I have written this down now that I am old, for I have found myself caught out in small inconsistencies in the telling of it over these past few years. And although it is now many years since the running of the Purse, still it holds a certain interest for those of the road, who have seen their life swallowed by progress, and their dogs converted to useless adornment.

In the south-west of England in the mid 1860's there was a bustling town called Trewen located at The Fiveways. A result of the geography of that part of England, the Fiveways was the point at which five busy highways joined.

The roads served all of the south western counties, reaching as far as the tin mines of Cornwall and the ports and fishing villages of the southern coast. Trewen was a natural way station for the carriages and mailers, the hauliers and the travellers on their journeys to and from these outlying areas, before men and goods made for the Home Counties and on to London or Birmingham.

On the outskirts of Trewen there was an inn which over the years had become the gathering place for the men who made their living on the road. These were the carriage masters and the long-hauliers, and the draymen. The inn provided free of charge a large compound where the transports, the coaches and more elegant carriages could be safely left in the charge of their dogs overnight while the masters repaid this service with their custom in the tavern.

Here on any night would be gathered an assortment of wagons, carriages and drays, and the inn served as a place where business might be arranged for return journeys, or animals replaced or cared for before the next part of the journey was undertaken.

The drivers and coachmen were an honest lot; few who gained a reputation for thievery lasted long as word of their untrustworthiness soon spread round the counties and work simply stopped coming their way. They worked with horses and assistants and dogs. They knew a lot about the nature of all three and valued a good dog as much as a willing horse or worker, understanding without thinking about it too much that the success of their trips through the outlying areas often relied as much upon their animal companions as upon their own skill.

They maintained a friendly rivalry in business matters but were always willing to assist each other on the road for who knew when that assistance might be in need of repayment? They cared for their horses and dogs and took a pride in their performance. Although these were not the Home Counties with their elegant carriages, traps and fast shooting brakes, still the men were pleased when they were complimented on the condition and appearance of their animals and wagons or coaches, as these compliments could sometimes turn into an extra trip or two.

The dogs were mostly dalmatians, a breed which had over the years proved itself above all others as a reliable companion for the road. They acted as scouts, warning of dangers ahead, willing defenders of life and property in the occasional scrape with the ne'er do wells that preyed upon the travellers and their goods, and as guards during the long night hours. They had a particular affinity with horses, which some say developed over the centuries as the dalmatian travelled Europe in the company of the gypsy caravans.

These dogs were not the fine, high-stepping adornments seen in the Home Counties wherever a gentleman drove a carriage for a mile or two. These were working dogs, somewhat chipped, scarred and scraped by heavy work and the life on the roads. But nevertheless they were a source of pride for their owners and a good dog was highly valued.

Over their ales and ciders the men would sometimes relate some deed or other of their dogs (for on the long miles there was little else to watch) and some nights the conversations became contests - as sometimes happens when men gather and drink is involved - the tales becoming a means of establishing one's superiority over one's companions - like friendly duels with the dog as the chosen weapon. And on one such evening the Fiveways Purse was born.

As is natural in any gathering, men of common experience tend to more easily identify with their peers - the carriage and coach drivers feeling more akin with each other than with the draymen and hauliers - and whilst all enjoyed the company of any road man over that of a clerk or travelling salesman, when rivalries surfaced the division usually fell along this line.

In a similar way the dogs of the road had their own hierarchy and groupings, maybe the result of observing the interaction of their owners, who knows? But certainly it was true that the carriage runners tended to look down upon the more sedate companions of the wagons. Never mind that the wagon dogs suffered more attacks - the carriage dogs travelled faster and farther each day so it was natural they felt a certain sense of superiority was it not?

And it went without saying that if food was to be had at the kitchen door, the carriage dogs could be seen at the forefront of the group and were accorded this right without envy by the others. It was only natural each thought, and besides time lost fighting meant less time for eating and this was a fact all the dogs had learnt at an early age.

This is not to suggest that chance meetings on the road were anything less than cordial affairs, a sniff or two, perhaps a joint marking of a tree to record their meeting, then each would go their ways. Dalmatians are in the main an agreeable lot, reserving their anger for any perceived threat to their masters.

But I digress.

The Trewen Fiveways Purse consisted that first time of the grand sum of half a guinea.

It arose out of an argument over the particular merits of some of the dogs who were at the time sleeping peacefully under, on, or near their owners vehicles. Several masters had nearly come to blows over the initial claim by one of their number to have "the best road dog in these parts and for many a mile if it came to that". Claim and counter-claim followed as the ale was drunk with ever more outlandish exploits instanced in defence of each man's favourite animal.

