Nature and Art, March 1, 1867.] 
BIZZ AND HER FOES, 
67 
Ninon’s warning growl, which plainly meant, 
“ take care ; ” then a rush on the part of dogs and 
cats to pillage, and on Ninon’s to restrain ; then at 
last a regular melee. Ninon, who occupied the 
middle of the table, rapidly dealing a snap here 
and a snarl there, succeeded pretty well in keeping 
off the cats, but the two greyhounds were generally 
too much for her ; so the fear that she might lose 
her temper, and inflict a severe bite on one of 
them, always, sooner or later, brought me on to the 
field to terminate the skirmish. 
There was no doubt that Folly was a greater fool 
than Jessy, for Jessy was sly: the latter had 
sufficient intelligence to be very cunning, stealing 
and hiding things she fancied, but Folly took what 
she desired, openly, and never hid even a bone. 
They all differed from grand old Rose, a fine 
noble dog, such a dog as you make an out-door 
companion and friend of, in the country ; who walks 
with you, sympathizes with you, and does all but 
talk, and gets through even a little of that, in its 
own way. She was a cross between a retriever and 
a Newfoundland. She would not kill rats herself, 
but she used to watch their haunts in the bank of 
the pond, and take a little, grubby, rat-catching 
terrier, whom she patronized (he was a visitor, not 
an inmate), to the holes, show them to him one 
after another, and leave him to do the dirty work 
when he read under the shadow of our acacia trees, 
Rose would sit for ten or more minutes with her 
nose on his knee looking at him with her small 
dark eyes, patient as Grizel, and then, in addition 
to her nose, would put up her paw, and wait again. 
When these arts failed to woo the notice she 
coveted, she would go behind him, place her two 
paws on the back of the iron seat, and then in a 
moment snatch off his hat, and gal lop with it to 
the other end of the lawn. That was certain to 
commence the game of the romps she loved so well. 
Rear, faithful Rose ! You ought to have passed 
your winters in the stable, with the horse you 
understood, or with the wee pony, who was not 
much bigger than your dear self : the winter 
kennel did not sufficiently protect you against the 
cold, and you became rheumatic, and died before 
your time ; but we had happy days and happy 
rambles together, over Weybridge Common, and 
among the brushwood and hollows of St. George’s 
blithe and pleasant hill. Other rambles we had 
nearer home, when the Italian greyhounds were 
taken for “ change of air ” to the Chertsey meadows, 
where the ruins of the fine old abbey can be traced 
beneath the waving grass, or up and about St. 
Anne’s Hill, where I looked out for the proud 
castle of Windsor, while you tried hard to catch a 
hare, or even a rabbit; but they were too swift for 
himself. She loved her master dearly, and always 
endeavoured by her gentle, dignified caresses to 
attract his attention ; but, like most of his sex, the 
knowledge of his power made him exercise it, and 
you, my own old Rose ! You grew fat and heavy 
while you ought to have continued slim and 
genteel. I loved you for the sake of her who 
gave you to us, and because you were like the 
