The genuine collie is an ideal pet, but the cross-grained fleecy brutes bred for the show-bench are good neither for one thing nor another.  The real, homely, ugly collie never snaps at friends; the mongrel brute with the cross of Gordon setter is not safe for an hour at a time.  The real collie takes to sheep-driving by instinct; he will run three miles out and three miles in, and secure his master’s property accurately after very little teaching; the present champion of all the collies would run away from a sheep as if he had seen a troop of lions.  In any case, even when a collie is a genuine affectionate pet, his place is not in the house.  Let him have all the open air possible, and he will remain healthy, delightful in his manners, and preternaturally intelligent.  The dog of the day is the fox-terrier, and a charming little fellow he is.  Unfortunately it happens that most smart youths who possess fox-terriers have an exalted idea of their friends’ pugilistic powers, and hence the sweet little black, white, and tan beauty too often has life concerted into a battle and a march.  Still no one who understands the fox-terrier can help respecting and admiring him.  If I might hint a fault, it is that the fox-terrier lacks balance of character.  The ejaculation “Cats!” causes him to behave in a way which is devoid of well-bred repose, and his conduct when in presence of rabbits is enough to make a meditative lurcher or retriever grieve.  When a lurcher sees a rabbit in the daytime, he leers at him from his villainous oblique eye, and seems to say, “Shan’t follow you just now—­may have the pleasure of looking you up this evening.”  But the fox-terrier converts himself into a kind of hurricane in fur, and he gives tongue like a stump-orator in full cry.  I may say that, when once the fox-terrier becomes a drawing-room pet, he loses all character—­he might just as well be a pug at once.  The Bedlington is perhaps the best of all terriers, but his disreputable aspect renders him rather out of place in a refined room.  It is only when his deep sagacious eyes are seen that he looks attractive.  He can run, swim, dive, catch rabbits, retrieve, or do anything.  I grieve to say that he is a dog of an intriguing disposition; and no prudent lady would introduce him among dogs who have not learned mischief.  The Bedlington seems to have the power of command, and he takes a fiendish delight in ordering young dogs to play pranks.  He will whisper to a young collie, and in an instant you will see that collie chasing sheep or hens, or hunting among flower-beds, or baiting a cow, or something equally outrageous.  Decidedly the Bedlington does not shine as a pet; and he should be kept only where there are plenty of things to be murdered daily—­then he lives with placid joy, varied by sublime Berserker rage.