The publican, sensing perhaps physical damage to his premises, cast the fateful die by suggesting a competition of sorts "with an honest judge whereby you could be assured the results were genuine". It is a measure of his concern that the first half of that half guinea purse was put up there and then by him, with the balance quickly collected from this, the newest group of dog fanciers in the land.

The men, finding this an agreeable solution to their problem, returned to their ales each satisfied for the moment that come the day of judging their own animal would share in the prize. In this we see nothing has changed.

Discussion then arose as to who might judge this event. This was quickly settled - the landlord acting to prevent another outbreak by nominating the local squire. Not only was John Evans the local magistrate, but he regularly hunted over a pack of hounds and so could be thought to have an eye for a dog, or so the landlord thought.

And so it was agreed, as each man went to check his animals and load before retiring, that the following month on the same day, as many who wished to present their dogs might enter for the Purse. These would be dalmatians - or close relatives of such. Dalmatians, being naturally gregarious, the highways had become populated with their seed and some of these siblings now served the roadmen beside their sires and dams.

But what of these dogs, destined shortly to carry into battle their masters high hopes and hard-won coin? A little history before the match is recounted.

The particular history I can relate is of those dogs called Bosun, Sheba, Lefty, Limper, Crop, Stump and Dog.

Whilst many more attended at Trewen that next month, these seven by one means or another shortly found themselves in the final run for the jangling Purse.

And if these names may be somewhat known to you, I doubt their history has been elsewhere recorded. It sometimes helps to understand a thing if you know from whence it arose and how it came to be. Or at least I believe so.

Bosun was a late-comer to the road, having served his first years aboard a naval vessel as a sort of mascot. He was born of a chance meeting between his mother and a gypsy dog in the fields of France during the War. His mother at that time had adopted a party of battle-weary English sailors who had found themselves pressed into land-borne service in the dying days of battle.

She became a sort of release for the men from their harsh daily fight for survival, and was fed ungrudgingly from whatever was to hand or scavenged by them, often with her assistance in the finding it must be said. Upon recall to their ship it seemed only fitting that she become a sailor as, with her advancing condition in the onset of winter, the men felt more than a little concern for her survival. Not all sea-farers are harsh or un-loving of animals as might be thought. During the voyage she gave birth to five pups but fell herself from some infection or other. Of the pups only Bosun survived - perhaps an early indication of his later strength and fortitude. And so he became a mascot at a young age, like his mother before him you could say.

The large naval dockyards of Plymouth became his English home, and whilst never far from sight of his shipboard friends, he was nevertheless inclined to lose himself in the wonder of the sights and sounds and smells of the port. Dalmatians are, as a breed, inquisitive and restless, seeming always to be seeking the answers to some unfathomable dog question or other.

And so it was that at some three years of age he found himself staring at the departing stern of his ship having spent just a little too long in his investigation of a newly arrived cargo from the Western Isles.

As dogs will do, he survived. Until one day, late in his fourth year of life he was befriended by a coachman waiting upon the arrival of the Southern mail packet. Who knows how dogs make their choices in life but this was such a meeting. Bosun became the much needed replacement for the coachman. His old dog, Bosun, (coachmen are suspicious of change having seen far too much of it for their liking) had finally met his match in a band of layabouts who thought the resting coachman an easy target.

This new Bosun took to life on the road instantly, and with a resumption of regular food, became strong and bold in every way. A pleasing dog to look at, he was not yet cut about or scarred by the road. And happy to work, yes indeed! All in all a fitting candidate for the purse you would think, if a little young for the taste of some.

Lefty on the other hand had seen many a mile, from Great London itself to Cornwall. He was now rising seven and the past year had seen a slipping in his fortunes as he found himself passed from a mail coach not unlike that of Bosun's master, to the slower life of the long haul wagons.

This in fact suited Lefty quite fine because the distances to be covered each day dwindled to just upon ten miles or thereabouts and at his age the steadier pace more suited him. And you mustn't judge a dog's fortunes with your own eyes - look at it rather from his point of view.

His master George Higgins was a kindly man who maintained three dogs for protection and company - Lefty was the only dalmatian, the others being sort of nondescript mongrels though useful enough in a fight. George kept Lefty's name unchanged because it seemed only fitting what with the dog's tendency to always circle round the wagon in a left or anti-clockwise direction. Besides he would react to no other name that George invented in those first few days.

George didn't realise that this was bred from long years of habit because you see Lefty was deaf in his right ear and had found this left-leading circle to be more suited to picking up his master's shouted instructions over the noise of the road. Dalmatians are clever and resourceful dogs, in practical things like this, don't you think?

