THE DOG. 



about with considerable liveliness, promoted in some degree 

 by the attendant who stirs them up with his foot. And now 

 I perceive in Pincher a want of generalship which makes me 

 very much incUned to back time, if I knew how to do it. In- 

 stead of steadily sticking to one heap, and finishing it off 

 before he begins on another, he allows himself to be seduced 

 into desultory dashes at loose and unattached rats which 

 sometimes lead him a long chase, and entail on him a con- 

 siderable waste of time and breath. I am airaid the excel- 

 lent dog has never read Coleridge's useful Httle book on 

 Method. 



" Meantime the clock, as Bon Gaultier says, is ' ticking 

 onwards,' and the tale of rats is far from complete. The floor 

 is strewn with the jerking bodies of the moribund, but the 

 living stni muster pretty strong in the comers, and dodge 

 between Pincher's legs with provoking activity, and now the 

 excitement becomes perfectly savage. The backers of time, 

 who were at first a little despondent, are in high feather, as 

 the minute-hand approaches the fatal point, while the sup- 

 porters of Pinoher bang the sides of the pit with the frantic 

 energy of despair, and stimulate their champion with yells of 

 ' Hi, Pincber ! ' 'Ah, Pincher ! ' ' Tah, Pinoher ! ' ' Hurrah, 

 Pincher ! ' Pincher himself looks as if it had dawned on him 

 that he has overrated himself. StiQ he buckles to his work 

 dogfully, and chops, and snaps, and crunches, with the perse- 

 vering pluck of a bull-terrier and a Briton. But no, my 

 Pinoher ; it is not to be done — on this occasion, at least. The 

 decisive word is uttered ; time is up. One more victory is 

 added to the triumphs of that calm old vanquisher of dogs and 

 men ; one more laurel is turned round his bald brow. Time 

 is the victor by nine rats ; and Pincher the vanquished leaves 

 the pit a sadder and a wiser dog. As I go out I see him at 

 the bar in conversation with a rough Scotch-terrier. He is 

 evidently telling him how, after the sixty-fourth rat, he knew 

 he had no chance, and how he never could kill rats satisfac- 

 torily in that pit." 



Of course, it is only by constant attention to the breed of 

 the bull-terrier that it is reduced to its naturally light and 

 elegant shape, while it stiU retains in its blood all the " bull." 

 The first progeny of the true terrier and the buU-dog, although 

 decidedly far from beautiful, is excellent for activity and 

 indomitable pluck. It was one of these that Mr. Anderson — 

 of Lake Ngami celebrity — possessed, and in the praise of which 



