78 MEMORIES OF GLENAUGH. 



with an arrow from his unerring bow. I am 

 surrounded with guns and dogs, and with tro- 

 phies of Uncle Joe's deeds with his Manton. 

 There, over the chimney-piece, is the famous 

 solitary snipe bagged in Murphy's bogs. Next 

 to the solitary snipe is our bittern, slain by 

 Jack Sullivan with a shillelagh as it darted 

 from a bunch of reeds. In a case next to it 

 you will perceive Flirt, the last of a breed of 

 pointers known as the button-tailed, and which 

 were, in truth, as destitute of natural rudders 

 as the Manx cats. My uncle was an excellent 

 judge of dogs, and a capital trainer; but I 

 have not been either as fortunate or perhaps so 

 skilful. Perhaps a few of my experiences may 

 serve to amuse the reader. 



I believe every dog has a character as dis- 

 tinctive and as marked as that of a man or 

 a woman, and not only are the characteristics 

 apparent, but at times dogs exhibit a curious 

 individuality of temperament. There are odd 

 dogs as well as odd people, and I think my 

 pointer Sam was the oddest brute that ever 

 wagged a tail. 



I purchased him for thirty shillings from a 



