who was to act as retriever. She came to a point in
one of the covers, as was her custom when she seemed to find a rabbit;
but the keeper, finding that it was a hare, called her off. After
going some distance, the dog went back and pointed the hare a second
time. The keeper put her up, and then found that she had been wounded,
having had her hind leg broken. Here the fine sense of smelling was
the more remarkable, as this old dog will not look at a hare, nor
indeed can she be induced to run after one.

One of her progeny ran a wounded buck into the large pond in the Park,
swam after it, killed it in the water, and then seizing it by the
foot, swam with it to the shore.

Having now given my reader all the information I can gather on this
dog of bygone times, I will gratify him with a letter I have received
from a lady whose name is dear to Ireland, and highly placed in the
ranks of English Literature:--

"Dear Sir,

"I am much flattered by your compliment to my national erudition,
a very scanty stock in my best of times, and now nearly used up,
in 'furnishing forth' the pages of many an idle tale, worked out
in the 'Irish Interest,' as the mouse nibbled at the lion's
net,--the same presumption, if not with the same results! However,
I will rub up my old '_Shannos_,' as Elizabeth said of her Latin,
and endeavour to recollect the little I have ever known on the
subject of the Irish wolf-dog.

"Natural history is too much a matter of fact to have ever
interested the poetic temperament of the Irish; Schools of Poetry,
Heraldry, and Music, were opened (says the Irish historians),
'time immemorial.' St. Patrick found the Academies of Lismore
and Armagh in a flourishing condition, when he arrived on his
great mission; and the more modern College of Clonard (founded in
the fifth century by Bishop Finnan), had a great reputation for
its learning and learned professors. But it does not appear that
there was any Chair of Natural History or Philosophy in these
scholastic Seminaries. Their Transactions recorded the miracles of
saints rather than the miracles of nature. And had some daring
Cuvier, or enterprising Lyell or Murchison, opened those spacious
cabinets, once

'In the deep bosom of the ocean buried,'

or entombed in mountain layers for unnumbered ages, the Druid
priests would probably have immolated the d