motions of his hand and arm, direct his dog to distant points in the valley below. If you could see it, you would be satisfied it was not by harsh means that he obtained such willing, cheerful obedience. His signals to the right, left, and inwards, are very similar to those just described. He, however, instructs his dog to go further ahead, by using his hand and arm as in the action of throwing, but keeping an open palm towards the animal (the arm raised high): a signal undeniably more visible at a distance than the one named in iv. of 141, though not generally so well suited to the sportsman.
144. You will also observe, that when the voice is employed (and this should be done only when the dog will not obey your signals), I have recommended you to make use of but one word. Why should you say, “Come to heel,” “Ware breaking fence,” “Have a care?” If you speak in sentences, you may at times unconsciously vary the words of the sentence, or the emphasis on any word; and as it is only by the sound that you should expect a dog to be guided, the more defined and distinct in sound the several commands are, the better.
NAMES DISSIMILAR IN SOUND.
145. This consideration leads to the remark that, as, by nearly universal consent, “Toho” is the word employed to tell a dog to point, the old rule is clearly a judicious one, never to call him “Ponto,” “Sancho,” or by any name ending in “o.” Always, too, choose one that can be hallooed in a sharp, loud, high key. You will find the advantage of this whenever you lose your dog, and happen not to have a whistle. Observe, also, if you have several dogs, to let their names be dissimilar in sound.
DEAF TO THE VOICE OF PERSUASION.—Par. 148.
“DROP” BETTER THAN “DOWN.”
146. I have suggested your employing the word “Drop,” instead of the usual word “Down,” because it is less likely to be uttered by any one on whom the dog might jump or fawn; for, on principle, I strongly object to any order being given which is not strictly enforced. It begets in a dog, as much as in the nobler animal who walks on two legs, habits of inattention to words of command, and ultimately makes greater severity necessary. If I felt certain I should never wish to part with a dog I was instructing, I should carry this principle so far as to frame a novel vocabulary, and never use any word I thought he would be likely to hear from others. By-the-bye, whenever you purchase a dog, it would be advisable to ascertain what words of command, and what signals he has been accustomed to.
A SOLICITOR.
147. The fair sex, though possessing unbounded and most proper influence over us, notoriously have but little control over their canine favourites. This, however, solely arises from their seldom enforcing obedience to the orders which they give them.
148. If a lady takes a dog out for a walk, she keeps constantly calling to it, lest it should go astray and be lost. The result is, that ere long, the dog pays not the slightest attention to her, his own sagacity telling him that he need not trouble himself to watch her, as she will be sure to look after him. But she can plead a charming authority for her weakness,—Charles Lamb—who felt obliged to follow wherever “Dash” chose to lead; for “Dash” soon found out that he might take what liberties he pleased with “Elia.”
A SOLICITOR.
149. There is also a varying in the manner, tone of voice, and words of command, which generally prevents the success of ladies in teaching a four-footed pet any tricks beyond the art of begging. This feat they accomplish because they cannot well deviate from the beaten path. They naturally hold the animal in a proper position while they say, “Beg; beg, sir, beg;” and do not give him the reward until he has obeyed orders more or less satisfactorily.
PARASOL EXCHANGED FOR BUN.
150. Honesty compels us to give them credit for more temper and patience than fall to the lot of the sterner sex; and if they would but pursue one steady, uniform, consistent plan, they might (sitting in a begging attitude not being naturally an agreeable position for a dog) quite as easily teach him to dance,—hold a pipe in his mouth,—stand up in a corner,—give the right or left paw,—shut the door,—pull the bell rope,—leap over a parasol,—or drag forth his napkin, and spread it as a table-cloth at dinner-time,[23] &c.; and, by following the method elsewhere explained (96, 107, 109,) seldom lose anything in their walks, as their faithful companion would almost invariably be on the alert to pick up and carry to them whatever they might drop. It is in this manner that dogs are sometimes made very useful assistants at cricket. A golf-ball maker at St. Andrew’s, A——n R——n, employs his dog yet more usefully—at least more profitably. He has taught the animal to search the links by himself for balls, and to take home all he finds. Until the introduction of the universally applied gutta percha, the price of golf-balls was two shillings each. It may, therefore, be easily imagined that the diligent little fellow paid liberally for his board and lodging. But the trick of carrying has been made as serviceable to the dog as to his master.
151. A cousin of one of my brother officers, Colonel A——n, was taking a walk in the year ’49, at Tonbridge Wells, when a strange Newfoundland made a snatch at the parasol she held loosely in her hand, and quietly carried it off. His jaunty air and wagging tail plainly told, as he marched along, that he was much pleased at his feat. The lady civilly requested him to restore it. This he declined, but in so gracious a manner, that she essayed, though ineffectually, to drag it from him. She therefore laughingly, albeit unwillingly, was constrained to follow her property rather than abandon it altogether. The dog kept ahead, constantly looking round to see if she followed, and was evidently greatly pleased at perceiving that she continued to favour him with her company. At length, he stepped into a confectioner’s, where the lady renewed her attempts to obtain possession of her property; but as the Newfoundland would not resign it, she applied to the shopman for assistance, who said that it was an old trick of the dog’s to get a bun; that if she would give him one, he would immediately return the stolen goods. She cheerfully did so, and the dog as willingly made the exchange.
152. I’ll be bound the intelligent animal was no mean observer of countenances, and that he had satisfied himself, by a previous scrutiny, as to the probability of his delinquencies being forgiven.
TRICKS ABLY PERFORMED.
153. “Carrying” is a pretty—occasionally, as we see, a useful—trick, but it does not further any sporting object. “Carrying” and “fetching” are essentially different. The object chiefly sought in the latter is to make the dog deliver expeditiously (107),—in the former, to make him carry perseveringly for miles and miles. To inculcate carrying, always make him suppose that you greatly regard what is confided to his charge. Many a good carrier is spoiled by children picking up any stick and giving it to him. He has the sense to know that it is valueless, and when he is tired of the fun, he drops it unrebuked, and, after a time, is supplied with another. If you practise a pup in carrying a stick, show more discretion than to let it be so long that it must jar against his teeth by trailing on the ground, or hitting the walls.
154. Being on the subject of tricks, as several ladies have done me the unexpected but highly appreciated honour of reading what I have said respecting their four-footed attendants, I think it as well to observe, should they be tempted to teach a favourite any accomplishments, that these should be practised occasionally, or they may be forgotten, (all the sooner, like more serious studies, the more easily they were acquired;) and that the exhibition of them might be made much more effective and striking by a little exercise, on the