a large acquaintance
amongst the dogs at Clifton. She always carried a pocketful of biscuit
to feed them; and she had a canine friend who for years was in the daily
habit of waiting at her door to accompany her morning walk, after which
he received his little portion of biscuit, and returned to his home.
Timid as Mrs Schimmelpenninck was by nature and by habit, she had no
idea of personal fear of animals, and especially of dogs. I have seen
her go up without hesitation to some splendid specimen of the race, of
which everybody else was afraid, to stroke him, or offer food; when the
noble creature, with that fine perception often so remarkably manifested
by dogs and children, would look up in her face, and then return her
caress, and crouch down at her feet in love and confidence. Her own two
beautiful little spaniels were her constant companions in her walks;
their happy gambols were always a source of pleasure."[94]

* * * * *

Sir Walter Scott loved dogs dearly. In his novels and poetical works his
knowledge of them and his regard often appear. He loved them, from the
stately deerhound to the wiry terrier. He was quite up to the ways of
their education. Dandie Dinmont, in "Guy Mannering," speaking of his
terriers, says, "I had them a' regularly entered, first wi' rottens,
then wi' stots and weasels, and then wi' the tods and brocks, and now
they fear naething that ever comes wi' a hairy skin on't." Then, again,
read Washington Irving's description of his visit to Abbotsford, and
how, on Scott taking him out for a walk, a host of his dogs attended,
evidently as a matter of course. He often spoke to them during the walk.
The American author was struck with the stately gravity of the noble
staghound Maida, while the younger dogs gambolled about him, and tried
to get him to gambol. Maida would occasionally turn round suddenly, and
give one of the playful creatures a tumble, and look at Scott and
Irving, as much as to say, "You see, gentlemen, I cannot help giving way
to this nonsense;" when on he would go as grave as ever. "I make no
doubt," said Scott to his companion, "when Maida is alone with these
young dogs, he throws gravity aside, and plays the boy as much as any of
them; but he is ashamed to do so in our company, and seems to say, "Ha'
done with your nonsense, youngsters; what will the laird and that other
gentleman think of me if I give way to such foolery?" A little volume
might a