I was always fond of dogs, and never cease to admire their intelligence and sagacity.

My little Jack was given to me when quite a puppy by my old and very dear friend Lord Falmouth. He was brought to me by Lady Falmouth, and from that time his history was my history, for his companionship was constant and faithful; in my hours of labour and of pleasure he was always with me, and I believe, if I had had any sorrows, he would have shared them as he did my pleasures—nay, these he enhanced more than I can tell.

Of course he invariably came circuit, and sat with me in my lodgings and on the Bench, where he would patiently remain till the time came to close my notebook for the day. Whether he liked it or not I am unable to say, but he seemed to take an interest in the proceedings. About this, however, his reminiscences will speak for themselves. He always occupied the seat of honour in the Sheriff's carriage, and walked to it with a dignity worthy the occasion. I am glad to say the Judges all loved Jack, and treated him most kindly, not for my sake, but, I believe, for his own—although, I may add in passing, he sometimes gave them a pretty loud rebuke if they showed any approach to ill-humour on an occasional want of punctuality in coming into court. Some of them were exceedingly particular in being up to time to a moment; and I should have equal to the occasion at all times, but that I had to give Jack a run before we started for the duties of the day. It was necessary for his health and good behaviour. On circuit, of course, whenever there was little to do—I am speaking of the Midland particularly, although the Western was quite as pleasant—I gave him longer runs. For instance, in Warwick Park nothing could be more beautiful than to loiter there on a summer morning amongst the cedars on the beautiful lawn.

It may seem unreasonable to say so, but Jack almost seemed to be endowed with human instincts. He was as restless as I was over long, windy speeches and cross-examinations that were more adapted for the smoking-room of a club than a court of justice; and in order to repress any tendency to manifest his displeasure I gave him plenty of exercise in the open air, which made him sleep generally when counsel began to speak.

Having mentioned the commencement of my companionship with Jack, which in these reminiscences I would on no account omit, I shall let him hereafter tell his own experience in his own way.

JACK'S REMINISCENCES.

I was born into the family of my Lord Falmouth, and claim descent from the most well bred of my race in this kingdom, the smooth fox terrier. All my ancestors were noted for their love of sport, their keen sense of humour, and hatred of vermin.

At a very early period of my infancy I was presented to Sir Henry Hawkins, one of Her Majesty's Judges of the High Court, who took a great fancy to me, and, if I may say so without appearing to be vain, at once adopted me as his companion and a member of his family.

Sir Henry, or, as I prefer to call him, my lord, treated me with the sweetest kindness, and I went with him wherever it was possible for him to take me. At first my youthful waywardness and love of freedom—for that is inherent in our race—compelled him to restrain me by a string, which I sometimes pulled with such violence that my lord had to run; and on seeing us so amusing ourselves one morning, old Lord Grimthorpe, I think they called him, who was always full of good-natured chaff, cried out,—

"Halloa, Hawkins! What, has Jack made you his prisoner? Ha! ha! Hold him, Jack; don't let him get away!"

Well, this went on for several weeks, what I think you call chaff, and at last I was allowed to go without the string. It happened that on the very first morning when I was thus given my liberty, whom should we meet but this same old Lord Grimthorpe.

"Halloa!" he cries again—"halloa, Hawkins! Does your keeper let you go without being attached to a string?"

"No, no," says my lord—"no, no; Jack's attached to me now."

Thereupon dear old Grimthorpe, who loved a joke, laughed till his elbows rested on his knees as he stooped down.

"Well," said he, "that's good, Hawkins, very good indeed."

On one occasion one of those country yokels who always met us at Assize towns, and got as close up to our javelin-men as they could, so that we could not only see them but indulge our other senses at the same time, seeing us get out of our carriage, said to another yokel, "I say, Bill, blarmed if the old bloke ain't brought his dawg again—that there fox terrier—to go a-rattin'."

I did not know what "rattin'" meant at that time, and did not learn it till we got to Warwick. I thought it was rude to call my lord a "bloke," especially in his red robes; but did not quite know what "bloke" meant, for I had seen so little of mankind.

One morning before we opened the Commission at Warwick—I may as well come to it at once—my lord and I went for a walk along the road that leads over the bridge by Warwick Castle towards Leamington. There is a turning to a village which belonged to the old days, but does not seem now to belong to anything, and looks something like a rural watering-place, quiet and unexciting. We turned down this quiet road, and came alongside a beautiful little garden covered with flowers of all kinds.

