 

 my personal fancy is for terriers, and specially for 

 Aberdeen terriers. I seldom go for a walk without 

 having two or three trotting at my heels — though 

 indeed ^' trotting at my heels " is another poetic 

 license, for unless when walking through pheasant 

 coverts or over ground swarming with rabbits, they 

 are here, there, and everywhere — for the general 

 characteristic of the terrier is restless activity, and 

 his great charm is his irrepressible curiosity. His 

 ears, or at least one of them, is always cocked ; 

 nothing, above or below, escapes his notice ; and I 

 have one old dog who diverted the attention of a 

 village school-treat by following with wrapt atten- 

 tion the flight of a calico balloon. It was a puzzle 

 altogether beyond his experience, and when he 

 shook his head after trying vainly to solve the 

 problem, I never saw a dog look more disgusted. 



A queer contradiction in the terrier with his 

 restless activity is his economising of the work that 

 must be done. He is always going to and fro, 

 changing from the gallop to the trot, but whenever 

 he comes to a cross-road or a side field-path there 

 he waits, as if he were a convict on the treadmill, 

 who won't take an unnecessary step. And, like 

 other dogs of good breed, he has an extraordinary 



knowledge of the lie of a country. I don't much 



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