178

The Luckiest Dog Alive.

aristocratic-looking man, but a suffering martyr to the gout, which

confined him mostly to his own rooms; and, every forenoon, his wife left him, at his own request, to vary the monotony of a sick man's chamber by a walk in the beautiful neighbourhood that surrounded the town. Her constant companions were myself and my two predecessors, who had been rescued by her from untimely fates, as I had been. But I

must confess that I was ashamed of their company. The ugly are more intolerant of ugliness than those who are better looking. Persons who are nobody do not like to be seen in company with those who are nobody. When Augustus Fitz-Nibbs (a son of Nibbs, the cocoa dealer), while walking with a distinguished friend on the promenade, was joined by Mr. Snooks, he made a dead stop, and looked vacantly before him; and Mr. Snooks, being a modest man, drew off. In my lonely wanderings through the streets, I have seen similar instances a thousand times. It was the same with myself. The sole drawback to my present happiness was having to go out in company with those despicable-looking There was no character in their ugliness. Now, in my own, I flattered myself there was. But I generally jumped, barking playfully, in advance

creatures.

of them, to the evident amusement of my protectress.

He

This delightful mode of existence-well-kennelled at night, well fed twice a day, kindly noticed, and with regular exercise-lasted for two or three years, when Mrs. Gauntlet, after a short illness, died. I grieved for her, as dogs often grieve for such a loss; and I do not know what might have been my fate, had not Colonel Gauntlet, who had sincerely loved his wife, determined that her pets should be taken care of. was in somewhat better health, and able to go out in a Bath-chair, and he smiled one of his faint smiles as I gambolled and barked in front of him, to the occasional annoyance of the promenaders. He was also greatly amused-and, when he told it, expected his friends also to be amused-at my habit of sitting upon my haunches in front of his dressing-room window, and looking up and barking till he came down for his daily ride in the chair. He did not, however, long survive his wife. An attack of his old enemy killed him, and I might have considered that my good fortune was now indeed at an end. But he had provided against

this

in his will. The housekeeper, who had been the frequent companion of my walks when her mistress or master were unable, was left an annuity on condition of producing me to the executor in good health and condition once a month; and as the executor was a worthy solicitor, who was empowered, in failure of the prescribed condition, to give the annuity to an hospital in which he took great interest, Mrs. Perkins took special heed that either by herself or her friends I should be well taken care of.

Her friends were sundry tradespeople to whom she had made Colonel Gauntlet a most profitable customer, and on whose good offices she had some hold. Independent of this, I was a favourite; especially at the greengrocer's, whose shop I preferred, because he had a garden as well; and one of the men who lived there, and brought in daily supplies of vegetables, had taken a great fancy to me. His name was John Marsh, and at his cottage in the garden I now chiefly lived, running by his side as a companion on his many visits to the shop. Alas, poor fellow! his was to be a cruel fate.

If any of the great painters of actual life-a Faed, or an O'Neill

hanging or being

is about

The Luckiest Dog Alive.

creation.

lost-the latter seemed preferable, as miserable an animal as any Had I come from Captain Fane's difficulty in retracing my steps.

though

177

lost dog

a in by the road, I should have had little As it was, I could only go back to the railway station, and whenever I saw the guard who had taken charge of the hamper, I made an attempt to get into one of the carriages; but I

was

always

pulled back

by the

neck,

and I was at last expelled from the

my

tioner's, was sufficient to keep me follow any of

the entrance benevolent from starvation;

of

old

but

a butcher's shop, or a gentleman at a confecif I attempted to

benefactors to their homes, a stern "Go! go

me that I was not wanted, and my lonely nights were spent in an area, or in a stable-yard, or on a door-step.

My visits to the confectioner's were so regular, that I Mr. Darcy Sharpe was quizzed at the club for feeding subscription, and, being painfully sensitive to ridicule, Tom, that if he could find me, he was to fasten a string round my neck, and bring me home. He should dispose of me without any difficulty. The next day we met, and the young Sharpe House prepared to fulfil his mission. With treacherous caresses this precocious Judas began to secure me, when, roused by a sense of wrong, and remembering Who would be free themselves must strike the blow,

I left an impression upon his fingers which he did not soon forget. He never made another attempt, and I always after got quickly out of the way at sight of any of the family.

