DOGS IN LONDON 259 
are happier, madly happy, because they know— 
this knowledge having now filtered down into their 
souls—that it is perfectly safe for them to associate 
with their fellows, to be hail-fellow-well-met with 
all the dogs in the place, from the tiniest trembling 
lap-dog to the burliest and most truculent-looking 
bull-dog and the most gigantic St. Bernard or 
Danish boarhound. It is for us a happiness to see 
their confidence, their mad games, the way they 
all chase and tumble over one another, pretending 
to be furious and fighting a grand battle. 
I do not say that there is any radical or any 
permanent change in the dog’s character. Like 
other beasts, he is morally and mentally non- 
progressive; that which the uninformed canophilist 
takes as progression is merely decadence. Remove 
the muzzle, and in a short time the habit which 
the muzzle has bred will fade away and the old 
bickerings and bullyings and blood-sheddings begin 
afresh. As it is, some dogs refuse to let their 
fighting temper rust in spite of the muzzle. 
In Hyde Park some time ago I witnessed a 
sublime but bloodless battle between a Danish 
‘boarhound and a bull-dog. Neither of them lost 
consciousness of the muzzle which prevented them 
from “washing” their teeth in one another’s 
blood; they simply dashed themselves against 
each other, then drew back and dashed together 
again and again, with such fury that they would, 
no doubt, have succeeded in injuring each other 
had not their owners, assisted by several persons 
