THE POINTER, PAST AND PRESENT. 



Hon. John S. Wise. 



I 



have been 

 breeding 

 pointers since 

 the year 1859, 

 when I was 

 about twelve 

 years old, and 

 with the ex- 

 ception of the 

 years 1862, 3 

 and 4, when 

 everybody 

 was man hunt- 

 ing instead of bird hunting, I have 

 been the proud possessor of at least 

 one good dog of this breed. 



The first pointer I ever called my own, 

 was a dog named " Brack," which, I am 

 forced to admit, I stole from Mr. Charles 

 Darracott, of Richmond. My father 

 was governor, and Darracott was a 

 handsome young fellow, living at what 

 was known then as the old Powhatan 

 House. It was located opposite the 

 Capitol Square, where I played. Brack 

 was an inmate of the Powhatan House 

 yard, and was frequently in the square. 

 Darracott neglected him and he and 

 I became warm friends. Brack was 

 a perfect beauty. He was the very 



counterpart in form and color of the 

 famous Sensation of later days, and it 

 was Sensation's resemblance to Brack 

 that, 20 years later, made me so fond of 

 him, although he never had half Brack's 

 sense, or nose, or endurance. 



In the fall of 1859 I was sent to the 

 home of a relative in the country, to at- 

 tend a school, where the children of a 

 number of wealthy planters were taught, 

 by a dear old Presbyterian minister. It 

 was 20 miles above Richmond, on the 

 James river. The morning I started 

 Brack showed up. He went with me 

 to the academy and Darracott never saw 

 him again. He was the first dog with 

 which I ever went shooting alone, and 

 there never was a better. His disgust 

 at my efforts at shooting has many a 

 time made me awfully ashamed, when 

 no one else was present. There never 

 was a dog of better disposition or greater 

 intelligence. He knew every covey of 

 birds within three miles of Eastwood. 

 He could find and point them, to the 

 Queen's taste. And there the trouble 

 began. I would bang and blaze and pop 

 and miss. Brack loved me so much, he 

 was slow to wrath, but sometimes the 

 thing would become unbearable. Then 



CROXTETH AND SENSATION. 

 From a painting by J. M. Tracy. By kind permission of Mr. C. Klackner, No. 7 West 28th st., New York. 



344 



