He is the caravan dog, a noble fellow, straight in coat, and jetty-black, without one curly hair. He is the admired of all beholders.
He has gained prizes enough to entitle him to be dubbed champion according to the older rules. His real or bench name is Theodore Nero the Second. In his day his father was known all over the world.
As to pedigree, Bob’s father, grandfather, great-grandfather, and great-great-grandfather were all champions, and he is himself the father of a champion, Mr Farquharson’s, MP, celebrated Gunville.
(Vide “Aileen Aroon,” by the same author. Published by Messrs Partridge and Co, 9 Paternoster Row, EC.)
In character, Bob—NB: We call him Robert on the Sabbath Day and on bank-holidays—is most gentle and amiable. And though, like all pure Newfoundlands, he is fond of fighting, he will never touch a small dog.
Wherever Bob is seen he is admired, and neither children nor babies are ever afraid of him, while—
“His locked and lettered braw brass collar
Shows him the gentleman and scholar.”
The words of North and the Shepherd, in the “Noctes Ambrosianae,” come into my head as I write:—
“A dog barks. Shepherd. Heavens! I could hae thocht that was Bronte.