THE ANIMAL KINGDOM. SUB-KINGDOM I—VERTEBRATA. (continued 3)

The Arctic Fox. The Arctic Fox, which is of a beautiful white colour, is found, according to Captain James Ross, in the highest northern latitudes, even in the winter. In the late autumn the younger generation make their way south and congregate in the neighbourhood of Hudson's Bay, returning north in the early spring of the following year. They are gregarious, living in companies in burrows in sandy places.

Wild Dogs. Wild dogs abound in various parts of the world, of which the Dingos of Australia, the Dholes of India and the Aguaras of South America are examples. The wild dogs of the East are familiar to all readers of Eastern travels. A writer in the Times newspaper describes the dogs of Constantinople, as "omnipresent, lawless, yet perfectly harmless dogs," which perform valuable but ill requited service as scavengers of the city. He says:—"In shape, in countenance, in language, in their bandy legs, pointed noses, pricked up ears, dirty yellow coats, and bushy tails, they could be hunted as foxes in Gloucestershire. They are," he continues, "up and doing from sunset to sunrise, and enjoy the refreshment of well-earned, profound sleep almost throughout the day. They are not only homeless and masterless but have also a sovereign contempt for bed or shelter. There is a time it would seem, when sleep comes upon them—all of them—like sudden death; when all squat down, coil themselves up, nose to tail, wherever they chance to be—on the footpath, in the carriage way, in the gutter—and there lie in the sunshine, in the pelting rain, yellow bundles, hardly distinguishable from the mud. The Constantinople dog never learns to wag his tail; he never makes up, never looks up to a human being, never encourages or even notices men's advances. He is not exactly sullen, or cowed, or mistrustful; he is simply cold and distant as an Englishman is said to be when not introduced."

"The Dingo, the wild dog of Australia," says Mrs. Bowdich "roams in packs through that vast country; has a broad head; fierce oblique eyes; acute muzzle; short, pointed, erect ears; tail bushy, and never raised to more than a horizontal position. He does not bark, but howls fearfully; is extremely sagacious, and has a remarkable power of bearing pain. When beaten so severely as to be left for dead, he has been seen to get up and run away. A man proceeded to skin one, not doubting that life was extinct, and after proceeding a little way with the operation, he left the hut to sharpen his knife. When he returned, the poor animal was sitting up, with the loose skin hanging over one side of his face." The Dhole of India, similarly hunts in packs, attacking and destroying even the tiger. Their sense of smell is very acute, their bark similar to that of a hound, their colour red or sandy. They have long heads, oblique eyes, long erect ears; and very powerful limbs. The Aguaras of South America, says Mrs. Bowdich, resemble foxes. "They are silent if not dumb, and appear to congregate in families rather than packs. They have a peculiar propensity to steal and secrete without any apparent object in so doing."

The Dog. The dog divides with the horse the honour of being the most intimate and devoted of the servants of mankind. "His origin," says Mr. Jesse "is lost in antiquity. We find him occupying a place in the earliest pagan worship; his name has been given to one of the first-mentioned stars of the heavens, and his effigy may be seen in some of the most ancient works of art. Pliny was of opinion that there was no domestic animal without its unsubdued counterpart, and dogs are known to exist absolutely wild in various parts of the old and new world." Whether the dog of civilization is a descendant of these wild dogs, or whether the wild dog is the progeny of domestic varieties relapsed into a condition of savagery, and whether both are descended from the wolf and the jackal has often been discussed. Certain it is that many of the species which now obtain are in certain characteristics at least the result of artificial breeding. In its domestic state, the dog is remarkable for its usefulness, obedience, and attachment to its master; and the great variety of breeds that are trained and educated for our benefit or amusement, are almost too numerous to be mentioned. The principal are, the greyhound, noted for his speed; the Newfoundland dog, remarkable for his size, sagacity, and benevolence; the shepherd's dog, perhaps the most useful of all; the spaniel, the barbel, and the setter, useful in hunting; the pointer, the staunchest of all dogs; the Dalmatian or coach-dog, with a skin beautifully spotted; the terrier, useful for destroying vermin; the blood-hound, formerly used for tracing criminals; the harrier, beagle, and foxhound, distinguished for their quick sense of smell; and the bull-dog, and mastiff, which are our watch-dogs.

The Dog's Understanding. Many marvellous instances are on record of the dog's capacity for understanding not only the direct commands of his master, to which of course he may be easily trained, but also, sometimes, the drift of conversations in which his master may engage.

The Rev. James Simpson of Edinburgh had a fine Newfoundland dog of which some good stories are told. On one occasion, however, Mr. Simpson happening to remark to a friend in the dog's hearing that, as he was about to change his residence, he would have to part with his dog, the dog took the hint, left the house and was never heard of again. Sheep dogs have been known to take very apparent interest in conversations upon the subject of their profession, and to anticipate the word of command by their perception of the drift of the remarks. Mr. St. John, in his "Highland Sports", gives a remarkable illustration of the way in which a shepherd's dog understood the conversation of his master:—"A shepherd once, to prove the quickness of his dog, who was lying before the fire in the house where we were talking, said to me, in the middle of a sentence concerning something else, 'I'm thinking, sir, the cow is in the potatoes.' Though he purposely laid no stress on these words, and said them in a quiet, unconcerned tone of voice, the dog, who appeared to be asleep, immediately jumped up, and leaping through the open window, scrambled up the turf roof of the house, from which he could see the potato field. He then (not seeing the cow there) ran and looked into the byre, where she was, and finding that all was right, came back to the house. After a short time the shepherd said the same words again, and the dog repeated his look-out; but on the false alarm being a third time given, the dog got up, and wagging his tail, looked his master in the face with so comical an expression of interrogation, that we could not help laughing aloud at him, on which, with a slight growl, he laid himself down in his warm corner, with an offended air, as if determined not to be made a fool of again."

