Sable and White - The Autobiography of a Show Collie (A Vintage Dog Books Breed Classic)

By Gordon Stables

This moving but charming novel of a collie's turbulent life, was first published in 1893. It is now both expensive and very hard to find in its first edition. VINTAGE DOG BOOKS have republished it, using the original text and beautiful engravings and illustrations by Harrison Weir and Miss Winifred Austen. "Luath" is a sable and white collie of excellent parentage. His story is told in the first person. It takes the reader through his doggie life with its idyllic puppy days, then on through many terrible experiences, interspersed with some happier adventures, to his eventual retirement. A series of owners, some kind, some cruel, use him for both gain and pleasure. From the show benches of that era, to the sad world of lost dogs, life with the gypsies and numerous other escapades, our hero, oft accompanied by his Pug chum, Jim, tells a thrilling tale of a dogs life in Victorian England. This lengthy work consists of two hundred and seventy nine pages illustrated with vintage engravings. It will prove a fascinating read for all dog lovers, and especially for the collie enthusiast. "And the dog is still the faithful, Still the loving friend of man Ever ready at his bidding, Doing for him all he can." Many of the earliest dog books, particularly those dating back to the 1900s and before, are now extremely scarce and increasingly expensive. VINTAGE DOG BOOKS are republishing these classic works in affordable, high quality, modern editions, using the original text and artwork.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Vintage Dog Books
• Release date: Dec 1, 2020
• ISBN: 9781528769525

Book preview

SABLE AND WHITE

SABLE & WHITE SERIES.

Elegantly bound in Cloth. Illustrated.

Price 3/6 each.

OUR FOUR-FOOTED AND FEATHERED FRIENDS. By ALEYN MULLOY, 23 Illustrations by J. A. Shepherd.

SHIREEN AND HER FRIENDS. By GORDON-STABLES, M.D., C.M., R.N. Illustrated by Harrison Weir.

SABLE AND WHITE. The Autobiography of a Show Dog. By GORDON-STABLES, M.D., C.M., R.N. Illustrated by Harrison Weir. 2nd Edition.

CLEAR AS THE NOON DAY. By ETHEL PENROSE. 36 Illustrations by Edith Œ. Somerville.

LORD LYNTON’S WARD. By HELENA BROOKS. 36 Illustrations by Paul Hardy. 2nd Edition.

WOOING OF OSYTH. A Story of the Eastern Counties in Saxon Times. By KATE T. SIZER. 48 Illustrations by M. M. Blake.

THAT BOTHER OF A BOY. By GRACE STEBBING. 35 Illustrations by Paul Hardy. 3rd Edition.

SAYINGS AND DOINGS IN FAIRYLAND; or, Old Friends with New Faces. By D. S. SINCLAIR. Upwards of 40 Illustrations by Paul Hardy. 2nd Edition.

London: Jarrold and Sons, 10 and 11, Warwick Lane, E.C.

SABLE AND WHITE

THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A SHOW DOG

BY

GORDON-STABLES, M.D., C.M., R.N.

Author of Shireen and Her Friends, etc.

ILLUSTRATED BY HARRISON WEIR

TITLE PAGE BY MISS WINIFRED AUSTEN

LONDON

JARROLD & SONS, 10 & 11, WARWICK LANE, E.C.

[All Rights Reserved]

Dedication.

TO

MRS. FRANK Y. TOMS,

A SHIPMATE’S WIFE, HERSELF A SAILOR,

AND ONE WHOSE KINDLY

SYMPATHETIC HEART CAN FEEL FOR THE WOES

OF ALL CREATURES THAT

SUFFER LIFE,

THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED,

WITH EVERY FRIENDLY WISH,

BY

THE AUTHOR.

CONTENTS.

BOOK I.

LIFE ON THE SHOW BENCH.

SABLE & WHITE:

THE

AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A SHOW DOG.

CHAPTER I.

MY FIRST GRIEF.

Scene.—An old-fashioned and beautiful cottage on the banks of the Thames. A green and daisied lawn stretching down to the river. The house is many gabled and thatched, with a broad verandah on which rich red roses grow in wild luxuriance, that accord sweetly with the back-ground of grey, and with the cloudland of elm-green that rolls far behind.

