, 1862-03-29
An Introduction to Rab.

/
An Introduction to Rab.
Four-and-thrty years ago, Bob Ainslie and l
were coming up Infrmary street from the Edin-
burgh High School, our heads together, and our
arms ntertwisted, as only lovers and boys know
how, or why.
When we got to the top ofthe street, and turned
orth, we esped a crowd at the Iron Church.
" A dog fight" shouted Bob, and was off; and so
was l, both of us all but praying that it might
not be over before we got up And is not this
boy-nature and human nature tooP and don't
we all wish house on fire not to be out before
we see itP Dogs like fighting old Isaac says
they delight" in it, and for the best of all
reasons and boys are not cruel because they like
to see the fight They see three of the great
cardinal virtues of dog OR man-courage, endur-
ance and skill-in intense action This is very
different from a love of making dogs fight, and
enjoying, and aggravating, and making gain by
their pluck. A boy-be he ever so fond him
self of fighting, if he be good boy, hates and
despises all this, but he would have run off with
Bob and me fast enough; it is a natural, and not
wicked interest, that all boys and men have in
witnessing intense energy and action.
Does any curious and fnely-ignorant woman
wish to know how Bob's eve at a glance an
nounced dog-fght to his brain He did not, he
could not see the dogs fighting it was flash of
an inference, rapid induction. The crowd round
a couple of DOES fqhtinc is crowd p.a----i,
mainly, with an occasional active, compassionate
woman, futtering wildly round the outside, and
using her tongue and her hands freely upon the
men, as so many brutes )" it is a crowd annular,
compact and mobile; a crowd centripetal, having
its eyes and its heads all bent downwards and in
wards to one common focus.
Well, Bob and l are up and find it is not over /;
a small thoroughbred white bull-terrier, is busy
throttng large Shepherds dog, unaccustomed
to war; but not to be trAed with. They are hard
at it the scientific little fellow doing his work in
great style, his pastoral enemy fighting wildly,
but with sharp teeth and great courage. Science
and breeding, however, soon had their own the
Game Chicken as the premature Bob called him,
working his way up, took his final grip of poor
Yarrows throat-and he lay gasping and done
for. His master, brown handsome, big young
shepherd from Tweedsmuir, would have liked to
have knocked down any man, would drink up
Esil, or eat CROCODILE" for that part, if he had
chance; it was no use kicking the little dog
that would only make him hold the closer. Many
were the means shouted out in mouthfus, of the
best possible ways of ending it. Water y but
there was none near, and many cried for it who
might have got it from the well at Blackfriars
Wynd. Bite the tail !" and large vague, be-
nevolent, middle-aged man, more desirous than
wise, with some struggle got the bushy end of
Yarrow's tail into his ample mouth, and bit it
with all his might This was more than enough
for the much-enduring, much perspiring shepherd;
who, with CLEAN of joy over his broad visage,
delivered terrific facer upon our large, vague,
benevolent, middle-aged friend-who went down
like a shot.
Still the Chicken holds death not far off
F." Snuff pinch of snuff |" observed a calm,
highly-dressed young buck, with an eye-glass in
his eve. "Snuf, indeed" growled the angry
crowd, affronted and glaring. "Snuff pinch
of snuff" again observes the buck, but with more
urgency; whereon were produced several open
boxes and from null which may have been at
Culloden, he took pinch, knet down, and pre-
sented it to the nose of the Chicken. The laws
of physiology and of snuff take their course; the
Chicken sneezes, and Yarrow is free.
The young pastoral giant stalks off with Var
row in his arms-comforting him.
But the bull-terrier's blood is up, and his soul
unsatisfed, he grips the first dog he meets, and
discovering she is not dog, in Homeric phrase,
he makes brief sort of Gmende, and is off. The
boys, with Bob and me at their head are after
him down Niddry street he goes, bent on mis-
chief; up the Cowgate like an arrow-Bob and 1,
and our small men, painting behind.
There, under single arch of the South Bridge,
is huge mastiff sauntering down the middle of
the causeway, as if with his hands in his pockets
he is old, gray, brindled, as big as little High
land bull, and he has the Shaksperan dewlaps
shaking as he goes.
The Chicken makes straight at him, and fastens
on his throat. To our astonishment, the creature
does nothing but stand still, hold himself up, and
rosr-yes, roar; long, serions, remonstrative