CHAPTER XVIII 



" THe day wears late, — I cau but try 

 Remain with ' Tlior ' ; thiue ear 

 Will 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 offer to the public a circumstance 

 enacted in regard to vension-stealers, by myself and my black 

 retriever dog Tramp. Tramp, to all appearance, 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-. I soon found that the faults complained 

 of were not in Tramp originally, but in his stupid breaker, who- 

 ever that man was, who had most decidedly whipped them into 

 him. 'When' he did wrong, therefore, I adopted the oil, in an 

 endeavour to soften the vinegar humours the lash and want of 

 judgment had mixed up, checking him only by voice and 

 manner when he was in error, and fondling and caressing him 

 when doing well. The dog really did not seem at first to know 

 what 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 i-un and pick up before he is bidden to do so. He there- 

 fore only accompanies me in wild ground, where his running in 



