he rabbit
up; but his astonishment and odd sheepish look, when he found it was a
white one, were curious in the extreme. He dropped his stern, made his
usual snap with his jaws, and came back looking up in my face, as much
as to say, 'You've made a mistake, and shot a white rabbit, but I've
not picked him up.' I was obliged to assure him that I intended to
shoot it, and to encourage him before he would return and bring the
rabbit to me. Wolfe died when he was about nine years old, and was
succeeded by my present favourite, Brenda, a hare greyhound of the
highest caste. Brenda won the Oak stakes of her year, and is a very
fast and stout greyhound. I have taught her to retrieve game to the
gun, to drive home the game from dangerous sands, and, in short, to do
everything but speak; and this she attempts, by making a beautiful
sort of bark when she wants her dinner.

"I have the lop-eared rabbit naturalised, and in a half-wild and wild
state, and Brenda is often to be seen with some of the tamest of them
asleep in the sun on the lawn together. When the rabbits have been
going out into a dangerous vicinity, late in the evening, I have often
sent Brenda to drive them home, and to course and kill the wild ones
if she could. I have seen one of the wild-bred lop-ears get up before
her, and I have seen her make a start to course it; but when she saw
that it was not a native of the soil she would stop and continue her
search for others. The next moment I have seen her course and kill a
wild rabbit. She is perfectly steady from hare if I tell her not to
run, and is, without any exception, one of the prettiest and most
useful and engaging creatures ever seen. She is an excellent
rat-killer also, and has an amazing antipathy to a cat. When I have
been absent from home for some time, Mrs. B. has observed that she is
alive to every sound of a wheel, and if the door-bell rings she is the
first to fly to it. When walking on the sea-beach during my absence,
she is greatly interested in every boat she sees, and watches them
with the most intense anxiety, as in the yachting season she has known
me return by sea. Brenda would take my part in a row, and she is a
capital house-dog. If ever the heart of a creature was given to man,
this beautiful, graceful, and clever animal has given me hers, for her
whole existence is either passed in watching for my return, or in
seeking opportunities to please me when I am at home. It is a great
mistake to