the little terriers, and on digging, they were found dead, locked in
each other's jaws; they had met, and it being dark, and there being no
time for explanations, they had throttled each other. John was made of
the same sort of stuff, and was as combative and victorious as his great
namesake, and not unlike him in some of his not so creditable qualities.
He must, I think, have been related to a certain dog to whom "life was
full o' sairiousness," but in John's case the same cause produced an
opposite effect. John was gay and light-hearted, even when there was not
"enuff of fechtin," which, however, seldom happened, there being a
market every week in Melrose, and John appearing most punctually at the
cross to challenge all comers, and being short legged, he inveigled
every dog into an engagement by first attacking him, and then falling
down on his back, in which posture he latterly fought and won all his
battles.

What can I say of PUCK[6]--the thoroughbred--the simple-hearted--the
purloiner of eggs warm from the hen--the flutterer of all manner of
Volscians--the bandy-legged, dear, old, dilapidated buffer? I got him
from my brother, and only parted with him because William's stock was
gone. He had to the end of life a simplicity which was quite touching.
One summer day--a dog-day--when all dogs found straying were hauled away
to the police-office, and killed off in twenties with strychnine, I met
Puck trotting along Princes Street with a policeman, a rope round his
neck, he looking up in the fatal, official, but kindly countenance in
the most artless and cheerful manner, wagging his tail and trotting
along. In ten minutes he would have been in the next world; for I am one
of those who believe dogs _have_ a next world, and why not? Puck ended
his days as the best dog in Roxburghshire. _Placide quiescas!_

[6] In _The Dog_, by Stonehenge, an excellent book, there is a
woodcut of Puck, and "Dr. Wm. Brown's celebrated dog John
Pym" is mentioned. Their pedigrees are given--here is
Puck's, which shows his "strain" is of the pure azure
blood--"Got by John Pym, out of Tib; bred by Purves of
Leaderfoot; sire, Old Dandie, the famous dog of old John
Stoddart of Selkirk--dam, Whin." How Homeric all this
sounds! I cannot help quoting what follows--"Sometimes a
Dandie pup of a good strain may appear not to be game at an
early age; but he should not be parted