96 THE GARDEN OF A 



coat lightly touched with black is in a sad condition 

 being thickly matted with burrs. 



He forgot himself last evening and his dignity as a 

 bird-dog, to go out with some farmers and their 

 clever mongrel curs with whom he was acquainted, 

 on a coon hunt. The poor fellow didn't even get a 

 sniff at the coon, but brought home half the burrs 

 and sticktights this side of the charcoal camp, mak- 

 ing a nice bit of work for me ; for as soon as he is 

 rested, I must get him in shape again with the aid of 

 an oily comb. Then Tim can wash him, but Tim is 

 too rough with a comb. You mustn't lunge at the 

 silky coat of a beautiful Gordon setter with the same 

 vigorous swish that is used to curry a horse. 



The last two dogs of the group are twins, young 

 fox hounds of something under a year, and full of 

 promise. They have good bone, and are coated in 

 white and tan with a shading of black that brings 

 out their points. Their drooping ears are well set, 

 and their eyes of lustrous softness seem to follow 

 every movement that I make. This is their first visit 

 to the attic and its rainy-day comfort, so they are 

 lying humbly on the outside of the stove circle as 

 befits newcomers. 



They belong to Evan and me, having been sent to 

 welcome us on our return by a countryman of his in 