Then came a succession of miserable days and more miserable nights. If I rested even on a door-step, I was driven away; if I entered a yard,. I was driven out; every one's hand seemed to be against me; and to a dog, to whose happiness human sympathy is essential, this brought a sense of desolation that, had I been a human being, would have ended in self-destruction.

At last, as I was lying under the portico of an uninhabited house, where I had passed a wretched time-for the winter, with its chilly nights, was now commencing-languidly opening my eyes, I saw looking at me, with a kind expression, a lady who, though not handsome nor well dressed, had an unmistakable air of good breeding and good society. She was accompanied by two "curs of mysterious pedigree," who came timidly sniffing up to me; and when she said, in a voice like music, "Come, poor fellow, you don't seem happy!" I rose, and approached her. She took a piece of bread out of a velvet bag, and, as soon as I had eaten it, she repeated her "Come, poor fellow!" in so unquestionable a tone, that, to her evident satisfaction, I followed her.

From this moment I was the luckiest dog alive.

I kept my eye upon my protectress much more carefully than upon Mr. Darcy Sharpe's carriage, till we arrived at a handsome stone house, which I soon found was to be my future home. This estimable lady I discovered to be the wife of a Colonel Gauntlet. He was a tall, fine,

176

The Luckiest Dog Alive.

resumed; "but why not keep two? why not three? There is the field

profitable

behind the kitchen-garden, which is put to no purpose. It will give them grass enough; I shall have sometimes to buy hay; but there will be occasionally a calf to sell; Chalks has told me that he will take all the milk that I don't want; and, upon the whole, I have no doubt there will be a profit. Even if not, I can save it in a thousand ways.' This quotation from a forgotten comedy was his universal reply when his pretty and prudent wife attempted to check his love of spending; but it did not appear that any of these thousand ways was ever discovered. She yielded, however, as usual. The cows were bought; and a very good thing my friend Chalks made of his bargain. Captain Fane saw very little of his customer's money. Instead of cash there was a supply of winter potatoes, or a fat turkey, which had just arrived by an Irish steamer; or "perhaps the captain would like a beautiful side of dairyfed pork," bought in a back street of the neighbouring seaport, at about forty per cent. less than the price charged for it. At last I was myself placed to the credit of the milk account, at the moderate price of two guineas. Captain Fane thought that I should make an excellent yarddog; but I was too amiable, and having allowed a policeman to pass through the yard without barking at him, it was determined that I should be got rid of as soon as possible. The opportunity was not long wanting. His friend Mr. Darcy Sharpe, who lived in the next county, had been inquiring for a house-dog; so I was packed up in a hamper and sent by rail; and I must say there are worse modes of travelling than the inside of a hamper. It saved me from a good deal of kicking and cuffing, and it was only while in the delivery-cart that my transit was disagreeable. Whenever a package near me had to be looked for, I was tossed aside with a perfect disregard of this side up, and had to right myself as well as I could. It was soon over. I was delivered at Mr. Darcy Sharpe's, and the hamper, having been sent to the stable-yard, was opened by a groom with the exclamation of " My wig, what a rummy-looking brute!" In a few minutes Mr. Sharpe came, accompanied by three rough boys and three very pretty girls. His remark, on seeing me, was as little flattering as the groom's:

"He may be a good house-dog, Tom, but he is certainly as ugly a beast as I would wish to see.'

"What kind of dog is he,

pa

Why, I should think, Tom, he is a cross between a fox-hound and a lizard."

The bright days of my life had not yet arrived. I was evidently regarded with increasing dislike, and one day I heard Mr. Sharpe say to

his son:

"I can't bear the sight of the disgusting creature. We must either lose him, Tom, or hang him."

All this was exceedingly disagreeable, and rather alarming. Though so ugly, I found myself frequently chosen to follow the carriage when they went shopping to a large town about five miles off; and, as a melancholy state of mind is not very favourable to observation, I at last failed to keep my eye upon the family vehicle, and was left behind.

