Maida was uniformly gentle except--aristocrat that he was!--to the poorly-dressed and to artists. His detestation of the latter may be explained by the number of times he had been obliged to pose for them;--the mere sight of a brush and palette was at last enough to make him run. His bark was deep and hollow; and sometimes, says Sir Walter, “he amused himself with howling in a very tiresome way. When he was very fond of his friends he used to grin, tucking up his whole lips and showing all his teeth, but it was only when he was particularly disposed to recommend himself.” Once he got hung by the leg, in trying to jump a park paling, and began to howl. But seeing his friends approach, “he stopped crying, and waved his tail by the way of signal, it was supposed, for assistance.” Luckily he was not much hurt, and most grateful for his rescue. The pleasant Irish authoress, Miss Edgeworth, was also fond of animals; and Scott’s correspondence with this lady is full of allusions to their mutual canine friends. In April, 1822, he tells her that Maida can no longer follow him far from the house, and adds: “I have sometimes thought of the final cause of dogs having such short lives; and I am quite satisfied that it is in compassion to the human race; for if we suffer so much in losing a dog after an acquaintance of ten or twelve years, what would it be if they were to live double that time?” We can well imagine his grief when finally (October, 1824) Maida passed away painlessly, in his straw. They buried him at Abbotsford gate where he had so long kept watch and ward, with his own marble likeness for monument,--and for epitaph-- “Beneath the sculptured form which late you wore, Sleep soundly, Maida, at your master’s door.” He still lives, however, in the story of Woodstock, as Bevis, the gallant hound of Alice Lee. Nimrod and Bran succeeded Maida, and although they could not replace him, were fine fellows. There was also a black greyhound, Hamlet, who usually “behaved most prince-like,” but when Washington Irving visited Abbotsford, got into mischief and killed a sheep. Nimrod, too, was occasionally naughty, but the master never failed to befriend his dogs when they were in trouble, preferring to pay damages rather than lose them. Besides the large dogs, there was a whole retinue of smaller ones, among them Finette, a sensitive, lady-like spaniel, greatly favored by Lady Scott; and a number of Dinmont terriers. The latter all bore “cruet names,” there being in the house at one time a Pepper, Mustard, Ginger, Catchup, Soy and Spice. Spicie was a warm-hearted, affectionate little creature, and is often mentioned, especially to Miss Edgeworth. Her little friend--Scott once assured her--is recovering from an asthmatic attack, and is active, though thin, “extremely like the shadow of a dog on the wall.”