ay he and Smoaker were left alone in a room with a table on which
luncheon was laid. Smoaker might have been left for hours with meat on
the table, and he would have died rather than have touched it; but at
that time Shark was not proof against temptation. I left the room to
hand some lady to her carriage, and as I returned by the window, I
looked in. Shark was on his legs, smelling curiously round the table;
whilst Smoaker had risen to a sitting posture, his ears pricked, his
brow frowning, and his eyes intently fixed on his son's actions. After
tasting several viands, Shark's long nose came in contact with about
half a cold tongue; the morsel was too tempting to be withstood. For
all the look of curious anger with which his father was intently
watching, the son stole the tongue and conveyed it to the floor. No
sooner had he done so, than the offended sire rushed upon him, rolled
him over, beat him, and took away the tongue. Instead, though, of
replacing it on the table, the father contented himself with the
punishment he had administered, and retired with great gravity to the
fire.

"I was once waiting by moonlight for wild ducks on the Ouze in
Bedfordshire, and I killed a couple on the water at a shot. The
current was strong; but Shark, having fetched one of the birds, was
well aware there was another. Instead, therefore, of returning by
water to look for the second, he ran along the banks, as if aware that
the strong stream would have carried the bird further down; looking in
the water till he saw it, at least a hundred yards from the spot where
he had left it in bringing the first; when he also brought that to me.
Nothing could induce either of these dogs to fetch a glove or a stick:
I have often seen game fall close to me, and they would not attempt to
touch it. It seemed as if they simply desired to be of service when
service was to be done; and that when there were no obstacles to be
conquered, they had no wish to interfere. Shark died at a good old
age, and was succeeded by his son Wolfe. Wolfe's mother was a
Newfoundland bitch. He was also a large and powerful dog, but of
course not so speedy as his ancestors. While residing at my country
house, being my constant companion, Wolfe accompanied me two or three
times a-day in the breeding season to feed the young pheasants and
partridges reared under hens. On going near the coops, I put down my
gun, made Wolfe a sign to sit down by it, and fed the birds, with
som