THE GRIFFON BRUXELLOIS 



I'm a gay tra, /a, /a, 

 With my fal, la I, la, la, 

 And my bright 

 And my light 

 Tra, la, la. 



BRET HARTE. 



IF you meet a dashing man about town, with a ferocious beard 

 and moustache, a very much abbreviated nose and an ape-like 

 face, you may be sure that he is a Griffon Bruxellois, or, as he is 

 more familiarly termed, a Brussels Griffon. If his inches are few, 

 and his weight is not more than from five to ten pounds, he has all 

 the militant carriage and gay debonnair of an accomplished 

 worldling. Cheek, impudence, pluck, confidence are all his, mixed 

 with, perhaps, a good deal of braggadocia. A modern High School 

 Miss might even say that he had swank, a word which once excited 

 the curiosity of Mr. Justice Darling when trying a case arising out 

 of an election. With all that innocence permitted to the judicial 

 bench, he enquired if it were a local term peculiar to Lowes toft. 

 I regret to say Counsel seemed to regard it as a vulgar word, 



