126 STAG-HUNTING RECOLLECTIONS 



friend, Mr. John Tubb, the eminent AVinchester horse-dealer,, 

 who is still enjoying an honourable and esteemed retirement 

 from affairs in that city, with a fine representative of his 

 breed. AVhen I knew this dog he was as blind as Homer, 

 and no great company, but he was a favourite in the yard, 

 and Mr. Tubb used often to sing his praises and exploits to 

 the disparagement of a fine muscovy drake, also well stricken 

 in years, which I believe he originally acquired as a bad debt, 

 and to which he had never taken kindly. I forget the blood- 

 hound's name, but I think it was Conqueror or Eufus. It 

 had a Norman smack about it, certainly. He was a reddish 

 dog ; indeed, from age and grisliness he might have been called 

 roan, with only a saddle of rusty black. Mr. Nevill bred 

 them to black and tan, and to the richest of both colours ; 

 he drafted them hard for colour, and never used a faint- 

 coloured dog. This one, I rather fancy, was drafted on this 

 account, as I believe, although he had nasty flat feet and in- 

 eligible fore-legs, he was a good-looking hound of his sort. 

 It was difhcult to judge of his intelligence — a quality claimed 

 for the St. Huberts — as he was not only afflicted, but passed 

 his time always on the chain. He would, however, sometimes 

 set up a noble bay of recognition on his master's approach, 

 and upon one of these exhibitions of instinct and good-feeling 

 I remember John Tubb quoting the first verse of ' Old Dog 

 Tray ' with visible emotion. He also fetched some plum- 

 cake for him, of which Eufus was very fond. Upon one 

 occasion Rufus was all but settled by the depot coach get- 

 ting hung up on his chain and kennel, which was located at 

 the entrance to the yard. He was extricated with difficulty 

 and half throttled by over-close relations with a soft wheeler 

 we called Delilah, whose numbness was the ' causa mali ' — at 

 least, so the coachman declared. But I must not be led 

 away into reminiscences of ' Our yard,' as Mr. Tubb always 

 styled it in the converse we daily held together, and when 



