346 



RECREA TION, 



his family conveyed to me a message, 

 from his wife, that the puppy had killed 

 a lot of her fowls, and that if I would 

 stop, on my way down the county, I 

 might have her. Of course I stopped. 

 Wealth never made a man as happy as 

 the possession of that puppy made me. 

 That was before the day of pedigrees, 

 and I never knew who Vic's parents 

 were ; but whoever they were she was 

 a thoroughbred and her descendants, to 

 this day, have no superiors. For over 

 a year she slept on the foot of my bed 

 at the University of Virginia. I could 

 shoot then, and was both student 



my brother's old Van Dorn were a pair 

 to be proud of. 



In those days the question of endur- 

 ance related to the huntsman and not 

 to the dogs. I never heard men ask 

 whether a dog would last. The ques- 

 tion was whether the man would last. 

 Now, every one asks, "Will the dog 

 last ? " I cannot account for the change 

 unless the latter-day dog is weighed 

 down so by his pedigree that it fatigues 

 him. 



About 1870, the dog shows began. At 

 that time I was hunting some mighty 

 good dogs. There was Judge Crump's 



WOOTEN-GAME AND DUKE OF HESSEN. 

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



and teacher. Vic was the first dog I 

 ever had the joy of breaking. I was 

 with her the first time she ever scented 

 a bird, and, from that time on, I had 

 the exquisite satisfaction which every 

 teacher feels at watching the develop- 

 ment and expansion of a pupil. 



Vic was a wonder of intelligence, 

 affection and beauty. She became a 

 famous fielder, and her puppies were 

 sought for far and near. She was 

 very prolific and to this day her de- 

 scendants may be found in Virginia, 

 West Virginia and Alabama. She and 



old Shot, a setter ; and John Gill's 

 double-nosed dog ; and Tasso, the dog 

 Dick Selden gave me, who would 

 sometimes fight me in the field ; but 

 none of them were "pedigreed." The 

 craze for pedigreed dogs struck me, 

 along with the rest, and luck appeased 

 the longing when Mr. A. H. Moore 

 gave me dear old Beulah. Since she 

 came, I have been, what I consider, a 

 conscientious breeder of the best strain 

 of pointers. I do not, however, like to 

 be called " a pointer man." It seems a 

 sort of reflection on the setters, and far 



