e open air possible, and he will remain
healthy, delightful in his manners, and preternaturally intelligent. The
dog of the day is the fox-terrier, and a charming little fellow he is.
Unfortunately it happens that most smart youths who possess fox-terriers
have an exalted idea of their friends' pugilistic powers, and hence the
sweet little black, white, and tan beauty too often has life concerted
into a battle and a march. Still no one who understands the fox-terrier
can help respecting and admiring him. If I might hint a fault, it is
that the fox-terrier lacks balance of character. The ejaculation
"Cats!" causes him to behave in a way which is devoid of well-bred
repose, and his conduct when in presence of rabbits is enough to make a
meditative lurcher or retriever grieve. When a lurcher sees a rabbit in
the daytime, he leers at him from his villainous oblique eye, and seems
to say, "Shan't follow you just now--may have the pleasure of looking
you up this evening." But the fox-terrier converts himself into a kind
of hurricane in fur, and he gives tongue like a stump-orator in full
cry. I may say that, when once the fox-terrier becomes a drawing-room
pet, he loses all character--he might just as well be a pug at once. The
Bedlington is perhaps the best of all terriers, but his disreputable
aspect renders him rather out of place in a refined room. It is only
when his deep sagacious eyes are seen that he looks attractive. He can
run, swim, dive, catch rabbits, retrieve, or do anything. I grieve to
say that he is a dog of an intriguing disposition; and no prudent lady
would introduce him among dogs who have not learned mischief. The
Bedlington seems to have the power of command, and he takes a fiendish
delight in ordering young dogs to play pranks. He will whisper to a
young collie, and in an instant you will see that collie chasing sheep
or hens, or hunting among flower-beds, or baiting a cow, or something
equally outrageous. Decidedly the Bedlington does not shine as a pet;
and he should be kept only where there are plenty of things to be
murdered daily--then he lives with placid joy, varied by sublime
Berserker rage.

As to feathered pets, who has not suffered from parrots? You buy a grey
one at the docks, and pay four pounds for him on account of his manifold
accomplishments. When he is taken home and presented to a prim lady, he
of course gives her samples of the language used by the sailors on the
voyage home; and, e