I Hear of Sherlock Everywhere: James O'Leary

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The Adventure of the Fur-Trimmed Hat

<h3 style="margin-left: 80px; text-align: left;"> "all tell the same story of this dreadful <span class="highlight">apparition" [HOUN] <br /></span></h3><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0YlALh-20EBmFVyCDIUXotW-4YWq2DYQA5eSnVYOmG1C6_ClNB8Fe72ndqpMJL0nm_PSH-zJs8dNWcMXZcNQN7zPGD2ozTkCMs0dhAkVUfJue56ytrDCKgoI2HrOJt1Gz6htptGnb0wMxZ-IwnrHHQsajxkPZ1nroicvoAYlsciLh8k_Em_fw3hnbnC01/s340/SH_BLUE-0122.PNG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="292" data-original-width="340" height="350" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0YlALh-20EBmFVyCDIUXotW-4YWq2DYQA5eSnVYOmG1C6_ClNB8Fe72ndqpMJL0nm_PSH-zJs8dNWcMXZcNQN7zPGD2ozTkCMs0dhAkVUfJue56ytrDCKgoI2HrOJt1Gz6htptGnb0wMxZ-IwnrHHQsajxkPZ1nroicvoAYlsciLh8k_Em_fw3hnbnC01/w407-h350/SH_BLUE-0122.PNG" width="407" /></a></div><br /> <div>[<i><b>Editor's note:</b> the following is a parody for the holiday season, submitted by James C. O'Leary</i>] <br /><p></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt;">I had called upon my friend Sherlock Holmes on Christmas Eve,
with the intention of wishing him the compliments of the season. He was
lounging upon the sofa in a chartreuse dressing-gown, the day’s newspapers
well-studied and his black briar emitting a curl of blue smoke in the ashtray.
Beside the couch was a straight-backed chair, and on the stile hung a seedy and
disreputable fur-trimmed stocking hat, much the worse for wear. A lens and a
forceps lying upon the seat of the chair suggested that the hat had been hung
with care for the purpose of examination.</span></p>

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">"You are engaged," said I, "perhaps I
interrupt you." </span></p>

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">"Not at all. I am glad to have a friend with whom I can
discuss my results. The matter is a perfectly trivial one" (he motioned
his thumb with a jerk in the direction of the cone-shaped covering), "but
there are points in connection with it which are not entirely devoid of
interest, and even of instruction." </span></p>

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I seated myself in his armchair, and accepted the glass of
heated eggnog Holmes offered, for the day had been still and cold and now that
night had fallen, it was colder still. "I suppose," I remarked after
a sip of the landlady’s concoction and the warm glow that started to radiate
from within, "that, homely as it is, this thing has some deadly story
linked to it--- that it is the clue which will guide you in the solution of
some profound mystery, and the punishment of some malefactor." </span></p>

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">"No, no. No crime," said Sherlock Holmes, laughing.
"Only one of those whimsical little incidents which will happen when you
have four and a half million human beings cheek-by-jowl within the space of a
few square miles. Amid the action and reaction of so dense a swarm of humanity,
every possible combination of events may be expected to take place, and many a
little problem will be presented which may be striking and bizarre without
being criminal. You know Peterson, the commissionaire?" </span></p>

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">"It is to him that this trophy belongs." </span></p>

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">"No, no; he found it. Its owner is unknown. I beg that
you will look upon it, not as a tattered tupplue, but as a conical conundrum.
Your arrival is fortuitous as Peterson is downstairs with Mrs. Hudson getting a
cup of tea and I as yet have listened to his story. We shall listen to it
together. In the meantime let us see what we can deduce of the owner.”</span></p>

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">"Precisely." </span></p>

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">"But you are joking. What can you gather from this old
battered bonnet?" </span></p>

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">"Here is my lens. You know my methods. What can you
gather yourself as to the individuality of the man who has worn this
article?"</span></p>

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I took the harried headgear in my hands, and turned it over
rather ruefully. It was a red triangular plush cap with a white fur pom-pom at
the point, and white fur trim around the base. The lining had been of red silk,
but was a good deal sweat stained. There was no maker's name, at least as far as I
could tell, but sewn in once-golden thread were strange linear <span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">hiero</span>glyphics. It was pierced in the inner
brim for a hat-securer, but the elastic was missing. For the rest, it was
exceedingly dusty, and spotted in several places, although there seemed to have
been some attempt to hide the discolored patches by daubing them with red ink.</span></p>

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">"I can see nothing," said I, handing it back to my
friend. </span></p>

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">"On the contrary, Watson; how many fingers am I holding
up?”</span></p>

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“Three.”</span></p>

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“Your eyesight is fine. You fail, however, to apply reason
from what you see."</span></p>

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">"Then pray, tell me,” I replied with some asperity, “what it
is that you can infer from this hat?"</span></p>

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">He gazed at it in the peculiar introspective fashion which was characteristic of him when he took on the air of a disappointed tutor
lecturing a particularly dense pupil. "It is perhaps less suggestive than
it might have been," remarked Holmes, "and yet there are a few
inferences which represent at least a strong balance of probability. That the
man was highly intellectual is of course obvious upon the face of it, and also
that he was fairly well-to-do, although he has now fallen upon evil days. He
had foresight, but has less now than formerly, pointing to a moral
retrogression, which, when taken with the decline of his fortunes, seems to
indicate some evil influence, probably elves, at work upon him.”</span></p>

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“Elves!”</span></p>

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“This may account also for the obvious fact that his wife has
ceased to love him,” he continued, disregarding my remonstrance. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“He has, however, retained some degree of
self-respect. He is a man who leads a sedentary life, goes out little, perhaps
just once a year, is middle-aged, has grizzled hair which he has had cut within
the last few days, and which he anoints with rather expensive avocado-cream.
These are the more patent facts which are to be deduced from his blushing
bucket. Also, by the way, that it is extremely improbable that he has gas laid
on in his house, no doubt because he lives on an isolated farm raising reindeer."</span></p>

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“Surely, you’re joking!”</span></p>

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“You know I detest that nickname. I don’t even allow my brother
Mycroft to call me that.”</span></p>

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“No, no; I meant you are certainly not serious.”</span></p>

