For two winters Punch made an almost royal progress to Florida—his mistress, so named, in his train; and was the recipient of most delicate attentions on board the steamer from officers and crew, not to speak of mere passengers. He was allowed free access to the captain’s private room. I am not sure, indeed, but he came to regard it as his own state apartment, and its crimson plush sofa as his appropriate seat. Certain it is, that he would often growl, and dispute mildly, its possession with the captain.
In the main, however, he was a dog of great politeness. It is on record that when a lady-passenger kept giving him sugared almonds, he was too well-bred to express his dislike of them, or pain the giver by a refusal. So he noiselessly carried almond after almond under the sofa, until quite a pile was accumulated; the young lady, meanwhile, supposing he had eaten them. This was done so adroitly, and with such evidently polite motive, that the by-standers were much amused.
Punch was very catholic in his tastes; not only the captain’s plush sofa found favor in his sight, but also the leather cushion in the pilot-house, where he spent much of his time, apparently over-seeing the man at the wheel. It was his habit in pleasant weather to take long constitutionals around the deck-house, keeping close to its side, through fear of the sea. Rough weather was sure to send him into retirement under a sofa in the saloon, whence occasionally he would creep out to inspect the sea—retiring again with a growl of disgust if the waves were high.
He was greatly admired in Savannah and Jacksonville, especially by the darkies, who often asked Miss Stowe if she would not give them “her pup.” One candid person of color remarked: “Lady, I like your pup; he looks like he could fight!” But this very popularity brought disaster in its train. Like the famous thief whose admiration for diamonds led him always, when possible, to remove them from their ignorant owners into his own enlightened possession—so somebody—unknown—admired Punch to the degree that he appropriated him. After two triumphant years with Mrs. Stowe, in September, 1883, he was stolen; and although advertised, although rewards were offered, nothing was heard from him until 1885. In March of this year, he was recognized at a dog-show in New Haven, and claimed, to the equal delight of himself and his friends. He had forgotten neither mistress nor home, and his joy in getting back was unmistakable.
MRS. STOWE’S DOG PUNCH.
In the meantime, his place had been taken, although not filled, by Missy, a gift from the same gentleman who had previously sent Punch. Unlike Punch, however, she was a foreigner, having been imported from England. Miss Stowe says: “It is a disputed point as to which is the finer dog—I myself think it six of the one to half a dozen of the other.”
To Punch’s other claims to distinction, may be added that seal of public approval—a prize at a dog-show. Both dogs have collars, bells, and harness in abundance. They wear them when out walking, and thus—merrily tinkling across the stage—exit Missy, exit Punch to find behind the scenes, the warm, safe shelter of home!
It was probably a strong sense of contrast that led Miss Elizabeth Stuart Phelps to call her pet terrier Daniel Deronda! He was, however, so thoroughly lovable and whole-hearted, that on this account, if no other, he deserved the name. Was, I say—for alas! he has been gathered to the dust now many months, and only the memory remains of his doggish prettiness and affectionate heart. Like Punch, he came from a dog-store in Boston; but unlike him, was of mingled blood, being blue Skye and King Charles. One of his merits was that excellent thing—in dogs as in women—a low, soft voice; and on this gentle “barkter,” as suited to a lady’s establishment, the fancier laid particular stress.