339
TO THE MEMORY OF SQUOUNCER
Squouncer was a dog by himself. Other dogs may boast of belonging to large families of collies, greyhounds, or dandies, with cousins as numerous as the sands of the sea; but there could only have been one Squouncer.
How did he get his name? Well, his master (before he became his master) saw the word Squouncer in a book he was reading, and thought it so delightful that he instantly made up his mind to search through the world till he could find a dog that would fit it.
And one day he found Squouncer. What was he like? He was what the French call a 'Beau-laid'—'beautiful-ugly.' His ancestors may have been bull-dogs, and it is whispered that they gained their laurels in Spain. Squouncer was a middling-sized dog, with a golden-brown skin, much the colour of dark amber. And he had a broad face, and a nose which stuck out that gave him the air of what used to be known as a 'fire-eater.' Like another gentleman of a similar disposition, he might have been nick-named 'fighting Bob' if you had only gone by bis looks, but a milder-mannered dog never snorted when he breathed—as long as there was no food in sight. Then, all the lion in Squouncer's forefathers rose up, and woe be to the person who came in his way.
It was just because he was so different from any other dog that ever was or ever will be that his master and mistress were so fond of him. Anybody who reads history