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“Ah. I’m quite serious, my dear fellow.”<br />
<br />
"How did you deduce that this man was intellectual?"<br />
<br />
For an answer, Holmes slipped the linty lid upon his head. The fur brim passed over
the forehead and settled upon the bridge of his nose. "It is a question of
cubic capacity," said he; "a man with so large a brain must have
something in it."<br />
<br />
"The decline of his fortunes, then?"<br />
<br />
"This hat is old. These type of plush fur-lined hats have long been out of
fashion. It is a hat of the very best quality. Look at the fur, and the
excellent lining. If this man could afford to buy so expensive a hat. and has
had no hat since, then he has assuredly gone down in the world."<br />
<br />
"Well, that is clear enough, certainly. But how about the foresight, and
the moral retrogression?"<br />
<br />
"Here is the foresight." said he, putting his finger upon the little
disc and loop of the hat-securer. "They are never solid upon hats. If this
man ordered one, it is a sign of a certain amount of foresight, since he went
out of his way to take this precaution against the wind. But since we see that
he has broken the elastic, and has not troubled to replace it, it is obvious
that he has less foresight now than formerly, which is a distinct proof of a
weakening nature. On the other hand, he has endeavored to conceal some of these
stains upon the plush by daubing them with red ink, which is a sign that he has
not entirely lost his self-respect. The further points, that he is middle-aged,
that his hair is grizzled, that it has been recently cut, and that he uses avocado-cream,
are all to be gathered from a close examination of the lower part of the
lining. The lens discloses a large number of hair-ends, clean cut by the
scissors of the barber. They all appear to be adhesive, and there is a distinct
odor of avocado-cream, which is rare in this part of the world and speaks of a
wanton self-indulgence and further evidence of moral regression. This dust, you
will observe, is not the gritty, gray dust of the street nor the dirt of the
country, but the fluffy brown dust of the house, showing that it has been hung
up indoors most of the time; while the marks of moisture upon the inside are
proof positive that the wearer perspired very freely, and could, therefore,
hardly be in the best of training."<br />
<br />
"But his wife - you said that she had ceased to love him."<br />
<br />
"This hat has not been brushed for months, perhaps a whole year. When I
see you, my dear Watson, with a year's accumulation of dust upon your hat, and
when your wife allows you to go out in such a state, I shall fear that you also
have been unfortunate enough to lose your wife's affection, if not your wife
herself." <br />
<br />
"You have an answer to everything. But how on earth do you deduce that the
gas is not laid on in the house?"<br />
<br />
"One tallow stain, or even two, might come by chance; but, when I see no
less than five, I think that there can be little doubt that the individual must
be brought into frequent contact with burning tallow - walks upstairs at night
probably with his topper in one hand and a guttering candle in the other.
Anyhow, he never got tallow stains from a gas jet."</span></p>

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“But elves?”</span></p>

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“I am familiar with over thirty types of European writing
systems. These markings sewn into the lining are Tomte runes, peculiar to an
especially short Scandinavian race locals refer to as ‘elves’. Our friend the
hat owner is not a Tomte himself as seen by the hat size but must have a deep
association with them to adapt their writing. They are a happy but
short-tempered race, given to much mischief. Loyal if treated well, but
pranksters and thieves if crossed. Long association with them could again lead
to moral retrogression.”</span></p>

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“And the reindeer farming?”</span></p>

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“There are several indications. One: this type of hat is
still fashionable in northern climes. Two: the white fun, unless I am very much
mistaken, is polar bear, again an indication the wear resides up north. Three:
the Tomte live in Scandinavia and nowhere else. Four: there are reindeer hair
on the outside of the hat. As the author of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">A
Study of Ungulates and Ruminants and Their Association with Criminal Actives,
Illustrated with Forty Color Plates</i> I was able to identify the fur quite
easily. It seems then highly probable our mysterious friend is a reindeer
farmer.”</span></p>

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Footsteps sounded on the stair and after a knock on the door
Peterson the commissionaire entered. He greeted us cordially and at Holmes’
urging began his tale.</span></p>

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“I had an important commission this evening, but because it
was Christmas Eve, the cabbie decided not to wait for me. The streets were
fairly deserted and there was not another cab to be found so I started to walk
back home while keeping my eyes peeled for transportation. I was walking down
Bartholomew Lane---“</span></p>

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Holmes sat up straight on the sofa. “You were in the City?” </span></p>

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“Yes sir. Quiet as a tomb.”</span></p>

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“Well, it was dusk and not a soul to be seen. I reached the corner
when I suddenly heard the jingling of bells and out of the sky dropped this funny
hat, right at my feet. It’s not quite a bobble or a toque and it had this queer
sort of writing inside and I thought that if anyone could make sense of this
happening and maybe return the hat to its owner, it’s Mr. Holmes.”</span></p>

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“What else did you find, Peterson?”</span></p>

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">The commissionaire’s cheeks flushed. We knew Peterson to be
an honest man and his reaction was one of embarrassment, not guilt. “We-ell,”
he stammered, “after I picked up the hat and looked at it and took a step onto
the way of going home, this piece of paper fluttered out of the sky right into
my hand. I thought it was…a reward – in advance, like, for getting the hat back
to its owner…’</span></p>

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“A reward?”</span></p>

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“You know, for doing a good deed…from…” Here Peterson looked
up at the ceiling. He reached into his pocket and then held out his hand. There in
his palm was a clean, crisp five-pound note. Holmes took up his lens and the
note and examined it under the lamp and even held it under his nose briefly.
When he turned back to us his manner was still <span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">phle</span>gmatic but there was a most singular intentness in his eyes
that told me he had chanced upon some clue of importance. Holmes went over to
his desk. “I propose an exchange, Peterson, this fiver for yours. It’s not
quite as new, but it will spend the same and I guarantee it has the same amount
of luck as yours.”</span></p>

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Peterson took the note with some reluctance. Holmes turned
back to his desk and scribbled out a message, handing it to the commissionaire
along with some coins. “Please go to the telegraph office and send this before
you go home. And,” he said placing a hand on the man’s shoulder, “I can assure
you this felt-and-fur Phrygian will find its home ere long.”</span></p>

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">As soon as the door close, Holmes tore off his dressing gown
and headed to the wardrobe in his room, all the while speaking. “What a blind
beetle I’ve been! You remember that pretty little problem of Helen Stoner’s at
Stoke Moran? At first all the clues pointed to the gypsies but once on the scene it
became obvious it was that group of plasterers hired by her nefarious
step-father.” Readers of these somewhat incoherent series of memoirs will
recall “The Adventure of the Spackled Band”. “Well, my deductions about that hirsute
headgear were perfectly reasonable, logical and entirely wrong, all because I
lacked two facts.”</span></p>

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“The five-pound note?”</span></p>

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“And the location.”</span></p>

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“Bartholomew Lane?”</span></p>

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“The corner of Bartholomew Lane and Threadneedle Street.”</span></p>

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">A dark and sinister notion started forming in my mind. Holmes
came out of his room and tossed me a pistol while checking to see that his was
loaded. “Be a good fellow and hail us cab, eh, Watson?”</span></p>

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">The horse’s hooves beat out a swift tattoo as our hansom
headed to the City. “I believe you suspect Peterson’s fiver was a forgery.”</span></p>

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“You positively scintillate tonight, Watson.”</span></p>

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“So the hat is part of a disguise.”</span></p>

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“For over one hundred and thirty years Jules-Thomas and Sons
has been operating out of the same building in the West End providing costumes
and property for theater companies and acting troupes. Like many immigrants to
our shores, they anglicized their name from the original Scandinavian Jultomten.”</span></p>

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“Jultomten<span style="font-size: medium; mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 17.12px; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">—</span></span>Tomte?”</span></p>

