The gentleman resumed his seat, when the dog came to him, showed the
greatest pleasure at being noticed, and allowed himself to be fondled.
His owner could not disguise his astonishment. "You are the only
person," he said, "whom that dog would ever allow to touch him without
showing resentment. May I beg of you the favour to tell me your
name?"--mentioning his own at the same time. The stranger announced
it, (he was the last of his race, one of the most ancient and noble in
Ireland, and descended from one of its kings.) "I do not wonder," said
the owner of the dog, "at the homage this animal has paid to you. He
recognizes in you the descendant of one of our most ancient race of
gentlemen to whom this breed of dogs almost exclusively belonged, and
the peculiar instinct he possesses has now been shown in a manner
which cannot be mistaken by me, who am so well acquainted with the
ferocity this dog has hitherto shown to all strangers."

Few persons, Sir Walter Scott excepted, would perhaps be inclined to
give credit to this anecdote. So convinced was he of the extraordinary
instinct exhibited by dogs generally, that he has been heard to
declare that he would believe anything of a dog. The anecdote,
however, above related, was communicated to me with the strongest
assurance of its strict accuracy.

In a poem, written by Mrs. Catherine Philips, about the year 1660, the
character of the Irish wolf-hound is well portrayed, and proves the
estimation in which he was held at that period.

"Behold this creature's form and state!
Him Nature surely did create,
That to the world might be exprest
What mien there can be in a beast;
More nobleness of form and mind
Than in the lion we can find:
Yea, this heroic beast doth seem
In majesty to rival him.

Yet he vouchsafes to man to show
His service, and submission too--
And here we a distinction have;
That brute is fierce--the dog is brave.

He hath himself so well subdued,
That hunger cannot make him rude;
And all his manners do confess
That courage dwells with gentleness.

War with the wolf he loves to wage,
And never quits if he engage;
But praise him much, and you may chance
To put him out of countenance.
And having done a deed so brave,
He looks not sullen, yet looks grave.

No fondling play-fellow is he;
His master's guard he w