T is the very sweetest time of all the glad year. Bird-song in the bushes, and the scent of syringa blossoms floating through the air.

A drowsy summer’s afternoon, a drowsy hum of insect life, a drowsy look about even the river itself and on the hazy landscape that lies beyond. A boating party have hushed their song, have drawn in their oars as if to drink in a portion of the quiet beauty that everywhere meets the eye.

Ah, but there is no drowsiness about the heart of the young girl that is one of the centre figures on the lawn.

"A little maid with laughing eye,

And rosy lips apart,

The sunbeams glancing on her hair,

And sunshine in her heart."

She had been gathering a garland of flowers to string round the neck of the old pet collie Luath, till a mischievous puppy and a half-daft kitten appeared on the scene, and now she is madder and merrier than either of them.

The little maiden’s father had been quietly smoking in his rocking chair and pretending to read the paper—her mother with her sewing walking near, until something attracted his attention. It was the gravity of a trio of dogs, that sat or lay not far off on this old-fashioned lawn.

He looks up now and his wife’s eyes follow his.

Wouldn’t you really think, dear? she says, they were talking of old times?

Yes, but note, it is the Newfoundland who is listening, and also, with half-closed eyes, Mr. Consequential, the pug, and Luath, honest old Luath, is telling the story of his life.

You must remember, Luath was saying, I wasn’t always a show dog. Oh! no. And I can recollect the time when me—ahem I should say I—and my five little brothers and sisters, used to gambol together in a tree-shaded paddock. That was when we were quite young. And what a lovely paddock that was, how green the grass and how pretty the hedges, all trailed over with wild roses and honeysuckle, while right at the bottom of it ran a stream of pure water, in which father and mother and my uncles and aunts used to gambol and bathe! I have said the grass was green, nevertheless we youngsters did not keep it over tidy. What a litter it was to be sure with our playthings! Mother brought us most of these. And I’ll never forget the gentle face of our loving ma as she used to lie on the sward and watch us at play. She herself was rather stiff, you know, to gambol much with us puppies, though I don’t suppose we always remembered that when we teased her, and tumbled over her, and pulled her ears and her great rough tail.

Beautiful puppies we were all of us, and I have often heard master say, as he patted my mother’s bonnie sable head, Out and out, he would say, you are the best Collie on the show benches, and the Collie with the longest pedigree. And, he added, I wouldn’t think much of a judge who said differently.

Then mother would lick his hand and look so pleased.

I knew nothing about benches in those happy days. But one day I asked mother.

Mother, I said, what are show-benches?

Enjoy yourself while you can, my dear, was her reply, you’ll find out all too soon what show-benches are. Now run away and romp.

As I have hinted we had plenty of toys in that paddock.

Pieces of half-gnawed wood, huge bones, blacking bottles, empty salmon tins, an old horse rug, a long rope, india-rubber balls to help us in cutting our teeth, and an old boot. I think an old boot is the finest thing in the world. First you pick up the boot and give it a shake or two as if you mean to kill it. Then you look mischievously round to your brothers and sisters, and say, This is my boot. Then you pick it up again, and off you go feathering round and round the paddock as fast as a flying train with the whole lot of your brothers and sisters after you in a stream. It is like being chased by walruses in the forests of Russia. Master says I mean wolves, well, there’s no great difference I dare say. But you are wild with joy at being able to keep ahead of them. But by and by they lay a trap for you, and lo! when you don’t think of it, one of them dashes out of a bush—an ambush, and rolls you over like a fox.

Then the fun grows fast and furious. Over and over we tumble in a heap, kicking and sprawling, biting and snarling—all pretence, you know—till we are too tired to play any longer. Then home to mother is the general cry. Of course she isn’t far off. She has been lying watching us all the time, and thinking of her young days. We go trotting along in a string now, with our pink tongues hanging out over the side, and our breath coming and going so fast you couldn’t count it, and when we throw ourselves down round mother’s head, she doesn’t know which of us to kiss or lick first. Heigho! these happy days are past and gone.

One day we heard mother utter a short, sharp bark, and we all did the same, feeling ourselves in duty bound to support her, though the effort of barking almost made us fall. But it was only the master coming along the paddock accompanied by some strange gentleman.

Hullo! I said to my sisters and brothers, here comes a stranger, let us rend him limb from limb. Follow me to death or victory.