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“Exactly so, Watson. The Jules-Thomases are descended from that
Scandinavian race locally known as elves and even today their scion are
exceedingly short people. Early in the company’s history, the family name was
sewn into their costumes</span><span style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 17.12px; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">—</span></span><span style="font-size: 16px;">”</span></span></p>

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“I</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">n Tomte runes.”</span></span></p>

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“Watson, your eyesight improves by the moment! We can now
look at our muffed mantle in a new light. It was manufactured well over a
century ago of the best materials and meant to be durable. It was designed to
fit all heads so was made on the larger side, so it could accommodate wigs.
There is also the well-known factor of actors possessing larger crania than the
general population. To save costs, it is repaired frequently, such as the
touch-ups of red ink. As there is usually strenuous action on stage during the
course of a production, that would account for the hat-securer and the sweat
stains. As there is not much call for this type of hat except during the
holiday season, there would naturally be a many-months accumulation of dust in
the storage area located in the oldest part of the building where gas has yet
to be laid. The dust tells us one other thing; professionals like Jules-Thomas
would not allow a costume to go out in such a condition. Therefore, it must
have been stolen.”</span></p>

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“The freshly-cut grizzled hair then must belong to the
thief.”</span></p>

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“Bravo, Watson! I see that marriage has not staled your
infinite variety.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">  </span>Cabbie, stop here.” We
were let off at Cheapside and Queen Victoria Street and, being as inconspicuous
as possible on the deserted streets, made our way to the “Grey Lady of
Threadneedle Street”. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Bank of
England, the financial heart of the Empire stood dark, silent and imposing in
the light of the gibbous moon. The air was still and our breath shot out in
front of us like smoke from a pistol shot. We made our way along the bank’s
façade on Princes Street where Holmes found a rope ladder almost invisible in
the shadows. We climbed to the first level roof and surveyed the five story
wall that stretched above our heads to the top of the building. Here the
cunningness of the rope-ladder’s design was made clear as even in the bright
moonlight it was practically invisible to the eye and from the street below
would be non-existent.</span></p>

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">With Holmes in the lead we ascended the wall in the bracing
winter night air, up past the sloping shingles of the top floor to the narrow,
relatively flat roof.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">  </span>There, not far
from us, silhouetted against the sky were a group of two-legged reindeer
gathered around a skylight. They spoke in whispers with their backs to us,
antlers bobbing in the cold. Nearby appeared to be a large sledge piled high
with packages. Holmes took out his revolver and I followed suit. We crept to
within a few feet of the costumed men then Holmes stood and in a quiet voice
said, “Gentlemen, do not move.”</span></p>

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">His voice rang out like cannon fire in the hushed darkness,
seemingly turning the men to statues. Holmes edged closer to the skylight. “My
friend here is known as the Deadly Doctor, so pray, be still,” he said <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">sotto voce</i> as he peered down in the
stygian depths.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">  </span>I took pride in Holmes’
complement of my marksmanship until the sniggering of one of the men reminded
me of its possible double meaning. The cocking of my hammer shut him up.</span></p>

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Presently, a shuffling sound emanated from within the
building and up rose from the black hole a head of long white hair, then a face
surrounded by a full white beard. One red-mittened hand held the rope ladder
attached to the skylight, the other a bag slung over a shoulder. Holmes clapped
his gun to the man’s head. “Up and out slowly, if you please. That’s good. Now
place the sack down. Right. Watson, you’ve heard me speak of this gentleman,
but I don’t believe you’ve had the pleasure of meeting him. Doctor John Watson,
Professor James Moriarty.” Holmes had pocketed his gun, grabbed the hair in one
hand and the beard in the other and yanked away. There stood the former
mathematics professor, his bald pate fringed with grizzled hair gleamed in the
moonlight, his sunken eyes glaring with malevolence at the detective. “A
masterful performance, Professor, although your costume is sadly incomplete.”</span></p>

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Comprehension broke on his features as the whole chain of
events that led to his capture became clear. “The hat! If it wasn’t for that
damned freak gust of wind--- “ Those were his first and last words of the
evening as he clamped his mouth shut and refused to speak further.</span></p>

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Then from out in the street there arose such a clatter.
“Watson,” said Holmes, his gun now back out and trained on Moriarty, “take that
gentleman there” (he indicated one of the reindeer who would appear to be most
at home at Newgate) “over to the ledge and have him report what he sees.”</span></p>

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I motioned the brute over and he peered down. “There’s a
great lot of Black Marias, a fire brigade and a whole lot of coppers.” I
motioned the man back to his herd.</span></p>

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“That will be Inspector Bradstreet, the Yard, the City Police
and the ladder engine. I am afraid your brilliant plan of stealing the actual
five-pound note plates” (here he tapped the sack with his foot) “and
substituting counterfeit plates to cause the financial collapse of the Empire
is for naught, Professor.” City and Metropolitan Police swarmed to the roof and
soon the two professional law groups were fighting over who would make the
arrest and who would claim credit in the papers. Eventually, the criminals were
led away and the lawmen cleared the roof leaving Holmes and I alone at the scene.</span></p>

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Holmes examined the “sledge”, which was a balsa cutout
ingeniously constructed to fold into a small, portable square for easy
transport, yet from the street or the window of a neighboring building would
appear to be substantial. </span></p>

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“There is always a touch of the extravagant to Moriarty’s
schemes. To create a tableau of Father Christmas visiting the Bank of England
just to discredit any possible witnesses…” He shook his head. “Hum. I wonder…”</span></p>

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“What is it, Holmes?”</span></p>

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“Peterson said he heard bells, then the cherry chapeau landed
at his feet, yet neither Moriarty nor his ‘reindeer’ were wearing bells, and
this cutout certainly doesn’t have any. Where did the sound come from?”</span></p>

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Then above the distant sound of London there was the faint
jingling of bells, which grew louder, then a voice from above said, “Good
night, Mister Sherlock Holmes. Ho, ho, ho.” We both turned skywards and there
across the waxing moon appeared four pairs of reindeer drawing a sledge driven
by a rotund bearded jolly man who waved at us. As we watched, the apparition
turned to the north and rapidly disappeared clean out of sight.</span></p>

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I do not know how long we stood there transfixed but finally
I whispered my companion’s name. That broke the spell. Holmes snapped, “Watson,
you know my maxim that when you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no
matter how improbable, must be the truth. As it is impossible for reindeer to
fly, the only vehicle able to lift such a sledge is a hot-air balloon,
which was not in evidence, and further, a hot-air balloon could not achieve such
speeds as witnessed, there can be only one probability for our <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">folie
à deux</span></i><span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">; Mrs. Hudson spiked
our eggnog with absinthe!</span></span></p>

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">“However, as this is the season of
forgiveness, we shall not reprimand her, or mention it to her, or,” he turned
to me and spoke in a steely voice, “mention this incident to anyone, ever!”</span></p>

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">Holmes strode the roof edge and the
rope ladder, then stopped and stared thoughtfully at that spot in the northern
sky where the apparition vanished and where now faintly glowed a star.</span></p>

