Upon a bonnie day in June,
When wearing thro’ the afternoon,
Twa dogs that were na thrang at hame
Forgather’d ance upon a time.
During our stay in the Staffordshire Potteries we enlisted three recruits. One of these had been a dealer in all kinds of dogs, and, according to his own admission, sometimes a stealer of canine property; but dog-stealing was at that time not considered a felony, nor indeed was it a punishable offence at all, so far as I remember. At the time he enlisted he had in his possession a very small black-and-tan terrier, of not more than two or three pounds weight. This little animal he called Prim, and was very particular to stipulate, before he enlisted, that Prim should accompany him to barracks. “Perhaps,” he said, “the colonel of the regiment, or some of the officers, might take a fancy to it and give me a deal of money for it, especially when they hear its history.” This was said in the stable-yard of the Stork Hotel, Dudley, one morning after a party of us had returned from night patrol, the rioters being at that time very troublesome, prowling about the country at all hours, frightening the inhabitants out of their wits.
We were very anxious to hear the history of Prim, the little terrier, and after cleaning our kit and horses, the recruit (a very intelligent fellow for his class, about eighteen years of age) related the following story, while sitting on a truss of hay with Prim on his knee:—
“This here little dog once belonged to a gemman who lived at Hands worth, just outside of Brummagem. This gemman was so well known among the dog-fanciers at Brummagem, that none on ’em would ever steal any of his dogs, and he had lots on ’em, but this was the best of the whole bilin’. Well, not far from where the gemman lived there was a sort of farmer, wot sold milk and kept cows. This farmer had a big, savage bulldog, wot he had bought from a butcher in Brummagem; the dog’s name was Turk. The gemman who owned Prim had his house and garden fenced off from the road with boarding about seven feet high, and in this boarding, near the bottom, was a hole just large enough for the fowls to come through on to the road, whenever they was inclined for to do. Well, Prim was in and out through this here hole quite as often as the fowls. It was just the thing for him; he used for to rush out and snap at any big dog that might be passing, and when the big dogs turned round upon him, the impudent little joker would dart through the hole, and further insult the others by barking at them, knowing very well that they could not follow him; so the big dogs used to trot off, vowing all sorts of vengeance, if ever they got him within reach of their jaws.
“Turk was a very savage dog, but was always upon very good terms with Prim; ’cos why? Prim used for to bring meat and bones from his master’s kitchen every day and give them to Turk through the hole. The two dogs were often seen at play together in the road, for Turk was too big to get through to Prim in the garden. But Turk was always very cross, and whenever he thought Prim was going too far with his marlocks, he would give the little dog a nip and a shake to keep him civil; but Prim never bore no malice, and never forgot to bring Turk a good meal whenever he found the cook off her guard in the kitchen.
“This state o’ things, however, was too bright to last. The older Turk got, the more crusty and ill-tempered he became. He actually growled and snapped at Prim one day because the little un brought him a piece of beef with too much bone. Still Prim’s friendship was as true as ever. One day last summer, Turk set off as usual to visit his friend, who was generally somewhere handy about the garden. When Turk arrived at the hole in the fence, he put his head down to the opening, and not seeing Prim, he barked several times to let the little un know that he was waiting on him coming with the dinner; but Prim was too busy looking out for a chance to pick up something nice, so he took no notice of Turk’s angry yelp. At last Turk thought he would lie down in the warm sun just by the hole. He became sleepy, and lazily opened and shut first one eye and then the other; then he licked his paws, and brushed a fly off his nose, wondered how long Prim would be with his dinner, gradually began to doze, let his head down between his paws, and fell asleep. Turk had only slept a few minutes before Prim made his appearance at the hole, with about half a shoulder of cooked mutton. Seeing Turk asleep, he gently laid down the meat, and thought he would play a trick upon him, although the old un had often warned him not to take liberties, as his temper was not to be trusted. The little un, however, did not think of the consequences, and quickly seizing Turk’s stumpy tail between his teeth, he soon pulled the old dog out of his dreams. Turk jumped up, rolled his eyes about fiercely, while every hair on his back stood on end, and savagely turned to seize the little un. But Prim was too nimble for him; he jumped through the hole in the fence, and was safe. Peering his little impudent-looking head through the opening, he gave two or three short, sharp yelps, as if making game of Turk, who regarded him with that quiet, savage look peculiar to a bulldog, as much as to say, ‘Every dog has his day; wait till I catch you.’ But, angry though he was, he did not leave until he had finished the meal Prim had so kindly brought him.
“Turk’s savage nature now began to show itself. A bulldog, like some human creatures, never forgives an injury. His rage was terrible; his mouth foamed, his eyes grew red as blood, and his teeth grated as if they were already chewing up little Prim’s bones.
“An old bulldog is always a very sensible-looking animal, and as he stood looking at Prim through the hole in the fence, he seemed to be saying to himself as well as he was able, ‘From this day forth I am your deadly foe; revenge shall be my only thoughts by day and my dreams by night. Beware of the future; I will never rest until my teeth are buried in your throat. I hate you and the whole race of dogs, and my temper is so bad that I hate myself and every living thing.’ Turk then cantered off home. On his way he had to pass an old man breaking stones by the side of the road. Between this man and Turk there existed a deadly feud, which had arisen from Turk having once stolen the poor man’s dinner, bag and all. Up to this period Turk had crept through the hedge and trotted along the field, until fairly past the spot where the man was at work, when he would come through the hedge again and trot along until he came to his meeting-place with Prim. Now, on this particular day, Turk was determined not to go out of his way, and if the man should throw a stone at him, or in any way interfere with him, he would attack him and worry him if possible. On he trotted up the middle of the road until he reached a point where the old man caught a sight of him. Rising quickly from his seat on the stone-heap, hammer in hand, he placed himself in the middle of the road, determined to dispute Turk’s passage.
“‘Come on!’ said the old man, ‘and with this hammer,’ (flourishing it over his head) ‘I will be thy butcher,’ said he. Still Turk trotted on, apparently undismayed, until within a few yards of the stonebreaker, who lost his temper and threw the hammer with all his force at the head of Turk. The bulldog jumped aside and avoided the murderous weapon, then, with a short, sharp growl, he dashed at the old man, who turned round and stooped towards the stone-heap for one to throw at the dog. Turk instantly took advantage of the man’s position by seizing hold of his breeches, which he tore to shreds, and then, as if satisfied with the assault, he cantered up the lane and crept into his kennel to meditate upon his plan of revenge upon poor little Prim. How was he to get square with the terrier for biting his tail? Plan after plan was turned over in his mind as he lay with his head between his paws just outside the kennel, his upper lip curled up, and showing a formidable set of snow-white teeth. He hated even the flies as they dropped on his nose, and crawled around his bleary-looking eyes, bloodshot with rage. At last he thought of a plan. True, it would not be a very agreeable one for himself, but what of that? He was a thorough-bred bulldog, and nothing should stand between him and his plan of revenge.