door until the girl opened it, and then stood by
the tray of scraps looking at her and wagging her tail. Wanting one of
my little sons one evening, I said, "Di, go find the boys!" She rushed
off, looking and smelling about their usual haunts, but returned
unsuccessful. I scolded and sent her a second and third time, with the
same result: a few minutes after she came quietly behind me with the
_hat_ of my youngest boy in her mouth: she had taken it from a table
in the passage, and her wagging tail said plainly, "Will this answer?
It's the best I can do." The same dog will creep carefully upon
partridges, and stand as if cut in marble lest they should fly, but
will chase turkeys at full speed, giving tongue like a hound, and then
lie still for hours while they are called up and shot, nor will she
ever confound the different habits of the two birds or the different
methods of hunting them.

Such are the highly-bred and intelligent animals which are eagerly
waiting for us to-day--Di, with her white coat, soft as wavy silk, her
chestnut ears and one spot on the back alone marring its snowy purity;
Sancho, jet black, with "featherings" like a King Charles spaniel.
They are over the fence already, and tearing about the field so
recklessly in the exuberance of their joy that they must certainly
startle any game which may be there. The timid little field-buntings
glide away on silent wing through the grass; the meadow-larks rise
with gentle flappings and sail off with that easy flight so tempting
to very young wing-shots; now and then a flock of doves whistle off
too far for a certain shot, and clouds of crow-blackbirds rise with
hoarse chirps and seek less public feeding-grounds; a rabbit dashes
off from a brier-patch and both dogs rush pell-mell at his heels, but
a single note from the whistle brings them to a sudden halt and makes
them look thoroughly ashamed of themselves. Off they go again, as
wild as deer; but suddenly Di's whole action changes: crouching to the
ground and beating her sides rapidly with her tail, she runs hither
and thither, snuffing eagerly in the grass. Now Sancho comes up and
catches the cold trail, for a covey has certainly been in that place
to-day. Most probably they rose from the spot, frightened by the swoop
of a hawk, and made for the nearest cover, for the dogs can do nothing
with the scent. But that little whiff of the exciting effluvia has
brought them down to their work, and a beautiful sight