beings do, theyfind the hard, stony streets very punishing to their poor little softfeet. Then they miss the green fields in which they used to romp, thehawthorn fences near which they used to find the hedgehog and mole, thecrystal streams at which they were wont to quench their thirst, and theponds in which they bathed or swam. Besides, there is danger for dogsin London. The danger of losing their way, the danger of being stolen,and the still greater danger of being run over by carts or carriages.But that isn't all, for in the country you can keep even a long-hairedSkye clean--clean enough, indeed, to sleep on the hearthrug, or evencurl himself up on ottoman or couch, without his leaving any more markor trace than my lady's muff or the Persian pussy does; but aSkye-terrier in London is quite a different piece of furniture. Londonmud is proverbially black and sticky, and when a Skye gets thoroughlysoused in it, why, not to put too fine a point on it, he isn't just thesort of pet one would care to put under his head as a pillow.
Taking Pepper to London, therefore, would have involved endless washingsof him, the risk of his catching cold, and, dreadful thought! the riskof offending the servants. True, he might be kept to the kitchen, butbanished from the society of his dear mistress, and compelled toassociate with servants and the kitchen cat; why, poor little Pepperwould simply have broken his heart.
So the question came to be asked--
"Maggie, dear, what _shall_ we do with Pepsy?"
"Oh! I have it," said Maggie; "send him down to Brighton on a visit todear Mrs W--y; she is such a kind creature, knows all the ways ofanimals so well; and, moreover, Pepper is on the best of terms with heralready."
So the proposal was agreed to, and a few days afterwards Mrs W--yreceived her little visitor very graciously indeed, and Pepper waspleased to express his approval of the welcome accorded him, and soonsettled down, and became very happy in his Brighton home. His greatestdelight was going out with his temporary mistress for a ramble; therewas so much to be seen and inquired into, so many pretty children whopetted him, so many ladies who admired him, and so many little doggiesto see and talk to and exchange opinions on canine politics. But Pepperused to express his delight at going for a walk in a way which his newmistress deemed anything but dignified. People don't generally careabout having all eyes directed towards them on a public thoroughfarelike the Brighton esplanade, or King's Road. But Pepper didn't care abark who looked at him. He was intoxicated with joy, and didn't mindwho knew it; consequently, he used, when taken out, to go through aseries of the most wonderful acrobatic evolutions ever seen at a seasidewatering-place, or anywhere else. He jumped and barked, and chased histail, rolled and tumbled, leapt clean over his own head and back again,and even made insane attempts to jump down his own throat. Inside,Pepper was content to romp and roll on the floor with a pet guinea-pig,and chase it or be chased by it round and round the room, or tenderlyplay with some white mice; but no sooner was his nose outside the gardengate, than Pepper felt himself in duty bound to take leave of his senseswithout giving a moment's warning, and conduct himself in everyparticular just like a daft doggie, and had there been a lunatic asylumat Brighton for caninity, I haven't a doubt that Pepper would have soonfound himself an inmate of it.
One day when out walking, Pepper met a little long-haired dog about hisown size and shape, but whereas Pepper was dressed like a gentlemanSkye, in coat of hodden-grey, this little fellow was more like a merryman at a country fair, or a clown at a circus. He had been originallywhite, pure white, but his master had dyed him, and now he appeared in ablue body, a magenta tail, and ears of brightest green.
"I say, mistress," said Pepper, looking up and addressing the lady whohad charge of him, "did you--ever--in--all--your--born--days--see such afright as that?"
"Hullo!" he continued, talking to the little dog himself, "who let youout like that?"
"Well," replied the new-comer, "I dare say I do look a little odd, butyou'll get used to me by-and-by."
"Used to you?" cried Pepper--"never! You are a disgrace to caninesociety."
"The fact is," said the other, looking somewhat ashamed "my master is adyer, and he does me up like this just by way of advertising, you know."
"Your master a dyer," cried Pepper, "then you, too, shall die. Can youfight? I'm full of it. Come, we must have it out."
