At this stage of the tour I will introduce, with the reader’s permission, my dog Sultan, the holder of seventeen first prizes. This dog, a handsome boar-hound, standing about thirty-four inches high at the shoulders and weighing some two hundred pounds, had been presented to me as a puppy by Prince Bismarck. Though I have never specially trained him, the dog has remarkable intelligence. My companion throughout my tour in America, he used to jump into the luggage van at every journey’s end to find my trunks, and those that were not too heavy for him to lift, he would bring out of the van. A similar performance would be repeated when we reached the hotel. Sultan would himself carry a good deal of the luggage upstairs, taking it up piece by piece, and disdaining the assistance of the niggers who would sometimes offer to give him help. Not unnaturally, he became a great favourite wherever we went, and, though it was against the regulations, the hotel managers would allow us to have him in our rooms. He would never go out without carrying a satchel containing his chain and muzzle, a box of pills, two brushes, a tooth brush, a comb, and a few pieces of flannel, which were used for rubbing him down and keeping his coat in careful condition. He seemed to know perfectly each of these contents, and if one was ever missing he would not be satisfied until it was found or replaced. Sultan can carry me very easily. Once in America I sprained my foot. I happened to be staying at the time at about the only hotel in the country which is not furnished with elevators. My rooms were on the second floor, and that faithful and devoted creature would carry me up and down stairs before and after each performance, for I was still able to fulfil my engagements despite the sprain.