Whereupon we all rushed to confront the newcomer, but somehow at the very last moment, our hearts failed us, and our valour fled.

Plucky little fellows, aren’t they? I heard master say.

A STRANGER COMING.

When master put down his hand among us we all tried to lick it at the same time. But he lifted me up in his arms, and marched off with me. I glanced wistfully back at my brothers and sisters, who all sat huddled in a heap, and looking very much astonished. How sad I felt! Poor mother came on after us with her head in the air, but was driven back, and I’ll never forget her pitiful, anxious face as she stood there with her ears drawn back into her frill and her eyes filled with sorrow and wonder combined. For, your majesty, I was her favourite child.

I never saw mother more, nor any of my brothers and sisters, nor—nor the old boot.

Good-bye, Luath, said master, patting my sable brow, be a good doggie to your new master.

A kindly hearted human was my old master; mother told me he had never spoken a cross word to her, and even when sick and ailing as he often was, he had always a smile and a kindly welcome for his doggies.

You’ll be sure to be kind to young Luath, won’t you? my old master called after the new one.

La! yes, sir, I’ll be kind enough to the young warmint.

He was carrying me half over his shoulder with my nose near his ear, and he gave me an angry little shake as he spoke. Had old master seen this I’m sure he would have come back and bitten him.

I myself felt inclined to catch his ear, but after mature deliberation I thought it would not be the best policy to commence acquaintance with him in this way. I thought he must be twice as tall again as master. Then he was so thin that his bones hurt me, and every step he walked jolted me.

On and on and on we trudged, and as he didn’t speak I began to think he might not be such a very bad human after all, so I took my tongue across his great red ear.

None o’ that, softie, he grunted, giving me an awful shake.

I was silent.

Then I began to wonder where I was being taken to, and my heart too began to quake, as I remembered the terrible stories dear mother used to tell me about all the sorrows of the canine race, even of puppies; how they were often taken away to a cold mill dam, a brick tied round their necks and sunk, and how they were often hung by the neck to a tree. I shook with fear each time the Ogre who carried me passed near a tree, and when we reached the canal and he stopped to look in at the black cruel water, I thought my hour had come, and that in I would be plunged.

I struggled to get down off his shoulder, but the Ogre seized my paws and even my throat, and shook me till I felt more dead than alive.

What are ye a-doing of, you varmint? Be quiet, will yer? I half repent my bargain already. If I gets five bob by ye it’ll be all.

I was quiet enough after this, and all the rest of the journey, but oh! it was a terrible ride. But my terror was increased when we came to a place where hundreds of strange people were all bustling about and shouting, with great carriages running at an awful speed along the ground with loud screams, and puffing and blowing, a noise that was fearful to hear. The Ogre now stopped and lowered me off his bony shoulder.

Got the box handy, matie? he cried to a human, that I now know was a railway porter. Bring him here then.

Oh! how I struggled. I was going to be buried alive then. Oh! if mother were only here to protect me.

And now for the first time in my life I found out what a blow meant. I was beaten on the back and on the head till my poor nose was bleeding. Then the Ogre pushed me down with the lid and I knew no more for a time. When I recovered the light was glimmering in through some holes in the lid; but when I tried to move I found I hadn’t space to lift a paw, besides a cruel nail was pricking me, and I was fain to lie still and cry to myself. But the jolting was dreadful. Worse than riding on the backs of a thousand million of ogres.

I fell asleep at last, and must have slept a long time, for I felt hungry when I awoke in spite of all my misery.

But worse was to come. The carriage, for it was a carriage I was in, stopped after giving two or three startling shrieks. Then more light came in through the lid of my coffin. A door had been opened. There was much noise and loud talking, and I barked and yelped, thinking someone might take pity on me. But, no.

Suddenly something heavy alighted on the top of my coffin. All was dark. It had come at last then, and I was buried alive.

I must not harrow your feelings by describing to you what I then suffered. First the awful heat, then the thirst—oh! the thirst, the thirst; and worse, after a time, the panting, the gasping, the struggling for the air, that wasn’t there to breathe.

I was dead at last, I thought. Mother had told me all about death, and told us how foolish human bipeds are, who believe that dogs have no hereafter. Just, she said, as if the Great Master ever made anything in vain.

