THE DOG. 155 
ity of acquiring and power of retaining what is taught 
him, the delight which he evidently takes in performing 
his duties well, his sensibility to applause or censure, 
entirely apart from reward or punishment, his singular 
semi-human comprehension of our words and meanings, 
his gratitude for kindness, his patience of injustice and 
cruelty, his wonderful instinctive powers, and yet more 
wonderful gropings and strugglings in the dark—so easily 
perceived by those who are observant of his character and 
actions—after something clearer and more spiritual than 
mere instinet, entitle him to be regarded and treated by 
his master, as something far beyond the mere brute; and 
so to treat him will full well repay the master both in sat- 
isfaction and in service. 
It used to be held a maxim, in my youth, that the dog 
of chase should be retained as much as possible a mere 
brute—that to cultivate his intelligence, nurture his 
affections, accustom him to understand your wishes and 
share your pleasures, was to unfit him for field service; 
and that, when a dog came to love his master, the only 
thing was to hang him. 
Happily, like many other brutal and barbarous errors 
of our immediate ancestors of the eighteenth century, who 
always appear to me to have taken a retrograde step 
in true civilization and refinement, and to have been the 
rudest and most boorish of mankind, these maxims con- 
cerning dog management are all found to be based on 
error, and have all consequently fallen into disrepute and 
disuse. With the exception of the admitted fact that a 
house dog can rarely be kept a first-rate field-dog, how- 
