trength was exhausted. He
stretched out his tongue to lick the hand that was now fondling him
with all the agony of regret for the wound its rashness had inflicted,
and casting a look of kindness on his master, closed his eyes for
ever.[B]

I am indebted to a well-known sportsman for the following interesting
account of some of his dogs. It affords another proof how much
kindness will do in bringing out the instinctive faculties of these
animals; and that, when properly educated, their sense, courage, and
attachment are most extraordinary.

"Smoaker was a deer greyhound of the largest size, but of his pedigree
I know nothing. In speed he was equal to any hare greyhound; at the
same time, in spirit he was indomitable. He was the only dog I ever
knew who was a match for a red stag, single-handed. From living
constantly in the drawing-room, and never being separated from me, he
became acquainted with almost the meaning of every word--certainly of
every sign. His retrieving of game was equal to any of the retrieving
I ever saw in any other dogs. He would leap over any of the most
dangerous spikes at a sign, walk up and come down any ladder, and
catch, without hurting it, any particular fowl out of a number that
was pointed out to him. If he missed me from the drawing-room, and had
doubts about my being in the house, he would go into the hall and look
for my hat: if he found it, he would return contented; but if he did
not find it, he would proceed up-stairs to a window at the very top of
the house, and look from the window each way, to ascertain if I were
in sight. One day in shooting at Cranford, with his late Royal
Highness the Duke of York, a pheasant fell on the other side of the
stream. The river was frozen over; but in crossing to fetch the
pheasant the ice broke, and let Smoaker in, to some inconvenience. He
picked up the pheasant, and instead of trying the ice again, he took
it many hundred yards round to the bridge. Smoaker died at the great
age of eighteen years. His son Shark was also a beautiful dog. He was
by Smoaker out of a common greyhound bitch, called Vagrant, who had
won a cup at Swaffham. Shark was not so powerful as Smoaker; but he
was, nevertheless, a large-sized dog, and was a first-rate deer
greyhound and retriever. He took his father's place on the rug, and
was inseparable from me. He was educated and entered at deer under
Smoaker. When Shark was first admitted to the house, it chanced that
one d