Lament, ye boys, and mourn, O Common Room,
Ye gentle ladies, weep for Bandy’s doom
If dogs ye love; for he, alas! has died,
The darling of this College and its pride;
He who with almost a House Master’s might
Guided the boys of Littlefield aright.
But yet he loved not Littlefield alone,
All things Marlburian had he made his own;
His kindly presence would encourage all
Who threw, or hit, or kicked the flying ball;
Were they but keen and vigorous in their play
His wagging tail would urge them to the fray,
While his example was a mute reproof
To all whom sloth or slackness kept aloof.
Sometimes defiant, resolute, and bold,
In straining jaws four racquet balls he’d hold;
Sometimes with sportive bark to greater speed
And wily nip he’d urge the panting steed.
So would he wander at his own sweet will
From Clump or Cricket Field to Granham Hill;
But when confined by sickness and ill luck,
He could not brook th’unworthy bonds of Duck:
The twisted noose that brought to him relief
O’erwhelmed his master with unending grief.
F. B. Malin.
[2] With Hound and Terrier in the Field, pp. 229 et seq.
[3] With Hound and Terrier in the Field, pp. 52, 53.
[4] With Hound and Terrier in the Field, by Alys F. Serrell, p. 226.
[5] With Hound and Terrier in the Field, p. 231.
[6] With Hound and Terrier in the Field, p. 193.
[7] Recollections of My past Life, by Sir Henry Holland, p. 254.
[8] With Hound and Terrier in the Field, pp. 182 et seq.
[9] While writing this book, I have been struck by the curious faith of the Gilyaks, one of the tribes to be found on that dark spot on the face of the earth, the Island of Sakhalin. Mr. Charles Hawes, in his book, In the Uttermost East, says that the Gilyaks believe that the spirits of the dead hold communication with their living relatives. They may come to give counsel, or to warn of impending misfortune. No human eye can see them, nor can the senses of the living detect their presence. Only to dogs is it given to know of their approach, and this knowledge they show by a peculiar howling. Mr. Hawes, who in normal health was, as his book shows, a man of strong common sense and iron nerves, as any visitor to Sakhalin needs to be, thus tells of his experience. “My conversion took place ... on the Okhotsk coast, where my interpreter and I lay awake one night in the tent of an Orotchon.... At about 2 A. M. a low howl began, echoed and varied by thirty or forty other members of the canine race, a low peculiar cry of pain growing into a long, drawn-out wail, rising and swelling until at last it ended in almost a scream.” “An unholy, ill-omened proceeding which surely nought earthly could account for,” is Mr. Hawes’ reflection on the occurrence, but he adds, “perhaps the fact that we were ill with ptomaine poisoning may have predisposed us to thoughts of Inligh-vo” (a village in the centre of the earth to which the spirits of the departed go). It is curious to note that in the beliefs of these wild people, the spirits of the murdered and suicides fly to tlo (heaven) direct, without a preliminary sojourn in the happy hunting grounds of Inligh-vo.
[10] Personal and Literary Letters of Robert, 1st Earl of Lytton, edited by Lady Betty Balfour.
[11] Simla Village Tales, by Alice Elizabeth Dracott.
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE:
Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.
Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.
Archaic or alternate spelling which may have been in use at the time of publication has been retained from the original.
On page 13, the word “with” was inserted so the sentence reads, But there could be no doubt in the mind of any one who was with him . . .