Over the years Lefty had adapted so well to his one-sided sense that it would take a man of much keener insight than George to understand the reason for this strange if consistent behaviour. A dog of few words, having learnt that his own voice reduced his ability to hear others, he was now a valued member of George's caravan.

Lefty was a short, stocky sort of dalmatian, quite a bit different from the more elegant town dogs now being bred as adornments for the city life of the well to do. But place the two together as George would say and the road dog would more than hold his own in the work to be done, with his hard horny pads and powerful shoulders. This was a dog built for work and so he had proved to a succession of satisfied owners.

But if only he would once circle to the right, I'd be a happy man, said George over many a pint.

Sheba was rising five and unlike most road workers had been in the care of her present master since birth. She was a kind and sensitive dog (the others were usually so but, well, she was more so) who had had to watch Dan Johnston slip lower through the sieve of life until they found themselves (from one of Dan's few winning wagers) in the company of a short haul dray - one horse, Dan and Sheba.

It had not always been so because Daniel had come from a well to do merchant family, but the curse of the drink and a little gambling had put the skids under Dan and it seemed only fair that Sheba should go along down the slide.

I know a little more of Dan and Sheba than the others because I share with Dan a taste for the written word. Life as a country vet whilst never dull, can sometimes drag a bit and the reading habits acquired at university stick with a person throughout life. Dan would often call by to borrow a book or two, or to return same, and usually accompanied this with his thoughts on the author or his subject. This served me well because Dan also provided a steady source of new reading as his route began at Portsmouth where the newest literature was usually available.

So while I saw each of the dogs from time to time, tending their cuts and abrasions where these were too serious for the normal roadman's methods of tar and molasses, it must be said that Dan's Sheba was the most familiar of them.

Sheba was so named by Dan at birth. Being one of the few road men who could read he was regarded with some little curiosity by the other men who took longer to accept him in their midst than may have otherwise been the case. He had read the poets and writers from a young age and so Sheba was Sheba and not Peg or Missy or Girl.

The life suited Dan as, with little money and a disowning family behind him, he was never so much in cash as to do himself harm in the taverns and grog shops of his route. His gentle nature and careful speech were somehow trusted by the merchants of these parts and he found little trouble in establishing a regular route of regular customers for himself.

The life suited Sheba because it suited Dan. With the horse for animal company and a loving if down at heel, owner she always put in extra effort to somehow repay what she felt was in fact a turn for the better in her life. I think she had not enjoyed the smoke filled rooms and late night carousing which quite often left her the only friend beside her master when he awoke, broke again, in some seedy back room.

She had produced a litter by Lefty the previous year, following a longer than usual layover in Trewen while Dan attended to a broken axle. Occasionally she saw her offspring on the roads as her style and Lefty's known worth as a worker had guaranteed each of her pups a start in life.

Well, at least until they failed some test of the road as so many so often did.

Limper and Crop were the only pair of the seven who ran the last test. They, like Bosun, ran with the coaches.

Limper had suffered from a broken toe at a young age and its healing at an odd angle caused him to veer slightly off centre as his hind leg pushed through behind the fore. No one could say that this affected his work however - mail coaches regularly travelled twenty plus miles a day. Day in and day out - all weathers. It was just that anything above a steady trot brought this oddity to one's notice. As a worker he is valued highly by Mr Stubbins.

Limper was also a little different because he was brown or more correctly liver coloured. Whilst this was not an unusual colour in dalmatians by any means, still it was less often seen than the blacks. It certainly did not affect his work which was respected by all of the road but it did serve to distinguish him from the other dogs in these parts. And if dogs suffer with pride as so often is the case with their owners then, I fancy that Limper was aware of his distinctive looks and carried his head and his tail just a little higher than one would ordinarily expect of a dalmatian.

Crop was an older bitch who at quite a young age had suffered the indignity of having her ears cropped in what was by then a dying custom. It had been believed for many years that this produced a healthier dog, less inclined to canker or other ear infection, and it was also, for a time regarded as a thing of fashion amongst the well to do.

But lately the wounded appearance of such unfortunate animals had caused an outcry and the practice had all but ceased. Unfortunately for Crop these changes in fashion only slowly reached the outer counties. So she bore, you could say, the mark of ignorance.

These dogs ran the high road down from Bristol and on through to Portsmouth. They did the miles steadily, either circling ahead or trotting in close attendance to the coach. They alternated these positions, it seemed, on some pre-arranged schedule, so that at any one time one of them was just to the rear of the rear axle and one was scouting.