I do not mean to say that I could not have found my way back to Sharpe House, but to what could it have led? Of the two alternatives

The Luckiest Dog Alive.

Our birth is but a sleep, and a forgetting:
The soul that rises in us, our life's star,
Hath had elsewhere its setting.*

You will find that it is

this

Which makes the present (while the flash doth last) mere semblance of some

Seem a But such "eternal blazon must not be."

175

unknown

past.† We become

dumb animals to

prevent it; and it is not merely for the " shedding of man's blood" that

we are

made

accountable beings.

I

may

tell

you

of my

life as a dog;

but

beyond

permitted

to reveal

the

past.

this I am not There is not much to boast of in my descent. My father was an otter-hound; my mother was a turnspit; and like all other mésalliances, it brought evil consequences. Though I had an imposing gravity of expression in my face, its effect was destroyed by the ludicrous appearance of my forelegs, which curved outwards like those of a cabriole footstool. In colour I was entirely black, with the exception of a small white spot on my breast, and my length of body was altogether disproportioned to my height.

While yet a small pup I was given to a gentleman-everybody is a gentleman, I find, now-a-days, and, if brought before the public for some atrocious crime, is said to "have occupied a high position in society" and the gentleman to whom I was given was Mr. William Chalks, of Pump-alley. He was by profession-trades and callings being abolished he was by profession a milkman, and was called by his companions Will Chalks, or Bill Chalks, or Bill, or plain Chalks, according to their degree of intimacy or relative appreciation. He laughed when he brought me home, and named me Punch, probably because he thought me funny (like the pages of my namesake), for in colour I more resembled "the gentleman" who sometimes forms another of the dramatis persone in the public performances of that wooden Roscius.

Amongst Mr. Chalk's customers was a Captain Fane, who had a very pretty wife, and a son-an only child, whose bodily and mental development was the great object of his life. He had been told by Accum and Wakley, and their successors, till he firmly believed it, that all we eat and drink is merely poison in disguise; and for the sake of his son he had an especial horror of the adulteration of milk. The mere possibility that his child might grow up with a mound of limestone attached to some of his more important viscera was intolerable, and led him to devise a remedy. "My dear Clara," he said to his wife one evening, "I am going to buy a cow. I believe Chalks is honest-indeed I consider him as honest as most men-but really these adulterations have become so much a part of a man's business that he does not think them wrong. I cannot expect Chalks to be the only exception.' His wife reminded him that a single cow would not always be in milk. Certainly not," he

The origin of all these fancies appears to have been Plato's speculation in the "Phodo."

Genesis, ch. ix. v. 5.

N 2

up

No other hand could master those complicated chords and take the thread where it was broken off. And all the people knew that a prince and a great man had fallen that day; a ruler not merely in name but in power. This morning, lusty and strong; this evening, dead as those who died beneath the walls of Troy.

I AM not about to chronicle the bonnes fortunes of some jeune homme charmant, or the delights of inheriting an unexpected five thousand a year. I am not going to describe the feelings of the poet who "wakes and finds himself famous;" nor to be the historian of Napoleon III. The memoirs I offer are literally those of a DOG, and all that followsincredible as it may appear-was communicated to me by himself.

I will not advert (so ran his narrative) to our accidental discovery of the electro-biological affinity which enabled us to communicate our thoughts. Should your own intellectual nature be united, for a new probation, to the body of a monkey or a cat, as mine has been to that of a dog, you will better understand the language both of Plato and of your own poets; and will feel as they did, that

* E. B. Browning, "Cowper's Grave."-Mr. Motley's saying, that William "went through life bearing the load of a people's sorrows upon his shoulders with a smiling face," may remind us of two seemingly opposed stanzas in the same

poem:

O men! this man in brotherhood,

Your weary paths beguiling,
Groaned inly while he taught you peace,

And died while ye were smiling:

the next verse telling how

-when, one by one, sweet sounds

And wandering lights departed,
He wore no less a loving face
Because so broken-hearted.

† Iliad (Mr. Pope's again), book xvi.