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">“You know, Watson,” he spoke slowly
as a clock chimed midnight, “I am not one to celebrate holidays, but if I were
to wish for a present, I can think of no better one than to be with my old
comrade-in-arms, back in action and on the thrill of the chase, putting the
most dangerous criminal in London behind bars. Complements of the season.” He
stuck out his hand.</span></p>

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">“Complements of the season,
Holmes.”</span></p>

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">We clasped hands and shook.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arno Pro",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Arno Pro",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUDO_41etLUQ920R1cEW7cb2_T96TvRBBRxG7wsywIAqBY7XL3FMuOXsOeEef944jCVqicHfcmE0wO8qE7yz1fEtgQe_7UtlrPMpR6do4ZQCpIWWRMMZ6vvsLalq949EESY-eQV682NWlVc886HFcYTw_YDRu-1jNomedV-wl0sgh3-cPr38IUvR0ib16D/s1396/gahan%2002.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1372" data-original-width="1396" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUDO_41etLUQ920R1cEW7cb2_T96TvRBBRxG7wsywIAqBY7XL3FMuOXsOeEef944jCVqicHfcmE0wO8qE7yz1fEtgQe_7UtlrPMpR6do4ZQCpIWWRMMZ6vvsLalq949EESY-eQV682NWlVc886HFcYTw_YDRu-1jNomedV-wl0sgh3-cPr38IUvR0ib16D/w405-h398/gahan%2002.jpg" width="405" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: "Arno Pro",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><br /> </span><p class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">For inspiration, I’d like to thank John Foster of the Sherlock Holmes Society of St. Charles and
Gahan Wilson. —JCO’L</span><span style="font-family: Arno Pro, serif;"><b></b></span></span></i></p>

</div>

The Adventure of the Fur-Trimmed Hat

"all tell the same story of this dreadful apparition" [HOUN] [ Editor's note: the following is a parody for the holiday s...

+ Read more »

by James C. O'Leary

The Bull Pup: Canine, Gun, or Something Else?