I had occasion afterwards to learn whom they belonged to; but I will tell you before we go further, so as to make the situation intelligible. He was a countryman who used to make it his boast that he never had a day's schooling in his life (so that he ought to have been leader of the most ignorant classes), and this made him the independent man he was towards his betters. Then my Lady Warwick used to take notice of him, and this also gave him another lift in his own estimation. He learnt to read in the long run, for he really had a good deal of native talent for a man, and set himself up for a politician and a something they call a philosopher, which any man can be with a pint pot in front of him, I am told, especially at a village alehouse.

He was a great orator at the Gridiron beershop in the lane which runs round one part of my Lord Warwick's park, and it was said that old Gale—such was his name—had picked up most of his education from his own speeches. Gale was also the lawyer of the village—he could tell everybody what his rights were, if anybody had any besides Gale; but he declared he had been done out of his rights by a man who had lent his old father some money on the bit of land I am coming to.

As we went along, what should we see but a rat! I knew what he was in a moment, although I had never seen such a thing before, and knew I had to hunt him. My lord cries, "Cis!—rat, Jack—rats!"

Away I went after the rat—I did not care what his name was—and Sir Henry after me, with all the exuberance he used to show when he was following the "Quorn." Presently we heard the dreadful orator's voice using language only uttered, I am glad to say, amongst men.

"Where the h—l are you coming to like this?" he cried.

I forgot to say that our marshal was with us, and of course he took upon himself to explain how matters stood; indeed, it was one of his duties when Judges went out a-ratting to explain who they were. So when we arrived at the place where they were talking together, I heard the dreadful man say,—

"Judge o' th' land! He ain't much of a judge o' th' land to tear my flowers to pieces like that. Look at these 'ere toolips."

The marshal explained how that it was for the improvement of Sir Henry
Hawkins's health that a little fresh air was taken every morning.

"Lookee 'ere," says Gale, "I didn't know it wur the Judge doin' me the honour to tear my flower-beds to pieces. I bin workin' at these 'ere beds for months, and here they are spilt in a minit; but I tell ee what, Orkins or no Orkins, he ain't gwine to play hell with my flower-beds like that 'ere. If he wants the ground for public improvement, as you call it, well, you can take it under the Act. There's room enough for improvement, I dessay."

Now, instead of his lordship sending the man to prison, as I thought to be sure he must do, he speaks to him as mild as a lamb, and tells him he commends his spirit, and actually asks him what he valued the flowers at. A Judge condescending to do that! This mollified the old man's temper, and turned away his flowery wrath, so he said at once he wasn't the man to make a profit out o' the circum_starnce_; but right was right, and wrong worn't no man's right, with a great many other proverbs of a like nature, which are as hard to get rid of amongst men and women as precedents amongst Judges; and then the old man, much against his will and inclination, had a sovereign forced upon him by our marshal, which he put into his pocket, and then accompanied us to the gate.

Now came this remarkable circumstance. When we got back to our lodgings after being "churched," what should we find but a beautiful nosegay of cut flowers in our drawing-room from old Gale, and every morning came a similar token of his good-nature and admiration while we were there, and the same whenever we went on that circuit.

One of our servants was kind enough to make me a set of robes exactly like my lord's, which I used to wear in the Court of Crown Cases Reserved and at high functions, such as the Queen's Birthday or Chancellor's breakfast. In court I always appeared in mufti on ordinary occasions—that is to say, I did not appear at all ostentatiously, like some men, but sat quietly on my lord's robe close to his chair.

I well remember one occasion while we were at Hereford, a very pompous and extremely proper town, as all cathedral cities are; my lord and I were robed for the reception of the High Sheriff (as he is called) and his chaplain, who were presently coming with the great carriage to take us to be churched before we charged the grand jury.

Hereford is a very stately place, and enjoys a very high opinion of its own importance in the world. It is almost too respectable to admit of the least frivolity in any circumstances. You always seemed to be going to church at Hereford, or just coming out—the latter was nicest—so that there was, in my time, a sedateness only to be equalled by the hardness of a Brazil nut, which would ruin even my teeth to crack. I don't know if that is a proper way in which to describe a solid Herefordian; but if so, judge of the High Sheriff's surprise, as well as that of the chaplain, when I walked by the side of my lord into our drawing-room! I never saw a clergyman look so glum! We were both in robes, as I observed, and my lord was so pleased with my appearance that he held me up for the two dignitaries to admire. But Hereford does not admire other people; they confine their admirations within their own precincts.

On our way from the station to our lodgings, I ought to have said, both these gentlemen were full of praises. Who would not admire a Judge's companion?

