ful
animal, which at night always 'sentinelled his master's bed,' not
making his appearance in the chase, Llewelyn returned home very angry,
and met the dog, covered with blood, at the door of the chamber of
his child. Upon entering it, he found the bed overturned, and the
coverlet stained with gore. He called to his boy; but receiving no
answer, he rashly concluded that he had been killed by Gelert, and in
his anguish instantly thrust his sword through the poor animal's body.
The Hon. Robert Spencer has beautifully told the remainder of the
story.

'His suppliant looks, as prone he fell,
No pity could impart;
But still his Gelert's dying yell
Passed heavy on his heart.

Arous'd by Gelert's dying yell,
Some slumb'rer waken'd nigh:
What words the parent's joy could tell,
To hear his infant's cry?

Nor scathe had he, nor harm, nor dread:
But the same couch beneath,
Lay a gaunt wolf all torn and dead,
Tremendous still in death.

Ah! what was then Llewelyn's pain?
For now the truth was clear:--
His gallant hound the wolf had slain,
To save Llewelyn's heir.'[F]

In order to mitigate his offence, Llewelyn built this chapel, and
raised a tomb to poor Gelert; and the spot to this day is called
_Beth-Gelert_, or the Grave of Gelert."

I should not omit to mention, that in Mr. Windle's account of Cork,
Kerry, &c., there is the following notice of the wolf and Irish
wolf-dog.

"The last wolf seen in Ireland was killed in the neighbourhood of
Annascuit, near Dingle, in 1710. The place is still known by the name
of the Wolf's Step. The Irish called the wolf-dog _Sagh cliun_; and
old Campion, speaking of the Irish, says, They are not without wolves,
and greyhounds to hunt them bigger of bone and limne than a colt."

This noble animal is also described as "similar in shape to a
greyhound, larger than a mastiff, and tractable as a spaniel."

The following fact will serve to prove that the deer-hound is
possessed of a fine sense of smelling, a circumstance which has been
doubted by many persons.

The head keeper of Richmond Park is possessed of a famous old
deer-hound bitch, remarkable for her sagacity, and for having taken
five bucks in one day. After a battue in the Park in the winter of
1845, he directed one of the under-keepers to examine the ground
carefully, which had been shot over the day before. He was accompanied
by the old dog,