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the poor man's dog is not offended by the notice of the rich； and
keeps all his ugly feeling for those poorer or more ragged than his
master。 And again； for every station they have an ideal of
behaviour； to which the master； under pain of derogation； will do
wisely to conform。 How often has not a cold glance of an eye
informed me that my dog was disappointed； and how much more gladly
would he not have taken a beating than to be thus wounded in the
seat of piety！
I knew one disrespectable dog。 He was far liker a cat； cared
little or nothing for men； with whom he merely coexisted as we do
with cattle； and was entirely devoted to the art of poaching。 A
house would not hold him； and to live in a town was what he
refused。
He led； I believe； a life of troubled but genuine pleasure； and
perished beyond all question in a trap。 But this was an exception；
a marked reversion to the ancestral type； like the hairy human
infant。 The true dog of the nineteenth century； to judge by the
remainder of my fairly large acquaintance； is in love with
respectability。 A street…dog was once adopted by a lady。 While
still an Arab； he had done as Arabs do； gambolling in the mud；
charging into butchers' stalls； a cat…hunter； a sturdy beggar； a
common rogue and vagabond； but with his rise into society he laid
aside these inconsistent pleasures。 He stole no more； he hunted no
more cats； and conscious of his collar； he ignored his old
companions。 Yet the canine upper class was never brought to
recognise the upstart； and from that hour； except for human
countenance； he was alone。 Friendless； shorn of his sports and the
habits of a lifetime； he still lived in a glory of happiness；
content with his acquired respectability； and with no care but to
support it solemnly。 Are we to condemn or praise this self…made
dog？ We praise his human brother。 And thus to conquer vicious
habits is as rare with dogs as with men。 With the more part； for
all their scruple…mongering and moral thought； the vices that are
born with them remain invincible throughout； and they live all
their years； glorying in their virtues； but still the slaves of
their defects。 Thus the sage Coolin was a thief to the last； among
a thousand peccadilloes； a whole goose and a whole cold leg of
mutton lay upon his conscience； but Woggs； （7） whose soul's
shipwreck in the matter of gallantry I have recounted above； has
only twice been known to steal； and has often nobly conquered the
temptation。 The eighth is his favourite commandment。 There is
something painfully human in these unequal virtues and mortal
frailties of the best。 Still more painful is the bearing of those
〃stammering professors〃 in the house of sickness and under the
terror of death。 It is beyond a doubt to me that； somehow or
other； the dog connects together； or confounds； the uneasiness of
sickness and the consciousness of guilt。 To the pains of the body
he often adds the tortures of the conscience； and at these times
his haggard protestations form； in regard to the human deathbed； a
dreadful parody or parallel。
I once supposed that I had found an inverse relation between the
double etiquette which dogs obey； and that those who were most
addicted to the showy street life among other dogs were less
careful in the practice of home virtues for the tyrant man。 But
the female dog； that mass of carneying affectations； shines equally
in either sphere； rules her rough posse of attendant swains with
unwearying tact and gusto； and with her master and mistress pushes
the arts of insinuation to their crowning point。 The attention of
man and the regard of other dogs flatter （it would thus appear） the
same sensibility； but perhaps； if we could read the canine heart；
they would be found to flatter it in very different degrees。 Dogs
live with man as courtiers round a monarch； steeped in the flattery
of his notice and enriched with sinecures。 To push their favour in
this world of pickings and caresses is； perhaps； the business of
their lives； and their joys may lie outside。 I am in despair at
our persistent ignorance。 I read in the lives of our companions
the same processes of reason； the same antique and fatal conflicts
of the right against the wrong； and of unbitted nature with too
rigid custom； I see them with our weaknesses； vain； false；
inconstant against appetite； and with our one stalk of virtue；
devoted to the dream of an ideal； and yet； as they hurry by me on
the street with tail in air； or come singly to solicit my regard； I
must own the secret purport of their lives is still inscrutable to
man。 Is man the friend； or is he the patron only？ Have they
indeed forgotten nature's voice？ or are those moments snatched from
courtiership when they touch noses with the tinker's mongrel； the
brief reward and pleasure of their artificial lives？ Doubtless；
when man shares with his dog the toils of a profession and the
pleasures of an art； as with the shepherd or the poacher； the
affection warms and strengthens till it fills the soul。 But
doubtless； also； the masters are； in many cases； the object of a
merely interested cultus； sitting aloft like Louis Quatorze； giving
and receiving flattery and favour； and the dogs； like the majority
of men； have but foregone their true existence and become the dupes
of their ambition。
CHAPTER XIII。 A PENNY PLAIN AND TWOPENCE COLOURED
THESE words will be familiar to all students of Skelt's Juvenile
Drama。 That national monument； after having changed its name to
Park's； to Webb's； to Redington's； and last of all to Pollock's；
has now become； for the most part； a memory。 Some of its pillars；
like Stonehenge； are still afoot； the rest clean vanished。 It may
be the Museum numbers a full set； and Mr。 Ionides perhaps； or else
her gracious Majesty； may boast their great collections； but to the
plain private person they are become； like Raphaels； unattainable。
I have； at different times； possessed ALADDIN； THE RED ROVER； THE
BLIND BOY； THE OLD OAK CHEST； THE WOOD DAEMON； JACK SHEPPARD； THE
MILLER AND HIS MEN； DER FREISCHUTZ； THE SMUGGLER； THE FOREST OF
BONDY； ROBIN HOOD； THE WATERMAN； RICHARD I。； MY POLL AND MY PARTNER
JOE； THE INCHCAPE BELL （imperfect）； and THREE…FINGERED JACK； THE
TERROR OF JAMAICA； and I have assisted others in the illumination
of MAID OF THE INN and THE BATTLE OF WATERLOO。 In this roll…call
of stirring names you read the evidences of a happy childhood； and
though not half of them are still to be procured of any living
stationer； in the mind of their once happy owner all survive；
kaleidoscopes of changing pictures； echoes of the past。
There stands； I fancy； to this day （but now how fallen！） a certain
stationer's shop at a corner of the wide thoroughfare that joins
the city of my childhood with the sea。 When； upon any Saturday；