Although Sheriff and chaplain were highly proper, the former could not restrain a hearty laugh, while the latter tightened his lips with a reproving smile. But then the chaplain, with a proper reverence for the State function, afterwards looked very straight down his nose, and, hemming a little, ventured to say,—

"My lord, are you really going to take the little dog to divine service in the cathedral?"

My lord looked quite astonished at the question, and then put his face down to me and pretended to whisper and then to listen. Afterwards he said,—

"No. Jack says not to-day; he doesn't like long sermons."

The chaplain would much rather I had gone to church than have heard such a reprimand.

But this is not quite the end of my reminiscence. I heard on the best authority that the sermon of the chaplain on that morning was the shortest he had ever preached as an Assize discourse, and my lord attributed it entirely to my supposed observation on that subject, so that my presence, at all events, was useful.

I have always observed that lesser dignitaries are more jealous of their dignity than greater ones. Here was an excellent example of it. The chaplain looked very severe, but when this little story reached the ears of the good Bishop Atlay he was delighted, and wished to see me. I was becoming famous. I made my call in due course, and let him see that a Judge's dog was not to be put down by a mere chaplain, and came away much gratified with his lordship's politeness. After this, during our stay in the city, the Bishop gave me the run of his beautiful new garden along the riverside. And there my lord and I used to gambol for an hour after our duties in court were over. This lovely garden was an additional pleasure to me, because I was relieved from a muzzle. There was only one thing wanting: the Bishop kept no rats.

After this his lordship never saw my lord without asking the question, "How's dear Jack?" which showed how much a Bishop could respect a little dog, and how much superior he was to a chaplain. I heard him say once we were all God's creatures, but that, of course, I was not able to understand at the time. I did not know if it included the chaplain.

I think I must now tell a little story of myself, if you will not think me conceited. It is about a small matter that happened at Cambridge. One day a very amiable but dreadfully noisy advocate was cross-examining a witness, as I thought, rather angrily, because the man would not say exactly what he wanted him to say. My lord did not take notice of this, and it went on until I thought I would call his attention to the counsel's manner, and, accordingly, gave a growl—merely a growl of inquiry. Brown—which was the counsel's name—was a little startled at this unexpected remonstrance, and paused, looking up at the Judge.

"Go on," said my lord—"go on, pray," pretending not to know the cause of the interruption.

He went on accordingly for a considerable time, with a very noisy speech—so noisy that one could not hear one's self bark, which I did two or three times without any effect. However, at last I made one of my best efforts.

But this was bad policy, inasmuch as it attracted too much attention to myself, who had been hitherto unseen.

My lord, however, thanks to his presence of mind, had the kindness to say,—

"Dear me! I wish people would not bring their dogs into court." Then turning to our marshal, he said, "Take Jack into Baron Pollock's room"—the Baron had just gone in to lunch, for he was always punctual to a minute—"and ask him to give him a mutton-chop."

And when, five minutes later, my lord came in, the Baron was enjoying his chop, and I was eating my lord's.

In another court the Judge administered a well-timed rebuke to a flippant and very egotistical counsel, and I could hardly restrain myself from administering another. During the progress of a dreadfully long address to the jury for the defence, he said,—

"Why, gentlemen, there is not sufficient evidence against the prisoner on which to hang a dog."

"And how much evidence, Mr. ——, would you consider sufficient to hang a dog?"

"That would depend, my lord, as to whom the dog belonged."

I thought how like human nature that young man was.

I used to have a very good view of all that took place in court, and could tell some very funny as well as interesting stories about persons I have seen.

One day I was amused so much that, had I not remembered where I was, I must, like my friends mentioned by Robert Burns in his "Twa Dogs," have "barked wi' joy," because I thought it so strange. Here was a Queen's Counsel, a man of so proper a countenance that I do not think it ever smiled in its life, and so very devoted to his profession that he would never think of leaving it to go to a racecourse. I should have as soon expected to meet him in our dogs' home looking for a greyhound to go coursing with on Primrose Hill,—and here he was standing up on his hind legs, and making an application to the court which my lord was never in his life known to grant.

It was the night before the Derby, and we always took care to have a full list of cases for that Wednesday, for fear the public should think we went to the Derby and left the work to look after itself. We generally had about a dozen in pretty early in the afternoon of Tuesday, so that the suitors and witnesses, solicitors and all others whom it concerned, might know where they were, and that they could not go to the Derby the following day.

What a scene it was as soon as this list was published! I used to sit and watch the various applicants sidle into their seats with the most sheepish faces for men I ever saw. In came the first gentleman, flustered with excitement.

"Would your lordship allow me to make an application?"

