rear would do nothing but
"back" and "down charge." What can they know of judicious quartering? Of
obeying the signals of the hand? Of gradually drawing upon the faintest
token of a scent--only perceptible to a nose carried high in the
air--until they arrive at a confident point? Of perseveringly working out
the foil of a slightly-winged bird, on a hot still day, to a sure "find?"
Nothing, or next to nothing,--nearly all is to be taught; and yet the
breaker will show off those raw recruits as perfectly drilled soldiers.
Would they not have had a much better chance of really being so, if he had
given a small portion of his time each day to each? He well knows they
would; but the theatrical display would not be half so magnificent. If he
had truly wished to give his pupils a good systematic range, without a
doubt he would have devoted one hour in the field exclusively to each dog,
rather than many hours to several at once--and not have associated any
together in the field until he had gained full command over each
separately. And this he would have done--_because it would have tended to
his interest_,--had he supposed that his dog's qualifications would be
investigated by judges--by those who would insist on seeing a dog hunted
singly--in order to observe his method of ranging,--or with but one
companion, before they thought of definitively purchasing.

259. At the beginning of a partridge season, I unexpectedly wanted to
purchase a dog. An old gamekeeper--one on whose judgment I could rely, and
who, I knew, would not willingly deceive me,--saw a setter in the field
that he thought would please, and accordingly sent it to my kennel. I
greatly liked the looks of the animal. He quartered his ground well--was
obedient to the hand--carried a high and apparently tender nose--pointed,
backed, and down-charged steadily. Unquestionably he had been well broken.
I thought myself in great luck, and should not have hesitated to complete
the purchase, but that fortunately I had an opportunity of shooting a bird
over him, when to my horror he rushed at it with the speed of a greyhound.
As, in spite of all my remonstrances, shouted in the most determined
manner, he repeated this manoeuvre whenever a bird fell, I returned him. I
afterwards heard he had just been shot over by a party on the moors, who,
no doubt, had spoilt him by their ignoble, pot-hunting propensities.

260. Had I chosen to sacrifice my shooting in order to reclaim him--