"Come back, Pepper, come back, sir!" cried his mistress. But for oncePepper disobeyed; he flew at that funny dog, and in a few minutes theair was filled with the blue and magenta fluff, that the Skye tore outof his antagonist. The combat ended in a complete victory for Pepper.He routed his assailant, and finally chased him off the esplanade.
Pepper's life at the seaside was a very happy one, or would have beenexcept for the dyed dog, that he made a point of giving instant chaseto, whenever he saw him.
Pepper next turned up in Wales. Sir B. N--had taken a lovely oldmansion between C--n and Ll--o, far removed from any other houses, andquite amongst the hills, and after seeing his wife and sister settled inthe new abode, he went off to Scotland. A week after his departure, thetwo ladies got up a small picnic to Dolbadran Castle, whose ruins standupon a steep rock overhanging the lake. Pepper of course accompaniedthe tourists, and the whole party returned at night rather fatigued.Mrs C--went to bed, and soon fell into a sound sleep, from which shewas aroused by Pepper; he was barking at the bedside. She got up, gavehim some water, and returned to bed, but Pepper continued to bark andrun about the room in a very strange way; he seized the bedclothes, andpulled at them violently. So she put him outside the door in a longpassage, which was closed at the other end by a thick green-baizecovered door.
Poor Mrs C--was fated to have no rest. Pepper barked louder than ever,he tore at the door, and scratched as if he wished to pull it down; sohis mistress again left her couch, and taking up a small riding-whip,proceeded to administer what she thought to be well-merited correction.
Pepper did not appear to care for the whip at all; he only barked thelouder, and jumped up wilder; he even caught Mrs C--'s nightdress inhis mouth, and attempted to drag her on towards the end of the passage.
You must be going mad, she thought. I'll put you out of the house, foryou will alarm the whole establishment; and thus thinking, she returned,followed by Pepper, who continued to clutch at her garments, into herroom, put on her dressing-gown, and proceeded to carry her intentioninto effect.
Directly she opened the door at the end of the passage, she saw a brightlight streaming from a sort of ante-room at the top of the staircase, onthe opposite side of the corridor, and at the same moment becamesensible of a strange smell of burning wood.
She flew across, and was nearly blinded by the smoke that burst forthimmediately the ante-room door was opened. The whole house was on fire,and it was with considerable difficulty that Mrs C--, Lady N--, and thedomestics, escaped from the burning mass.
Had Mrs C--been five minutes later before discovering the flames allmust have perished; for there was a great quantity of wood-work in thehouse, and it burnt rapidly.
It matters little how the fire in this case originated, the fact remainsthat this Skye-terrier, Pepper, was the first to discover it, and hiswonderful sagacity and determination, combined to save his friends froma fearful death.
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"Ida," said Frank, refilling his pipe, "you are beginning to wink."
"It is time you were in bed, Ida," said my wife.
"Oh! but I do want to hear you read what you wrote yesterday about thepoor blind fiddler's dog," cried Ida.
"Well, then," I said, "we will bring the little dog on the boards, andmake him speak a piece himself, and this will be positively the laststory or anecdote to-night."
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THE BLIND FIDDLER'S DOG.
The blind man's dog commences in doggerel verse:--
"It really is amusing to hear how some dogs brag, And walk about and swagger, with tails and ea
rs a-wag,-- How they boast about their prizes and the shows they have been at, And their coats so crisp and curly, or bodies sleek and fat, Crying, There's no mistake about it, for judges all agree, We're the champion dogs of England, by points and pedigree."
Heigho! I wonder what I am, then. Let me consider, I am a poor blindfiddler's dog, to begin with; but of course that is only a trade. Iasked "Bit-o'-Fun" the other day what breed I was. Bit-o'-Fun, I shouldtell you, is a champion greyhound, and not at all an unkind dog, onlyjust a little haughty and proud, as becomes her exalted station in life.She was talking about the large number of prizes she had won for hermaster at the various shows she had been at.
"What breed do you think I am?" I asked her. Bit-o'-Fun
Aileen Aroon, A Memoir Page 36
