Partridge Shooting.

The Badminton Magazine. September 1895

The best nose I ever saw on a dog—if the expression may be used where there was uncommonly little nose to look at— belonged to my lately deceased acrobatic friend and companion, a pug. In turnips, if I walked past a bird that would not get up, whether partridge or pheasant, ‘Snooker’ would turn back and feather about, never failing to put it up. I have often known him to find a running bird, when the retrievers proper were hopelessly at fault as to the direction it had taken. A wild little beast, he would run a hare by scent and sight over half-a-dozen fields, and come back with an expression that betokened no sense of shame. His favourite sport was bringing the woodpigeons shot in covert, but had he been broken he would have made a most useful dog for any game that he was big enough to carry. Peace to his memory,
about which linger many tender thoughts!

Lord Walsingham