“_They also know And reason not contemptibly._”
Jet, in appearance and character, had a distinction all his own. That the latter was due to a subtle cleverness which frequently led him from the paths of virtue did not prevent his being in private life a dog of high moral character. He never condescended to petty thieving, but when an occasion presented itself that he felt was worthy of his powers, Jet threw himself into it with all the enthusiasm of a true artist.
He was a King Charles spaniel of a type now unknown, and was believed to be the last specimen of his kind. He was coal black from tip to tail, and had lovely blue-black eyes that completed the duskiness of his appearance. His head was not so short as the present fashion demands, though it was shorter than those painted by Landseer, or portrayed by the eighteenth-century artists.
As a puppy he was too leggy for perfect beauty, but there was no evidence of this when he thickened out, and had grown a silky coat that swept the ground, from the tip of his undocked feathery tail to his ears. The latter were of extraordinary length, and would tie easily over his mouth--in a bow his family declared, but certainly in a love knot. When he was six months old, he came from his home in the Isle of Wight into the possession of one of the family, with some member of which he spent the remainder of his life.
While his master, who was a curate, was still living at home, Jet started on the career that made him famous. Belonging to another member of the family was a Blenheim puppy, of the kind now known as a Ruby. Both the mites were fond of Pearl biscuits, and these were bought for them in small quantities, as they did not come within the scope of the lawful housekeeping arrangements. The little fat Peter was more than once found busily engaged on the floor with a bag of his favourite dainties, though this had been put well out of his reach, and his size and shape forbade the idea of his having fetched it down. But one day when the dining-room door was standing half open, Jet was seen to jump on to the sideboard, shake and break the bag of biscuits, and, after securing what he wanted for himself, push the lightened bag down to the waiting Peter. At the first movement of the door Jet flew from his perch, and by the time the visitor was in the room he was sitting in a corner looking a model of innocence and ignorance. Peter, meanwhile, ate hard, while there was still time, but _his_ lapses from virtue were explained.