<div class="separator"><h4 style="text-align: center;">"It's a dog," said I. [CROO]</h4></div><div class="separator" style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJz_LalD4gQDhxDEWNMciCrKcZWYASt4IAtbnckmROC6ejzzNOxhRKmMQ5_WqtIjf1zuzrf6kdgGPdX76gX9uW7JsNHC11MrIu7uQFKk4hqt1mdbloSKh1O0O5BhojV6hZHPNkWfY04HfDBsjm6ib1vadS6kjzgRLs27MHmwpx7rf7cQXZ-Nl403FY3g/s1200/Bulldog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJz_LalD4gQDhxDEWNMciCrKcZWYASt4IAtbnckmROC6ejzzNOxhRKmMQ5_WqtIjf1zuzrf6kdgGPdX76gX9uW7JsNHC11MrIu7uQFKk4hqt1mdbloSKh1O0O5BhojV6hZHPNkWfY04HfDBsjm6ib1vadS6kjzgRLs27MHmwpx7rf7cQXZ-Nl403FY3g/w640-h640/Bulldog.jpg" width="640" /></a></div></div> <div>While the dog that did nothing in the night-time may be more famous to the world-at-large, being cited in essays, court opinions and as the title of an award-winning play, Watson’s mysterious bull pup may have the edge to fame within the Sherlockian world. <br /><br />When Holmes and Watson decide to be roommates at the beginning of <i>A Study in Scarlet</i>, Holmes lists his shortcoming and asks the doctor to do the same: <blockquote><div>“I keep a bull pup,” I said, “and I object to rows because my nerves are shaken, and I get up at all sorts of ungodly hours, and I am extremely lazy. I have another set of vices when I'm well, but those are the principal ones at present.” </div></blockquote><div><br /></div><div>As the bull pup does not physically appear in STUD or any of the subsequent adventures, many have assumed it was only a metaphor. <br /><br /><a href="https://www.ihearofsherlock.com/2011/08/this-wood-cycle-must-have-emerged-prio_9.html">Peter H. Wood’s</a> article in the Spring 2014 issue of <a href="https://www.torontobootmakers.com/canadian-holmes/"><i>Canadian Holmes</i></a>, “I Keep a Bull Pup…,” is one of the most comprehensive looks at the issue with the division of the arguments falling into two camps which Wood calls the <b>Literalist school </b>(the bull pup is a dog Watson owned or intended to own) and the <b>Metaphorical school</b> (the bull pup is a gun or a bad temper). </div><div><br /></div><div>Wood concludes that he can’t come to a conclusion to which camp has the most compelling evidence to be likely correct; he finds the evidence wanting in both cases. <br /><br />I have taken my own look at the bull pup question and I, too, will look at the Literal and Metaphorical schools but I will begin at a school that Wood did not look at: the Doylean. <br /><br /><h3 style="text-align: left;">The Doylean School </h3><br />The Doylean School, by necessity, looks at the matter outside the Grand Game. When Arthur Conan Doyle refers to a bull pup in his fiction he is always referring to a canine, whether an actual, physical dog, as in the short stories: <br /><br /><b>“The Winning Shot”</b> (1883): </div><blockquote><div>"Eh, Jock; see to mun's moo', rayther! — Blessed if he bean't foamin' like Farmer Watson's dog — t' bull pup whot died mad o' the hydropathics."</div></blockquote><div><br /></div><div><b>“A Straggler of '15”</b> (1891): </div><blockquote><div>He's got a bull pup o' mine that I gave him when I took the bounty.</div></blockquote><div><br /></div><div>Or the novel <b><i>Beyond the City</i></b> (1891): </div><div><blockquote>"Finally, when the cabman, all top-heavy and bristling, had staggered off up the garden path, there emerged in a very leisurely way from the cab a big, powerfully built young man, with a bull pup under one arm and a pink sporting paper in his hand. <br /><br />"The bull pup which they had seen upon the day before bolted from its hiding-place, and scuttled snarling from the room. <br /><br />She came to the door with them, and as they glanced back they saw her still standing there with the yellow bull pup cuddled up under one forearm, and the thin blue reek of her cigarette ascending from her lips."</blockquote><br /><br /></div><div>Or the play co-written with J. M. Barrie: <b><i>Jane Annie; or, the Good Conduct Prize</i></b> (1893): </div><div><blockquote>“And the man has come with the bull-pups.” <br /><br />“The band got five shillings between them from Missus to go away, but she had to pay extra for not taking the bull-pups.” </blockquote><br /><br /></div><div>Or a canine in metaphor or simile as in the novels: <br /><br /><b><i>Micah Clarke</i></b> (1889): </div><div></div><blockquote><div>“Let us see what sort of sport the bull-pups make in the baiting of him!”</div><div><br />“In particular, friend Foster pinked the King in such wise that his Majesty ran howling down the street like a gored bull-pup.”</div></blockquote><div></div><div><br /></div><div><b><i>The Great Shadow</i></b> (1892): </div><blockquote><div>"Maybe, if we could have seen seventy mothers weeping for their lads, we should not have felt so pleased over it; but then, men are just brutes when they are fighting, and have as much thought as two bull pups when they've got one another by the throttle."</div></blockquote><div><br /><br />So when Doyle wrote Watson saying he had a bull pup, we can be sure he was referring to a canine. </div><div><br /></div><div>The same can be said for references to <b>bulldogs </b>and <b>bull terriers</b>, they were either actual canines, similes or metaphors: </div><div><br /></div><blockquote><div>"There is Buller, the famous Cambridge quarter, only ten stone in weight, but as lithe and slippery as an eel; and Jackson, the other quarter, is just such another — hard to tackle himself, but as tenacious as a bulldog in holding an adversary." (<b><i>The Firm of Girdlestone</i></b>, 1889)</div></blockquote><div><br /></div><div>And those who have the physical characteristic of the animal:</div><blockquote><div>"And there rides Ney with his red head, and Lefebvre with his bulldog jaw… (“How the Brigadier Came to the Castle of Gloom,” 1895). </div></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;">So what, then, became of Watson’s dog? As the manuscript to A Study in Scarlet is apparently not extant, we cannot interrogate it as to Doyle’s intent. We cannot see if there are further passages or mentions of the bull pup that have been excised, either by author or publisher."</div><div><br /></div><div><br />Martin Booth, in his biography of Doyle, <i><a href="https://amzn.to/3KIYHRX" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">The Doctor and The Detective</a></i>, remarked of the author’s writing of the Holmes tales:<br /><blockquote>"Good though the stories are, they do contain a lot of slapdash writing….This careless attitude towards the stories came about because Conan Doyle regarded them as little more than light fiction, good little money-earners. The effort of painstaking research that he applied to his historical novels, was, he felt, wasted here…" (p 155) <br /><br />"One of the inconsistences in the stories, which has resulted in a bizarrely amusing consequence, concerns Watson’s dog, which was a bull pup, either a bulldog or a bull terrier. It appears in A Study in Scarlet but is never mentioned again….The truth of the matter is that Conan Doyle simply forgot the creature, but this has not prevented bizarre interpretations as to the fate of the temporary canine." (pp 156-7) </blockquote><br />  <br /><br /><h3 style="text-align: left;">Canonical Viewpoint </h3>I’ll now enter the Game and open with the relevant entry from S. Tupper Bigelow’s <i>An Irregular Anglo-American Glossary of More or Less Unfamiliar Words, Terms and Phrases in the Sherlock Holmes Saga</i>. <br /><br /></div><blockquote><div>[keep a] bull-pup: Watson lists this as one of his shortcomings as a potential flatmate. The meaning of the phrase has bedevilled Sherlockians for decades, with opinions divided into three schools: <br /><br />*young bulldog[.] Objection; there is no further evidence of such a dog in the Canon. <br /><br />*a short thick pistol or revolver. Objection: the first firearm called by this name was not manufactured until 1937. (<i>New Official Gun Book</i>, ed. Charles R. Jacobs, c. 1951) <br /><br />*Anglo-Indian or army slang for “have a bad temper.” Objection: no non-Sherlockian lexicographic source, contemporary or otherwise, has been found for this definition. The most authoritative source is this contention by Jacques Barzun, a celebrated man of letters, in his 1975 book, <i>Simple & Direct: A Rhetoric for Writers</i>:</div></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote><div style="text-align: left;">“The curious fact about that the dog is that he is never heard of again---and no wonder, for ‘keep a bull pup’ in the 1880s was army slang for ‘have a bad temper.’ The author probably put the phrase in the army doctor’s mouth for vivid local color.” </div></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote><div><br />In correspondence, Mr. Barzun commented that the interpretation was supplied probably in the 1930s by a retired English army Captain, Humphry Fry, an admirer of Sherlock Holmes who was an English master at St. Bernard’s School in New York. Mr. Barzun said he and the Captain “often exchanged views about details in the stories. I must have asked him why Watson’s dog never appeared at 221B Baker Street.” </div></blockquote><div><br /><br />Jack Tracy opted for the [same] definition in his 1977 <i>Encyclopedia Sherlockiana</i> but later wrote to an inquirer that his sources were “oral history and tradition.” <br /><br />  <br /><br /><h2 style="text-align: left;">The Metaphorical School </h2>The two major classes of the Metaphorical school: One that a bull pup is a revolver or firearm of some kind and two it is slang for a bad temper. As Bigelow’s entry under the bull pup heading points out there is scant evidence for either. <br /><br /><h3 style="text-align: left;">Bull pup as slang </h3>Jack Tracy in <i>Encyclopedia Sherlockiana</i>, aside from a never-appearing dog, lists “To keep a bull pup, in Anglo- Indian slang, means to have fits of quick temper.” To quote Wood from his article:</div><div><blockquote>"In the bibliography he cites as one of his authorities, Sir Henry Yule’s “Hobson—Jobson,” an encyclopedia of Anglo-Indian slang, first published in 1903. As Sir Henry died in 1889, the compilation presumably covers Watson’s time in the great subcontinent. There is no citation in this work for “Bull-pup,” “bull (pup)” “Keep a bull-pup,” or any similar expression save for “keep a pig” alluded to above [The only “keep” phrase of any relevance seems to be “keep a pig,” which was Victorian slang for owning two rooms and subletting one to a friend, who used the room for his or her own purposes.], when challenged as to his source for the expression by Thomas D. Puller, Tracy replied: “... I have no scholarly or academic sources which may be formally cited for the Sherlockiana entry on ‘bull pup.’ My sources are informal (the <i>Times</i> allusions mentioned in the <i>Annotated </i>and the <i>ESJ </i>[sic] letters columns) and oral (the same world travellers you have probably been talking to yourself). I settled on the ‘temper’ definition because (1) the oral/informal references are so diverse in origin and so consistent in meaning and (2) it is the only explanation which makes sense in context."</blockquote><br />Wood did a search of six slang dictionaries and found no entries defining bull pup as slang for temper. When one does a Google search today for bull pup as slang one cannot find an independent listing, Anglo-Indian or otherwise, as “having a temper,” only those that list the Sherlockian contention of Watson’s bull pup being so. The closest we come to it being British military slang is “bull--High polish on Parade Boots.” (Source: <a href="https://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/Appendix:Glossary_of_British_military_slang_and_expressions#B" target="_blank">Glossary of British Military Slang and Expressions</a>; this article originally appeared in the October 2021 issue of <i>The Passengers' Log</i>, the magazine of the<a href="http://www.sherlock.on.net/index.html"> </a><a href="http://www.sherlock.on.net/index.html">Sydney Passengers.</a>)<br /><br /><h3 style="text-align: left;">Bull pup as a firearm </h3>In the world of firearms there is a type of weapon called a bullpup—one word as opposed to two words. It is a weapon, originally referring to a long gun, having its action (the mechanism that loads, locks, fires, extracts and ejects the ammunition) behind the trigger, creating a shorter weapon compared to rifles with the same size gun barrel. </div><div><br /></div><div>The first such weapon was the British-made Thorneycroft carbine (no relation to Dr. Thorneycroft Huxtable, M.A., Ph.D., etc.) manufactured in 1901. The term bullpup for this type of weapon did not come into general use until the 1930s.  A bullpup machine pistol wasn’t patented until 1936. </div><div><br /></div><div>Thus, while Watson could have come back from Afghanistan with a rifle, it could not have been a bullpup nor would it have been called by that name.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMIDl3XUbVSpromiZUQeS-JmdHp6Ta8uiFf5M5UxItz2urFvKY0CjPj5k-7_YyjqqG9wCHSjnfRY-FJzy2Bm377XjgqzBh0cMHwUeB8NnnSJBt9U9pNQ0iqtzek4XUaSBYsp2OM2huhw4JR8l5VOygDVWWGUoZFSGV416zojiR4a1pFASdEeineYtt_w/s1024/Webly%20No.%202.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="702" data-original-width="1024" height="438" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMIDl3XUbVSpromiZUQeS-JmdHp6Ta8uiFf5M5UxItz2urFvKY0CjPj5k-7_YyjqqG9wCHSjnfRY-FJzy2Bm377XjgqzBh0cMHwUeB8NnnSJBt9U9pNQ0iqtzek4XUaSBYsp2OM2huhw4JR8l5VOygDVWWGUoZFSGV416zojiR4a1pFASdEeineYtt_w/w640-h438/Webly%20No.%202.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">A Webley No. 2 .450 Centerfire</span></i></td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: left;"></div> <br /><br />In 1872, British gun maker Webley produced the British Bulldog. It was a weapon that filled a need. </div><div><br /></div><div>It had a short 2 ½ barrel and fired large caliber .442 Webley or .450 Adams cartridges. “Upon its introduction in the early 1870s, Webley’s new British Bulldog had become an immediate sensation in Victorian England since the carrying of carrying firearms in Great Britain was accomplished quite discreetly. </div><div><br /></div><div>Thus the pocketsized, highly concealable Bulldog fit right into the period of Sherlock Holmes and Jack the Ripper,” said <a href="https://gundigest.com/wp-content/uploads/6ShooterSpecialFinal.pdf">George J. Layman in “When Bulldogs Ruled” (<i>Gun Digest</i> 2010)</a>.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5mUooPTqFX98z2os355fs6KicwHEkRfP0sJvC2bjlwOS5IJWNA-d6pItIvNfCD_iZNs-77XnlnSE712xTMK-WArA4ZFPvPqrah01cCJOkGzJEpUT2gkgM3-WJ91r3xtmitammhcgsUrk6ot1EEp0t-E-KqOfRqL8YH28ZMiRsz4OFjT0dbkqwxd8YZw/s1024/British%20Bulldog.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="1024" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5mUooPTqFX98z2os355fs6KicwHEkRfP0sJvC2bjlwOS5IJWNA-d6pItIvNfCD_iZNs-77XnlnSE712xTMK-WArA4ZFPvPqrah01cCJOkGzJEpUT2gkgM3-WJ91r3xtmitammhcgsUrk6ot1EEp0t-E-KqOfRqL8YH28ZMiRsz4OFjT0dbkqwxd8YZw/w640-h480/British%20Bulldog.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">The topstrap carried the legend "THE BRITISH BULL DOG"</span></i></td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>It is quite obvious that the British Bulldog became a legend in its own time. By 1876, several European and American imitators jumped on the Bulldog bandwagon, marketing copies of self-cockers marked “British Bull Dog” over the topstrap. </div><div><br /></div><div>Many of the European Webley copies came from Belgium and their overall finish and quality was noticeably inferior to the genuine British-made variations. Quite a number of these – both domestic [US] and foreign – were stamped with such markings as “Western Bull Dog,” “British Lion,” “Boston Bulldog,” etc., and, not surprisingly, many were indeed well made.<br /><br /><br />The name Bulldog became a powerful marketing tool to denote any big-bore, short-barreled revolver. Layman wrote: </div><blockquote><div>“Generally speaking, it should be noted that the term ‘bulldog’ supposedly refers specifically to a small pocket revolver of large caliber---but the general design was so popular that smaller calibers of 32 and 38 were also marketed as Bulldogs.” </div></blockquote><div><br /></div><div>Webley later produced a .320 revolver with a .380 variant but did not market them as Bulldogs. Nor, apparently, did they call them “bullpups.” The 19th century reputation for the breed’s tenacity, combativeness and pugnacity was the perfect marketing for a small weapon whose bite was worse than its bark. </div><div><br /></div><div>If Watson owned a pocket gun and called it by the cutesy moniker of “bull pup,” it was a private nickname with which he didn’t enlighten the reader, or Holmes, about.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /><h2 style="text-align: left;">The Literalist School </h2>Between attending Netley, shipping to India, being attached to the Berkshires at Kandahar, wounded in the battle of Maiwand, convalescing from a wound and enteric fever, shipping back to England, and spending a comfortless, meaningless existence in London, the question arises when did Watson acquire, or could afford, a bull pup? </div><div><br /></div><div>As Owen Dudley Edwards puts it in his footnote on the dog in the Oxford Edition of  <i>A Study in Scarlet</i>,</div><blockquote><div>“Sherlockians have expended much ink in the quest of a domestic pet impossible in Afghanistan, illegal on the <i>Orontes</i>, inappropriate for a private hotel, and invisible in Baker Street.”