We have never shown, because we think the show bench and judging ring are not good for dogs which are really meant for business, but we use many of the leading prize strains. "Dinah," the best retriever I ever had, and a bitch which seems to have the power of transmitting her virtues to her descendants, is a black retriever of a well-known strain. She is a model of intelligence and a beautiful worker. She watches the birds fall, and is wonderfully good in marking the spot where they come to the ground. No bird ever escapes her, unless it goes to ground, as pheasants will sometimes, and you can call her up at any moment. I attribute her obedience and docility to the fact that she has been my constant companion, for retrievers cannot be too much with their owners, and the first thing in training is to make friends with the puppy, and get him thoroughly in hand before his field education begins. Nothing is more fatal than a headstrong disposition, which I am convinced is often the result of bad treatment. "In for a penny, in for a pound," seems to be the reflection of a retriever, when looking back at his raging master and evidently understanding that he will be beaten in any case, he goes off for an entrancing chase after a hare, thus perhaps spoiling half a day's sport for you. And vice once contracted is most difficult to eradicate, indeed it was my bitter experience on this point which led me to undertake the education of my retrievers myself. As soon as I had attained to some skill in shooting, it was my custom to take my gun with me whenever I went out for a walk. Now, there is a small river which runs through our grounds, and at a part of its course feeds a number of ponds in which probably were fish stews in the time of the monks, who were our predecessors. There are one or two small islands on these ponds. One day I had out with me a new purchase, a good-looking black dog. He came to heel, and retrieved a rabbit I shot, fairly well. It so happened, however, that not far from the river an old cock pheasant got out of the hedgerow, and as it was late in the season and we had done covert shooting, this was a chance for me, so I fired and hit him. The bird, however, went on, towered and fell into one of the ponds. Directly I gave the word off went my dog, and I began to think I had got a treasure. He went straight for the water, plunged boldly in, and swam direct to the bird, but then to my horror, he went off to the island, and taking the pheasant ashore proceeded to eat it.