Yes, I was dead, there was no doubt about that, I thought. First bright sparks had flashed across my eyes with lights of every hue and colour. Then these coloured lights became a picture, and that picture was the paddock with mother and brothers and sisters all there, just as when I was alive. And the old boot too.

Had it been all a dream then? Perhaps, for when I looked wofully up, I was once more in the arms of the Ogre.

CHAPTER II.

FIRST MEETING WITH JIM.

WAS glad now to receive a cup of water from a railway guard. I drank as I had never drank before.

Come, now, grunted the Ogre, you’ve had enough now for your good.

I was put back into my box. I cared little now what happened, and after being rattled through a large town in a real carriage, I was taken out at my new home.

I felt myself being carried up a stair, then bumped down on a floor, and presently the lid of the box was opened by the Ogre himself. Now strangely enough I felt reluctant to leave it. I knew what the box was, but I could not tell what the Ogre might do with me. But he roughly hauled me out, and so cramped was I, that I could not move, but lay on a pallet of straw for hours without moving. But I revived at last, and curiosity getting the better of me, I gazed fearfully round. I had never seen the inside of a room before, except once, when I had followed my mother into one of old master’s. But very different indeed was this. Hardly a bit of furniture in it, except one old chair—near a dingy window—in which the Ogre sat. He looked more like an Ogre now than ever, for a fiery stick was between his lips, and smoke issuing from his mouth. I had never seen the like before, and my heart once again sank with dread.

The room, before I opened my eyes, had been so still, that I thought it quite deserted. Instead of being so, I perceived now that there were many poor little dogs in cages all round the room.

Though small they were old dogs, and when I got up and walked into the middle of the room they all looked at me with such sad eyes, that I felt sorry for them and alarmed for myself. The Ogre would, no doubt, take them out one by one and eat them, and then eat me, the last comer.

These poor little dogs all lay on pallets of very unclean straw, and the odour in the room was far from pleasant.

The Ogre called me towards him, and when he bent down and patted my head I wagged my tail and licked his hand for perfect joy. By and bye he went out, and I now summoned up courage to walk to the cages and talk with the other dogs.

You look very green, said one. Only a puppy I daresay. What? Only came up from the country to-day? Come to town by boat or by train?

I hadn’t the least idea what they meant, and told them so, at which they grinned and laughed, and the one who was chief spokesman said,

You’ll soon be jolly sorry you’ve been stolen.

I knew what that meant because mother had told me.

I wasn’t stolen, I said. A man came in daylight and took me away.

Ah, well, said Jim, who was a beautiful pug, I was stolen. I am stolen every six months or so. I only wish my mistress would come now and take me away.

Is your mistress very good to you?

I have a fine home, you know, Jim replied, and too much to eat, but I’m always led out on a string. Now that’s horrid.

Then I told them sitting there, all about my own happy home and about the green paddock, the waving trees, mother, and the old boot.

Hush! now, said Jim, we’re all going to have dinner. Cat’s meat, and a kind of hash of potatoes and flour. Faugh! After dinner we all go out for a romp. And mind, hurry in when he tells you.

He carries a big whip, and knows how to use it, too. He is a terrible man, Bill Higgins. Do you see Jack yonder? Well, he has a long tail. I keep mine up out of the way. Jack one day wouldn’t come in quick enough, so he cracked the whip—Higgins, I mean, not Jack,—and Jack made a bolt to get in past him. Then Higgins slammed the door spitefully—didn’t he, Jack?

Spitefully, said Jack sadly.

And jammed poor Jack’s tail. Lost a joint, haven’t you, Jack?

Jack nodded.

Poor Jack, said Jim, he never has much to say. He was brought from a nice home in the country; but Higgins—none of us calls him master—says he’s a deal too ugly to sell, so he means to hang him.

On hearing this I couldn’t eat a bit.

After dinner we were taken downstairs two by two for exercise.

I was glad that I was brought out with Jim, because he kept whispering to me and telling me things.

But, oh, what a place we were taken to. Only an empty yard between four bare walls. Grass may have once grown here, but now the soil was black and bare.

Oh, Jim, I said, when I think of my paddock and my mother and the boot, I——

"Hush! don’t begin to whimper, else you’ll get the