</div></blockquote><div><br /></div><div>In “<a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20170424184541/http://maiwandjournal.victorianwars.com/its_a_dogs_life_in_the_army.htm" target="_blank">It’s a Dog’s Life in the Army</a>,” Richard J. Stacpoole-Ryding wrote:</div><blockquote><div>“It was common practice for officers and other ranks in the Victorian army to take their dogs, and other pets, along with them wherever they went---including the battlefield. The officers and men of the 66th (Berkshire) Regiment were no exception…”</div></blockquote><div> <br />Stacpoole-Ryding, in his book <i><a href="https://amzn.to/3KGxNdD" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Maiwand</a></i>, mentions: </div><blockquote><div>“Lieutenant Richard Trevor Chute kept a dog, which landed him in trouble in the Officers’ Mess. In 1880, when the regiment was at Kandahar, Captain John Quarry…acquired a newly born bull terrier and he called it Billy. Billy was given to Sergeant 1485 William Guntrip, who Quarry held in high esteem. Guntrip was later killed at Maiwand and Billy went back to live with Quarry.”</div></blockquote><div>  <br /><br />There are two other dogs known to be with the 66th who have gone on to gather some fame. </div><div><br /></div><div>Captain William Hamilton McMath “kept a small fox-terrier dog named Nellie. Master and dog were devoted to each other and could not be separated, not even on the battlefield.”<a href="http://www.roll-of-honour.com/Berkshire/ReadingAfghanCampaign.html"> The memorial to the 66th (Berkshire) Regiment at Forbury Gardens, Reading, Berkshire</a>, known as the “Maiwand Lion,” was unveiled in December 1886 and says this about McMath: </div><blockquote><div>“It is moving to record that Captain McMath's little dog ‘Nellie’—a pet of the Regiment—which had followed her master into action, was subsequently found by the burying party lying dead at his side.” </div></blockquote><div><br /></div><div>Master and pet were buried together.</div><div>  <br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">The most famous canine at Maiwand was Bobbie, most likely owned by Corporal 1386 Peter Kelly. To quote Stacpoole-Ryding from “It’s a Dog’s Life in the Army”:</div><blockquote><div>"There is a regimental legend that Bobbie was present at the famous stand of the last eleven at Khig. It is unknown if Corporal Kelly was present at the last stand preceding this event and escaped before the last eleven gallantly remained so their colleagues could make good their escape, leaving or being separated from Bobbie in the chaos. Corporal Kelly is recorded in the medal roll as being wounded in hospital at Kandahar on 1 September 1880 and therefore can be reasonably assumed to have been wounded at Maiwand and was recovering from his wounds. So, was Bobbie at the final stand or not? There is no evidence to support this either way; if he was then Bobbie must have been the only British witness of the famous stand. Some contemporary paintings of the ‘Last Stand’ show Bobbie being present, and in keeping with the regiment’s legend.</div><div><br />"What is known of Bobbie is that he got separated from his owner and the Berkshires at Maiwand and found himself among the Afghan infantry on the battlefield. He was wounded and managed to catch up with the retiring column making their way towards Kandahar and reunited with his master. The story states that his master was wounded; again there is no evidence to support this unless one takes the entry in the medal roll to mean that Corporal Kelly was wounded at Maiwand and was in hospital because of the wound. <br /><br />"Bobbie returned with his owner and the regiment to England on H.M. Troopship <i>Malabar </i>docking at Portsmouth in February 1881. The regiment was stationed at Parkhurst on the Isle of Wight. On 17 August 1881 the men of the regiment who had been awarded the Distinguished Conduct Medal were presented to Queen Victoria and Bobbie went along to have an audience with the Queen at Osborne House.</div></blockquote><div></div><div>  <br /><br />Bobbie was not, as sometimes stated, awarded a medal by the Queen as the Afghan 1878-1880 metal was not presented to the 66th until 1883 and by then the little white dog was deceased. </div><div><br /></div><blockquote><div>“[Bobbie] became a well-known figure around the barracks. However, in 1882 Bobbie was accidently run over by a hansom cab that was carrying a wedding party in Gosport whilst accompanying the 66th on a route march. It was reported that a soldier of the regiment tried to club the cab driver with his rifle butt, but was stopped by the commanding officer who happened to be present.”</div></blockquote><div><br /></div><div>So beloved was the dog the regiment had him preserved and he still can be seen today at The Rifles (Berkshire and Wiltshire) Museum. <br /><br /> As shown, dogs were not “impossible in Afghanistan” nor illegal on troopships. As Wood points out:</div><div><blockquote>"Could he [Watson] have kept a pet dog in a private hotel in the Strand? The likelihood of a hotel guest having a pet dog to share, and possibly ease his “meaningless existence,” as Watson refers to his life before meeting Holmes, becomes higher as one moves up the scale of hotels. Luxury hotels cater to the whims and fancies of the wealthy, and to this day can provide any service the guests desire — and are able to pay for….Baedeker’s (1905) gives the cost of the “least pretentious hotels” en pension (i.e. with full room and board), as around 10 shillings a day in the Strand area of London. “Many hotels refuse to receive dogs,” it says, “but provide for their keep in suitable quarters for 1/6 to 3s. per day.” The cost of living, with the occasional meal and drink outside the hotel, plus a weekly hot bath at 1/-, would have swallowed up Watson’s pension even before including the cost of a dog’s room and board."</blockquote></div><div>  <br /><br />As such, dogs were not “inappropriate for a private hotel” so much as costly. But one could well imagine a patriotic private hotel manager welcoming two veterans of the fatal battle of Maiwand, one two-legged and the other four-legged. </div><div><br /></div><div>But Edward’s pithy epigram isn’t so much a factual list of why Watson couldn’t have had a bull pup, since it’s inaccurate as to particulars, but a way to explain the last part: the bull pup’s invisibility at Baker Street.</div><div>  <br /><br />I think that the transient nature of Watson’s dog has to do with the way he phrased his possession of it. Not “I own a bull pup,” or “I have a bull pup,” but “I keep a bull pup.” </div><div><br /></div><div>True, “to keep” does mean “to retain possession of,” but it also means “to manage, tend, or have charge of.” <br /><br />Remember: Watson arrived in England in November 1880, well ahead of the rest of the 66th which did not return until February 1881, when he says:</div><blockquote><div>“I was so weak and emaciated that a medical board determined that not a day should be lost in sending me back to England. I was dispatched, accordingly, in the troopship <i>Orontes</i>,” </div></blockquote><div><br /></div><div>What if Captain Quarry asked the doctor to take his newly reacquired bull terrier pup Billy early back to the safety of England with him? </div><div><br /></div><div>Or if it was the pet of his faithful orderly Murray who had so recently saved his life? </div><div><br /></div><div>Or his old friend, Colonel Hayter, who had come under Watson care in Afghanistan? </div><div><br /></div><div>Or in fact any of the dog-owning men of the regiment? </div><div><br /></div><div>Watson then would have temporary keep of the bull pup until sometime after February 18, 1881 when the <i>Malabar </i>docked in Portsmouth. The pup may even have been retrieved by its owner before the start of <i>A Study in Scarlet</i>.</div><div>  <br /><br />It could be argued he was too weak to take care of a pup, although if the was strong enough for a sea voyage, he may have been up to the task of caring for a dog. And perhaps like today’s service animals, the dog helped take care of him.</div><div><br /></div><div>It may have been too heavy a burden for his wallet, but perhaps the owner made sure to cover Watson’s expenses. </div><div><br /></div><div>Watson didn’t say to Holmes “I keep a bull pup temporarily for a comrade,” or offer some other qualifier to his statement. The full sentence could have been altered by Watson, his literary agent, or the editors at Ward, Lock & Co. But whether or not the manuscript suffered unknown editing, the fact remains there is only one brief passage to indicate the pup’s existence.</div><div>  <br /><br />I offer the theory of Watson’s temporary stewardship of another member of the Berkshire’s canine from shortly before the doctor’s departure from Asia in October 1880 to a brief few months after his arrival in England in 1881, then returned to its owner. <br /><br />True, it is surmise. But to paraphrase Holmes “But at least it covers all the historical facts."</div><div><br /></div>
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<div><br /></div><div><i>Agree? Disagree? Have a theory of your own? Leave a comment for James below.</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /></div>