"Yes," said my lord—"yes; I see no objection. What is your application, Mr. ——?" I will not give his name.

"There is a case, my lord, in to-morrow's list—number ten. It is quite impossible, seeing the number of cases before it, that that case can be reached."

"If that is so," said my lord, "there is no necessity for making any application—if you know it is impossible to reach it, I mean to say—"

"It is ex abundanti cautela, my lord."

I think that was the expression, but, as it is not dog-Latin, I am not sure.

"It is a good horse to run, I dare say," said my lord, "but I don't think he'll win this time."

The counsel shook his head and would have smiled, I could see that, only he was disappointed. I felt sorry for him, because his clients had made arrangements to go to the Derby. As he was turning disconsolately away my lord spoke with a little more encouragement in his tone and a quiet smile.

"We will see later, Mr. ——. Is your client unable to appear to-morrow?"

"I'm afraid so, my lord, quite."

"Have you a doctor's certificate?"

"I am afraid not, my lord; he is not ill."

"Then you can renew the application later; but understand, I am determined to get through the list."

That was so like my lord; nothing would turn him from his resolution, if he sat till midnight, and I nearly barked with admiration.

Then came number six on the list, with the same complaint that it was not likely to be reached.

"I'm not so sure," said Sir Henry. "I have just refused number ten; yours is a long way before that. Some of the previous ones may go off very soon; there does not seem to be anything very long in front of you, Mr. ——. What's your difficulty about being here?"

"The real difficulty, my lord—" And as he hesitated the Judge said,—

"You want to be elsewhere?"

"Frankly, my lord, that is so."

"Very well; if both sides are agreed, I have no objection. If I am not trying your case I shall be trying some one else's, and it is a matter of perfect indifference to me whose case it is."

An hour after in came a brisk junior stating that his leader was unavoidably absent.

"What is the application, Mr. Wallsend?"

"There's a case on your lordship's list for to-morrow, my lord."

"Yes. What number?"

"Number seven, my lord. I am told number six is a long case, and sure to be fought. My application is that, as that case will last over Friday—"

"Friday? Why Friday?"

There was a little laughter, because it happened to be the Oaks day.

"I'm told it's a long case, my lord."

"Yes, but number six has gone, so that you will stand an excellent chance of coming on about two o'clock, perhaps a little before. What is the nature of your case?"

"Illegal imprisonment, my lord."

"Very well; if it is any convenience to you, Mr. Wallsend, I will take it last."

By the look of the young man it seemed of no great convenience.

"That will give your witnesses time to be here, I hope."

The counsel shook his head, and then began to say that the fact was that his client had an engagement, and his lordship would see it was the great race of the year.

"I do not like these applications made in this random manner. I am willing to oblige the parties in all cases if I can, but these constant motions to postpone interfere very much with the public convenience, and I mean to say that the public are to be considered."

Now came the gentleman who never attended races, and devoted himself to business. He could not have told you the name of a horse to save his life. But he also made his application to postpone a case until Thursday. Delightful day, Thursday; such a convenient day, too—between the Derby and the Oaks.

Said my lord, who was very friendly to the learned counsel, and liked him not only as a member of his old circuit, but as a brother Bencher and a clever advocate,—

"Oh, I see; I see where you want to be to-morrow."

"My lord!"

It was no use; in spite of the gentleman's remonstrance and protestations, he said,—

"You may go, Mr. ——, and I hope you will enjoy yourself."

I need hardly say nothing was left of the list by twelve o'clock the next day, and Sir Henry had the honour of going in the royal train and dining at Marlborough House in the evening.

I ought, perhaps, to mention that there was a case proceeding when all these interruptions took place. I don't know the name, but two counsel were in it, one of whom was remarkable for the soul of wit which is called brevity, and the other was not. One was Frank Lockwood, Q.C., a very amusing counsel, whom I always liked, because he often sketched me and my lord in pen and ink.

Mr. Jelf, Q.C., was the other learned counsel. Although I liked most of the barristers, I often wished I could teach them the invaluable lesson when to leave off. It would have saved many a verdict, and given me the opportunity of hearing my own voice.

Lockwood was cross-examining, and appeared to me dealing rather seriously with Jelf's witnesses, who were a pious body of gentlemen, and prided themselves, above all things, on speaking the truth, as though it was a great credit not to commit perjury.

At last Mr. Jelf, tired with being routed in so ruthless a manner, cried in a lamentable voice,—

"Pray, pray, Mr. Lockwood!"

"So I do," said Lockwood—"so I do, Mr. Jelf, at fitting and proper times."