THE SETTER.
The old English setter (says Capt. Brown), was originally derived from a cross between the Spanish pointer and the large water-spaniel, and was justly celebrated for his fine scent. It is difficult now to say what a setter really is, as the original breed has been crossed with springers, stag and blood-hounds. The Irish breed of setters is considered better than either the English or Scotch, and a fine brace has been frequently known to fetch fifty guineas. Youatt says that the setter is evidently the large spaniel improved in size and beauty, and taught to mark his game by setting or crouching. He is more active than the pointer, but has not so much patient steadiness. It is extremely difficult to decide between the merits of the setter and pointer as dogs for shooting over. Some authors prefer one, some the other. "Craven" says, that in his opinion Russian setters are better than English, in nose, sagacity, and every other qualification that a dog ought to possess.
Col. Hutchinson relates that he was "partridge-shooting the season before last with an intimate friend. The air was soft, and there was a good breeze. We came upon a large turnip-field, deeply trenched on account of its damp situation. A white setter, that habitually carried a lofty head, drew for awhile, and then came to a point. We got up to her. She led us across some ridges, when her companion, a jealous dog (a pointer), which had at first backed correctly, most improperly pushed on in front, but, not being able to acknowledge the scent, went off, clearly imagining the bitch was in error. She, however, held on, and in beautiful style brought us up direct to a covey. My friend and I agreed that she must have been but little, if at all, less than one hundred yards off when she first winded the birds; and it was clear to us that they could not have been running, for the breeze came directly across the furrows, and she had led us in the wind's eye. We thought the point the more remarkable, as it is generally supposed that the strong smell of turnips diminishes a dog's power of scenting birds."
The same able author says, that on one occasion when a near relation of his was shooting on the banks of the Forth, he killed a partridge that was flying across the river. As he had no retriever with him, he almost regretted having fired; but, to his surprise, his setter, Dove, jumped into the river, although she had never previously (to the writer's knowledge), attempted to swim, seized it, and deposited it safely on the bank. She never had retrieved before, and was not particularly good at "seeking dead."
"During my residence in the country," says M. Huet, "I had a gamekeeper who was very skilful in the art of training dogs. Among others of various kinds which he trained was a large old English setter, with which he had succeeded so well that he could use him both for hunting and shooting.
"This dog did always as much as could be done by any of his race, in whatever kind of sport he was employed; he even invented advantageous manœuvres himself, which the gamekeeper affirmed he had never taught him.
"Once, after I had been already several hours returned from hunting with my people, the dog came running across the yard with a hare upon his back, which he held by the ear, so as to carry her in the most convenient manner to the kitchen from the considerable distance where he must have killed her.
"Upon another occasion he showed an extraordinary degree of judgment and fidelity. The gamekeeper had, on one of the short days of December, shot at and wounded a deer. Hoping to run him down before night, he instantly put the dog upon the track, which followed it at full speed, and soon was out of sight. At length it grew dark, and the gamekeeper returned home, thinking he should find the setter arrived there before him; but he was disappointed, and became apprehensive that his dog might have lost himself, or fallen a prey to some ravenous animal. The next morning, however, we were all greatly rejoiced to see him come running into the yard, whence he directly hastened to the door of my apartment, and, on being admitted, ran, with gestures expressive of solicitude and eagerness, to a corner of the room where guns were placed. We understood the hint, and, taking the guns, followed him. He led us not by the road which he himself had taken out of the wood, but by beaten paths half round it, and then by several wood-cutters' tracks in different directions, to a thicket, where, following him a few paces, we found the deer which he had killed. The dog seems to have rightly judged that we should have been obliged to make our way with much difficulty through almost the whole length of the wood, in order to come to the deer in a straight direction, and he therefore led us a circuitous but open and convenient road. Between the legs of the deer, which he had guarded during the night against the beasts of prey that might otherwise have seized upon it, he had scratched a hole in the snow, and filled it with dry leaves for his bed. The extraordinary sagacity which he had displayed upon this occasion rendered him doubly valuable to us, and it therefore caused us very serious regret when, in the ensuing summer, the poor animal went mad, possibly in consequence of his exposure to the severe frost of that night, and it became necessary for the gamekeeper to shoot him, which he could not do without shedding tears. He said he would willingly have given his best cow to save him; and I confess myself that I would not have hesitated to part with my best horse upon the same terms."