Mr Stubbins, I doubt had thought these things through to a conclusion, but he was proud of the fact that his coach was instantly recognisable as it rumbled through the villages, accompanied by the brown dog and the crop-eared bitch.

There was no doubting who the driver was of that particular coach - and he liked it that way.

One of these dalmatians suffered from all the bad luck some men and dogs seem to attract. If ever there was a meeting on the roads with a savage animal, or a trip to be done in urgency through foul weather, or a wheel to be falling off, well it was Stump who was usually the witness.

Even his name bore out this state of affairs coming by it as he did in a moments laziness through not moving fast enough from under the wagon as it pulled away from a midday break. His tail was caught by the wheel, and neatly snipped at about half its length.

Despite the endless vicissitudes of his fate, Stump was a happy dog. Most dalmatians are happy but in Stump's case one would have forgiven a somewhat darker demeanour than he seemed to display to all about him. And perhaps this was why even though his master regarded Stump with some superstition as possibly the cause of their lot in life, he kept on with him.

So Stump kept his job as a result of his friendly manner and calm in the face of one disaster after the other. Perhaps there might be a lesson in this for men. Dalmatians are well suited to be the teacher of Man it seems to me.

And it must be said that through Stump's many ups and more downs he came to be the fittest, cunningest (dalmatians can be cunning - in dogs this is no crime, but a means of survival at times), runningest of them all. I saw him from time to time, tending to a ripped ear and a torn dewclaw and several of the worst cuts I ever did see.

So if Life had dealt him a poor hand (and even marked him with a patch for further proof), it seemed to me She had also provided Stump with the fortitude to play it well.

Dog is the last of the seven who ran the final test for the Purse and whose circumstances I have briefly given. And it is only by chance that her history is so ordered - I would not wish you to think she be anything less than the equal of the aforementioned dalmatians.

Dog is a smallish bitch who is the life companion of Martin Stone, late of Bristol, but now more heavily involved in transferring some of the Cornish wealth back to the growing industrial centres to the north. Martin runs three heavy wagons on this long route and I fear his days are numbered as shipping and lately rail would appear to me to be a more economic means of moving his goods. Still, while it lasts, he earns a living in the company of several assistants, twelve horses and an ever-changing cloud of dogs.

While most of this pack is a motley assortment of breeds, suited by the slow pace of the wagons, Dog has come to be a favourite of Martin and can more often than not be seen perched behind him on one of the wagons. Dalmatians take readily to this you see and I have heard it told that in America they sometimes are found on top of the fire wagons as they roll through the streets.

This is not to suggest that Dog was lazy - she could, and regularly did, accompany Martin on hurried trips by horseback to the nearest town for some repair or other - and this at full pace because Martin liked to gallop - perhaps to offset the boredom of the meandering pace more suited to the heavy loads his wagons bore.

I do not know why Dog was so named. I cannot myself think of one good reason why this should be but have yet to ask Martin about this. Perhaps it is that he has not yet gotten around to it, or perhaps it suits him just so. But with many other dogs in the caravan one would think he could at least offer her a name of more distinction. It seems to me that dalmatians deserve a better calling than that of Dog don't you agree? Be this as it may, Dog she is for the running of the Purse.

Now it was unfortunate for the men who gathered for the Purse that Squire Evans (for it was he as I mentioned who was to act as judge) had lately returned from his annual London sojourn.

The English have always liked their dogs and recently there had sprung up an Appreciation Society formed for the purpose of conducting exhibitions of dogs, the prizes often no more than recognition and the extra use of one's stock in the breeding of the next generation.

While greyhound racing had been conducted in many parts for many years this newest activity was about nothing more than ascertaining the worth of one's animal and his right to be called a particular breed of terrier or hound or lap-dog.

Evans had attended one of these exhibitions just days before returning to find his services were on request as adjudicator for the Purse. And so it was he set the rules for the conduct of the match in this new style.

The assembled men, being already committed in coin to this day's event, were struck more than a little ill at ease to find that the competition for the Purse was not to be a distance affair proving those points for which their dogs had been bred down the ages but rather a contest of suitability to be called by the name dalmatian; this to be judged by means of close examination by the judge of each dog's points of construction and appearance.

You may picture the scene if you will as follows:

A square of rope was laid on the ground - referred to as a ring in the manner of the boxing tent. The eighteen hopeful owners were herded into this area by Evans himself and told to attend to the standing of their dogs. He announced that each animal was to be called forward in turn for close examination of joint and muscle and would then be required to complete a largish triangle, moving only at the trot, so that he might thereby observe the movement of the animal.

