He was a large black dog, of the largest and strongest kind of greyhounds; very fast and honest, and resolute past example; an excellent killer of hares, and a most magnificent and noble-looking creature.

His coat was of the finest and most glossy black, with no white, except a very little under his feet (pretty white shoe linings I used to call them)--a little beautiful white spot, quite small, in the very middle of his neck, between his chin and his breast--and a white mark on his bosom.

His face was singularly beautiful; the finest black eyes, very bright, and yet sweet, and fond, and tender--eyes that seemed to speak; a beautiful, complacent mouth, which used sometimes to show one of the long white teeth at the side; a jet black nose; a brow which was bent and flexible, like Mr.Fox's, and gave great sweetness and expression, and a look of thought to his dear face.

There never was such a dog! His temper was, beyond comparison, the sweetest ever known.

Nobody ever saw him out of humor.