HOUSE AND GARDEN 
166 
March, 1915 
H e is built after the model of a thoroughbred race 
horse, lithe and springy 
His coat — the redder the better—must be like pinwire, 
with a wooly underjacket 
When he runs, the Irishman has a free, open swing, 
everlastingly on the alert 
he will also lie for hours at a time on the nursery floor, mauled 
and pulled about by the children. He will run his legs off after 
a tomcat, and he will fearlessly tackle any tramp or burglar; but 
no one ever even thought of him as snappish or bad tempered. 
The Airedale is proverbially a versatile dog, but the Irishman is 
hardly less so. The main difference is one of pounds. The 
Irish terrier is not big enough to hunt grizzlies in the Rockies or 
lions in Africa. The Airedale is too big to be comfortable in the 
house or convenient in the city. 
Years ago in belligerent Belfast, which was the hearthstone 
of the breed's home, the nickname of Daredevil was bestowed 
on the Irish terrier. He is truly a reckless dog, who carries a 
chip delicately balanced on his long, sloping shoulder. His 
rivals have made this the basis of many a jealous slur. ‘‘The 
greater the truth, the greater the libel,” but the Irishman, de¬ 
spite all his liking for an occasional mixup, is not a bad dog. 
True, he is a very touchy dog, quick as lightning to resent any 
familiarity or interference from other dogs. “To be sure," one 
of bis Ulster friends once said to me, “He’s a daredevil, but ah ! 
lie's such a dear devil, and as for a dog that won't fight when 
lie’s picked on, lie’s as bad as a man — worse!” This truly 
Hibernian reasoning is perfectly valid and sound in the case of 
a so thoroughly Irish terrier. One does not have to believe 
that John L. Sullivan is deserving of a niche in the Hall of 
Fame to admire a man who uses his fists to protect his person or 
to answer certain insults. Nor does one have to be a lover of 
dog fights to dislike a dog 
that tucks his tail between 
his legs and cuts for home 
whenever a gutter pup 
comes sniffing about. There 
is not a malicious 
hair in the Irish 
t e r r i e r's w i r v 
jacket. He never 
sets out deliberate- 
1 y to hunt for 
trouble; be never 
“starts things” out 
pure deviltry ; he never plays the bully 
or the thug. He does not scrap without 
an excuse, and his fights are never the 
deadly, grab - the-throat-and-hang-on-till- 
deatli affairs of some other dogs. More¬ 
over, the Irishman’s scrappiness has been 
magnified. Probably he fights no more 
than any other gritty, spirited dog, and, 
since he is amenable to reason, he will, if 
properly brought up, prove to be a re¬ 
markably peaceable canine citizen. 
A difference lies in his 
head—it should be 
wedge shape, and 
dented between the 
eyes 
“Happy is the race,” says the proverb, “that has no history," 
and in this may lie the secret of the Irish terrier’s happy-go-lucky 
disposition. Gallons of good black ink have been spilled over the 
origin of the breed, obscuring, if anything, what was from the 
first a mystery. When all is written, what we know is that the 
breed was discovered, all ready-made, some three-quarters of a 
century ago in the North of Ireland. “Stonehenge,” in his monu¬ 
mental “Book of the Dog," which in the early days was the dog 
fancier’s vcidc mecurn, opened the discussion by boldly declaring 
He is intelligent as well as clever, and he can easily be taught those lessons in etiquette 
and obedience so necessary for his own peace and his master’s pleasure 
that the I rish terrier was nothing more nor less than the common 
or garden variety of terrier that flourished in the Border coun¬ 
ties of England and Scotland about 1800, transplanted and given 
a national name that he did not deserve. The Daredevil’s Irish 
friends came to his rescue, and Mr. R. J. Ridgeway capped the 
climax of all extravagant claims bv stating that there were un¬ 
mistakable references to the dog in sundry ancient Celtic manu¬ 
scripts, chronicles of the Irish kings. He, however, failed dis- 
mallv when the production of the aged parchments was demanded, 
and “Billy” Graham, whose love for the dog won for him the 
soubriquet of “The Irish Ambassador,” very properly poked fun 
