FANCIERS’ JOURNAL AND POULTRY EXCHANGE. 
657 
pOG AND JvABBIT p EPARJ M ENT. 
OUR DEACON’S DOG. 
Keeno, my neighbor’s dog, is a black and tan, medium 
size, three years old, and since his more extended acquaint- 
ance among the neighbors, they also regard him as peculiar, 
although the family, in which he had but one real master 
(the Deacon), always thought him singular. 
When a pup he was even dogmatic, for often when his 
mistress would attempt to drive him from the room, she in 
turn was the one to be driven, and he was pronounced to be 
the most persistent little creature that ever walked on four 
legs. I, myself, learned this trait to my cost, for when I 
should have let him alone, and not insisted on the last slap 
on the tight hide that covered his little wiry body, he re- 
turned the compliment as I might expect, and I carried the 
scar for a long time where he wounded me with his sharp 
needle teeth. 
But Keeno, as he increased in age, became more amiable, 
and seemed to be attached to those who treated him kindly. 
He frequently followed the young men to their store, and 
from there was easily induced to cross the road to a grist- 
mill, and as war to the death against rats seemed to be so 
large a part of his nature, he really liked the privilege of a 
raid upon those destroyers of grain (and chickens). These 
pests would often get into the elevator, and baffle all skill of 
the operatives for their destruction. Finally, when it was 
ascertained that they rode to the very top and thence escape, 
Keeno was set to watch in the attic, and the rat that had 
taken refuge in the elevator would be emptied from the cups 
at the turn of the wheel, and the supple little sentinel was 
sure to make a coup de grace of each one in their turn. But 
the miller owned a dog that was really more pugnacious 
than Keeno, and ever disputed with others of his kind for 
every inch of floor in that mill. One day, when Keeno had 
gone to the second story, his enemy followed, and firmly 
guarded every way of escape but by the open front door, 
and of course seemed to have a good thing on the intruder, 
whose business was, or ought to be, over in the store. But 
Keeno, nothing daunted, walked deliberately to the door, 
and, instead of making a wild leap for the roadway, coolly 
slipped from the sill to the platform projecting from the 
lower doors, and thence made good his escape. 
But the crowning act of this dog’s career, and the one we 
challenge for an equal, occurred in the Deacon’s carriage- 
house and horse-barn. One morning the dog had accompa- 
nied his master unobserved, until seen running quickly to 
and fro between him and a barrel partly covered, in which 
meal had been kept. As soon as this was a little farther re- 
moved, Keeno, with a bound, was there, and by some unac- 
countable movement wriggled himself into the barrel, and 
sooner than I am telling it, was out again, having slain three 
rats that had got into the barrel during the night, and the 
little hero flew around the barn, and seemed to say, Show 
me another with six rats, and I’ll dispose of them in a gift'. 
Wm. Atwood. 
Big Flats, N. Y. 
and asks, “ Have any of your readers heard of anything 
similar?” I have an Angora doe that took the buck 
August 1st and on the 25th. I, like Mr. H., noticing she 
showed no appearance of increase, put her in with the buck 
and she was served four times ; but on the 1st of September 
she kindled, had a fine litter of ten ; they are now all alive 
and doing well. I have, therefore, come to the conclusion 
that if a doe, with young, is put in with a strong, vigorous 
buck, she will sometimes take him to save being bit and 
tormented. 
Yours truly, C. H. Stoke. 
Cleveland, Sept. 28th, 1874. 
THE DOG. 
We take the following from M. Blaze’s “ History of the 
Dog.” 
The dog possesses, incontestably, all the qualities of a 
sensible man ; and, I grieve to say, man has not, in general, 
the noble qualities of the dog. We make a virtue of grati- 
tude, which is only a- duty. This virtue, this duty, is in- 
herent in the dog. We brand ingratitude, and yet all men 
are ungrateful. It is a vice which commences in the cradle, 
and grows with our growth, and, together with selfishness, 
becomes almost always the grand mover of human actions. 
The dog knows not the word virtue ; that which we dignify 
by this title, and admire as a rare thing — and very rare it 
is, in truth — constitutes his normal state. Where will you 
find a man always grateful, always affectionate, never self- 
ish, pushing the abnegation of self to the utmost limits of 
possibility; without gain, devoted even to death; without 
ambition, rendering service, — in short, forgetful of injuries 
and mindful only of benefits received? Seek him not — it 
would be a useless task ; but take the first dog you meet, 
and from the moment he adopts you as his master you will 
find in him all these qualities. He will love you without 
calculation entering into his affections. His greatest happi- 
ness will be to be near you ; and should you be reduced to 
beg your bread, not only will he aid you in this difficult 
trade, but he would not abandon you to follow even a king 
into his palace. Your friends will quit you in misfortune — 
your wife, perhaps, will forget her plighted troth ; but your 
dog will remain always near you ; or, if you depart before 
him on the great voyage, he will accompany you to your 
last abode. 
“Who cut your rabbit’s throat, Mr. Yan Snoodle ? ” 
“ Kud der tuyfil, I don’t vas avare of dot. Vere she vas 
ven you seen him, eh?” “Why,” said the wag, turning 
his head away to hide his mirth, “I saw Him-a-lay-an out 
in the yard, An-gora too.” Out flew the teutonic fancier, 
but soon returned with an expression of rage and disgust on 
his countenance. “ You makes a humbug mit me, my rab- 
ids vas alridt.” “ I didn’t say they were not, I only asked 
and said I saw your Himalayan and Angora out there.” 
“ Yell, I might of node dat den dimes oud of nine I could’nt 
belief myself ven you told somedings. Valk up, shendel- 
mans, it vas your dreat. Yat you dook, beer don’t it? ” 
A SINGULAR CASE. 
Under the above heading in Journal No. 31, Mr. Halsted 
says : “ A fine Angora doe of his took the buck on the 19th, 
and on the 12th of the following month she took him again,” 
When a Tennessee husband will horsewhip his wife 
for washing potatoes in his Sunday plug hat, it is time to 
inquire whether this generation of men isn’t getting to be 
too confounded high-toned for the age of the country ? 
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