The Bull Pup: Canine, Gun, or Something Else?

"It's a dog," said I. [CROO] While the dog that did nothing in the night-time may be more famous to the world-at-large, being...

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by James C. O'Leary

Sahara King’s Sad Reign

<h4 style="text-align: center;">“You used to shoot lions in Algeria.” [MAZA]</h4><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAORFXC2_WchD_SqdnG9YpNgcewW0z9pvdyWrrpuEgTreprKgLrY_tdt9aBzkQRLdJ6oz4SbK1K2RPiTAzFrYHYwqDMJqI7_AINzm5kNW5iPepEk15fDjYNolEmXlOltBI4XvtNN4bDwRM/s1000/VEIL+-+FDS+Liberty-magazine-1927.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="693" data-original-width="1000" height="444" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAORFXC2_WchD_SqdnG9YpNgcewW0z9pvdyWrrpuEgTreprKgLrY_tdt9aBzkQRLdJ6oz4SbK1K2RPiTAzFrYHYwqDMJqI7_AINzm5kNW5iPepEk15fDjYNolEmXlOltBI4XvtNN4bDwRM/w640-h444/VEIL+-+FDS+Liberty-magazine-1927.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div><br /><p style="text-align: left;">

</p><p class="MsoNormal">An <a href="https://www.washingtonpost.com/lifestyle/kidspost/2-rare-barbary-lions-born-at-zoo-in-czech-republic/2019/07/08/23a21fdc-a1a2-11e9-b732-41a79c2551bf_story.html">Associated Press report</a> from September 10, 2020, noted the
rare birth of three Barbary lion cubs, which are extinct in the wild, in Safari
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Park Dvůr Králové, Czech Republic, which
is the second largest zoo there. It specializes in, and has, Europe’s largest
group of African wildlife and one of its missions is to protect endangered
species. (The park <a href="https://www.washingtonpost.com/world/3-rare-barbary-lion-cubs-born-in-czech-zoo-park/2020/09/10/99e7c922-f34e-11ea-8025-5d3489768ac8_story.html">also reported</a> the birth of one male and one female cub in
2019.) </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">The Barbary lion (<i>Panthera leo leo</i>) is also known as the “Berber
lion”, “Egyptian lion,” “Atlas lion” and, most familiar to Sherlockians, the
“North African lion.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was Sahara
King, that “very fine North African lion,” that was used as a red herring in
the Canon’s penultimate tale “The Adventure of the Veiled Lodger.”</span></p>

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Leonardo the
strongman conceived the plot to use a club shaped like a lion’s paw to strike
down famed circus owner Ronder to control his much-abused wife Eugenia and her
inherited fortune, leaving the unfortunate caged animal holding the bag. Not
for the first was this specie of feline the tool of base human wants and deeds.</span></p>

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">The <a href="https://blogs.scientificamerican.com/extinction-countdown/when-did-the-barbary-lion-really-go-extinct/">Barbary lion’s range</a> was the north and northwestern area of </span>Africa known as the Maghreb through
to Egypt. They had long been regarded one of the largest lion subspecies (with
males weighing between 400-650 lbs [181 to 295 kg] and females 270-400 lbs [120
to 181 kg]), with long dark-haired manes that grew over the shoulders and down
to the belly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal">These morphological
features, once thought to be distinct, are being called into question. The
weights estimated by nineteenth century hunters are considered inaccurate and
the signature mane a product of the Atlas Mountains colder climate as other
lion subspecies grow such manes in cooler North American and European zoos. Mitochondrial
DNA research does support a separate genetic identity for Barbary lions,
however.</p>

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">The lions were
kept, for their supposed unique majesty, by royal African and Egyptian families.
The Romans exported them to the Colosseum where thousands died in gladiatorial
games. They were trafficked all over Europe. </span><span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">In 1937, <a href="https://www.nhm.ac.uk/discover/barbary-lion-skull-from-the-tower-of-london.html" target="_blank">workmen uncovered twogenetically confirmed North African lion skulls</a>, carbon dated to having lived,
one between</span> <span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">1280 and 1385, the
other 1420 and 1480.  </span>High-class Victorian London hotels sometimes had them on
display as well as circuses like Ronder’s. </p><p class="MsoNormal">The year 1896, when "The Veiled Lodger" is stated to have taken place, found one famous Barbary lion, Sultan, living at the London Zoo.* The expansion of the Arab world
shrunk the lion’s habitat greatly and European hunters, such as Count Negretto
Sylvius (of "The Mazarin Stone" fame) finished them off. </p><p class="MsoNormal">At the time of the publication of "The Veiled Lodger," (the
January 22, 1927 edition of <i>Liberty</i> in the US, February 1927 <i>The
Strand</i> in the UK), the last Barbary lion was thought to have been killed by
a hunter in Morocco in 1922. </p><p class="MsoNormal">Yet another death of a hunted lion was reported in
the 1940s and sighting of single or small family groups were reported in
Algeria and Morocco in the 1950s and early 60s. The Barbary lions are reasoned to be extinct
in the wild and of the 100 or so in captivity there is a question of many of the cats'
genetic purity. </p><p class="MsoNormal"><i><a href="https://www.downtoearth.org.in/interviews/wildlife-and-biodiversity/-barbary-lion-reintroduction-in-north-africa-is-possible-but-needs-long-term-plans--72961">Down to Earth</a> </i>conducted an interview with Simon Black, a
conservation science lecturer at the University of Kent, UK, about the lion’s
future. “Some existing large tracts of land in north Africa would be suitable
for reintroduction,” he said, “but considerable effort would be needed to
restore sustainable levels of wild prey species (deer, boar, barbary sheep and
gazelle), most of which are endangered species themselves.</p>

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;"></span></p><blockquote><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Also protective
measures to avoid human-lion conflict, including livestock predation would need
to be implemented.</span></p>

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Reintroduction is
theoretically possible but would need a sensitive long-term plan and
considerable prior political and community support. Reintroduction of a
predator like lions would have to be part of purposeful, wider landscape
restoration in the region.” </span></p></blockquote><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;"></span></p>

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">As for Sahara King
himself, not much information is given in the story. Life in captivity has
little positive to speak for it even in more enlightened times. </span>The remains of the
Barbary lions housed in the <a href="https://www.nhm.ac.uk/discover/barbary-lion-skull-from-the-tower-of-london.html">Tower of London</a> show they were not well kept, being malnourished, which lead to skeletal deformities, possible paralysis, blindness and eventual
death. </p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Ronder, Holmes informed Watson, was an alcoholic, “huge bully of a man,
he cursed and slashed at everyone who came in his way.” It is doubtful he
treated his animals any better than he treated his wife or other humans. Sahara King’s
eventual outcome is never stated, but having been framed for Ronder’s death and
for mauling Eugenia, he was no doubt destroyed. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">To paraphrase Holmes, “Is not
his story a microcosm of the whole” of those large cats that once roamed free the
north of Africa whose lives in the wild came to the end by the hands of humans?</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">*<i>Coincidentally, a four year old Barbary lion, also named Sultan, was donated to the newly opened lion house at the Bronx Zoo in 1903. Photos of the Bronx Sultan will often show up in a Google search for the London Sultan.</i><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;"><br /></span></p>

</div>