And If you are temporarily confused by this 'triangling' within a square of rope which is called a ring then be assured you have well understood my description - and the roadmen's reaction.

Perhaps it was the thought of the Purse to be won but sooner rather than later each entrant attempted to get the best showing of their dog whilst Squire Evans moved up and down the line for a first inspection of the dalmatians presented. The attention of the men was soon closely riveted upon this phase as first one dog, then another was excused from the ring on the grounds that they were "not remotely like dalmatians, more likely the result of some wayside encounter - mind you I don't doubt they can work", or so said the judge as he waved them away.

Thus were eighteen reduced in short order to twelve.

Retiring to the benches the landlord had provided (for his yard was the natural place for the conduct of this affair and he was now doing brisk trade amongst the spectators), these unfortunates consoled themselves with an ale or two as the judging progressed. As the dogs were sifted and sieved, and dismissed or passed on, it came to the point where the coachmen and carters adopted one of their surviving lot as their champion for the moment. Comment was to be heard from the spectators as to the particular worth or not of the dalmatian presently under inspection by the judge. Perhaps this was in an effort to influence the outcome who knows?

The countryman like his city cousin is by nature a competitive sort and already an enterprising harness salesman, knowing nothing of dogs but a bit about gambling, was 'running a book' on the eventual outcome.

He was holding more than the Purse when it came down to the seven.

And the crowd divided neatly behind Bosun, Limper and Crop on the one hand and Lefty, Sheba Stump and Dog on the other. Coach and wagon, swift and slow. The landlord tensed and set in place a keg of well-watered beer to offset, he prayed, the approaching storm.

Now Evans was a perceptive man, with many years service on the bench whereupon I suppose he saw all manner of men. It may also be true to say that at times his rulings were tempered as much by the opinion of the community as by the necessity to exact the last letter of the law.

In another life he would have made a fair politician seeming able to grasp the feelings of those around him fairly quickly. But here he was, accidentally, reducing the lineup of hopefuls to two easily identifiable camps. His decisions thus far had been fair and without favour but it seemed to me, around this time, that he became aware that reduction of one camp should more carefully be followed by one from the other. The awful moment was fast approaching when this fence-sitting would reach its logical conclusion and he began to take note of the numbers in the groups of men around him and their condition as to drink.

So he dismissed Bosun, proclaiming him too young as yet to be fairly judged against the others, then followed this dangerous imbalance with dismissal of Stump for loss of tail and general dilapidation (whilst praising him highly) and Dog because she was a little small for her work - "which I understand she does very well but I'm to find the best dalmatian don't you see?".

Four now faced him, two dogs, and two bitches - two from the drays and two from the mailers. But by merest accident of course!

Limper was the next to be politely requested to retire - he after all was known to limp and on one triangle Mr Stubbins had moved him fast enough for this to show. Sheba followed because her owner was known to the judge to be a fairly quiet sort. It seems to me that a dog may be judged by her master if a judge be aware of a particular face. I hold this to be human nature at work.

Crop and Lefty now held the ground and final bets were placed with the salesman, sometimes loudly enough to carry to Evans as he stood in centre ring observing the dalmatians, and behind them the crowd. These were both fine dalmatians and had their winning through the ranks been achieved by other means, still most would agree that they were fair examples of the breed.

The judge announced loudly (perhaps to test the waters he was about to plunge into) that he favoured Lefty over Crop but would have them once more around together if you please. Undecided by this, but noting that his announcement sat uneasily with the crowd, he asked for yet another turn of the ring. And here it was that Lefty came undone.

Seeking some new variety in the manner of his judging, or perhaps to further impress the crowd with his knowledge and thereby guarantee his safety, Squire Evans requested a right turning lap. Lefty had hereto been quite happy to trot with his master round leftwise for it was natural to him and came from long years of 'lefting'. So Lefty started left but drew up at the check of his now worried handler. They started again but Lefty moved left as handler moved right.

Judge Evans and the crowd could see the dilemma as Crop had by now well and truly completed the circuit. Her owner sensing advantage repeated the run at a faster pace (perhaps in his mind running toward the Purse) whilst Lefty moved left and handler moved right - again. And again.

So Crop was victorious and the carters could not begrudge her the win, seeing Lefty's failure so plain to view. The Squire retired, the landlord relaxed and the salesman counted out coins.

And the dogs? Well I saw Lefty and Crop share a word or two with the others. And then I saw Lefty grin as he went right, round his wagon. To the right did you note? in fact once right around.

Dalmatians are known to be grinners when something amuses them - or so I have found.