325 



CHAPTER XVIII. 



" The day wears late, — I can but try : 

 Eemain with 'Thor;' thhie ear 

 AVill tell thee if the death I cry 

 Of one of those good deer." 



The Last of the New Forest Deer.— G. F. B. 



I HAVE before had occasion to allude to " Jesse's 

 Anecdotes of Dogs," and to assert that truth in 

 regard to them is infinitely more astonishing than 

 any fiction that man can imagine, and, by way of 

 illustration, I ofter to the public a circumstance, 

 enacted in regard to venison stealers, by myself and 

 my black retriever dog Tramp. Tramp, to all ap- 

 pearance, is a cross between the Newfoundland dog 

 and setter, and was given to me by Mr. Peacocke, of 

 Pilewell Park, as useless to him from his headstrong 

 humour. 1 soon found that the faults complained of 

 M'ere not in Tramp originally, but in his stupid 

 breaker, whoever that man was, who had most de- 

 cidedly whipped them into him. When he did wrong, 

 therefore, I adopted the oil, in an endeavour to soften 

 the vinegai* humours the lash and want of judg- 

 ment had mixed up, checking him only by voice and 

 manner when he was in error, and fondling and ca- 

 ressing him when doing well. The dog really did 

 not seem at first to know wliat a caress was, but 

 seemed to imagine it a prelude to induce him to be 

 caught to undergo punishment. Tramp trained on 

 very well, and he is now a perfect retriever save in 

 one thing — he will run and pick up before he is 



Y 3 