The well known story of Sir Walter Scott's dog, supplied by him to Captain Brown, is another illustration. "The wisest dog I ever had," said Sir Walter, "was what is called the bull-dog terrier. I taught him to understand a great many words, insomuch that I am positive that the communication betwixt the canine species and ourselves might be greatly enlarged. Camp once bit the baker, who was bringing bread to the family. I beat him, and explained the enormity of his offence; after which, to the last moment of his life, he never heard the least allusion to the story, in whatever voice or tone it was mentioned, without getting up and retiring into the darkest corner of the room, with great appearance of distress. Then if you said, 'the baker was well paid,' or, 'the baker was not hurt after all,' Camp came forth from his hiding-place, capered, and barked, and rejoiced. When he was unable, towards the end of his life, to attend me when on horseback, he used to watch for my return, and the servant would tell him 'his master was coming down the hill, or through the moor,' and although he did not use any gesture to explain his meaning, Camp was never known to mistake him, but either went out at the front to go up the hill, or at the back to get down to the moor-side. He certainly had a singular knowledge of spoken language."

One of the most remarkable illustrations of the dog's capacity for understanding is probably that given by Mrs. Bowdich, as follows:

"Professor Owen was walking with a friend, by the side of a river, near its mouth, on the coast of Cornwall, and picked up a small piece of sea-weed. It was covered with minute animals; and Mr. Owen observed to his companion, throwing the weed into the water, 'If this small piece affords so many treasures, how microscopically rich the whole plant must be! I should much like to have one.' The gentlemen walked on, but hearing a splashing in the water, turned round, and saw it violently agitated. 'It is Lion!' both exclaimed; 'what can he be about? He was walking quietly enough by our side a minute ago.' At one moment they saw his tail above the water, then his head raised for a breath of air, then the surrounding element shook again, and at last he came ashore, panting from his exertions, and laid a whole plant of the identical weed at Mr. Owen's feet. After this proof of intelligence, it will not be wondered at, that when Lion was joyfully expecting to accompany his master and his guest on an excursion, and was told to go and take care of and comfort Mrs. Owen, who was ill, he should immediately return to the drawing-room and lay himself by her side, which he never left during the absence of his owner, his countenance alone betraying his disappointment, and that only for a few minutes."

The Dog's Sense of Locality. Dogs have a remarkable sense of locality, and will find their way to a spot they have once visited with an unerring instinct under circumstances which make it impossible for them to rely entirely upon their sense of scent. Some of the stories told of the extraordinary journeys made by dogs, apparently without anything to guide them but their natural instinct, seem almost incredible.

Captain Brown tells a story of a gentleman of Glasgow, who was unfortunately drowned in the river Oder while bathing during a continental tour. A Newfoundland dog, who was his travelling companion, made every effort to save him, but failing to do so, found his way either to Frankfort, or Hamburgh, where he went on board a vessel bound for England, from which he landed somewhere on the coast, finding his way ultimately to the person from whom he had been originally purchased, and who lived near Holyrood palace.

Another dog who, on arriving in England from Newfoundland, was given to a gentleman in London, was sent by him to a friend in Scotland, by water. The dog, however, made his escape and found his way back to his old master at Fish Street Hill, London, though as Mr. Jesse puts it "in so exhausted a state that he could only express his joy at seeing his master and then die."

This instinct seems to be common to many varieties of dogs. Captain Brown tells of a Dalmatian or coach-dog which Lord Maynard lost in France, and which he found at his house on his return to England, though how it had got there he never could trace. It is not necessary, says Captain Brown, that the dog shall have previously travelled the ground by which it returns. A person who went by sea from Aberdeen to Leith, lost his dog at the latter place, and found it on his return at Aberdeen. It must have travelled over a country unknown to it, and have crossed the firths of Forth and Tay.

Illustrations might easily be multiplied. Mr. Jesse tells of a dog which was presented to the Captain of a collier by a gentleman residing at Wivenhoe in Essex and which on being landed at Sunderland found its way back to its old master, and also of a spaniel belonging to Colonel Hardy which after accompanying him from Essex to Bath in a post chaise, found its way back through London, a distance of 140 miles in three days.

Perhaps a more remarkable instance is that recorded of his dog by M. d'Obsonville. This animal accompanied his master and a friend from Pondicherry to Bengalore, a distance of more than nine hundred miles. M. D'Obsonville says, "Our journey occupied nearly three weeks; and we had to traverse plains and mountains, and to ford rivers, and go along bypaths. The animal, which had certainly never been in that country before, lost us at Bengalore, and immediately returned to Pondicherry. He went directly to the house of my friend, M. Beglier, then commandant of artillery, and with whom I had generally lived. Now, the difficulty is not so much to know how the dog subsisted on the road (for he was very strong, and able to procure himself food), but how he should so well have found his way after an interval of more than a month! This was an effort of memory greatly superior to that which the human race is capable of exerting."

Dog Friendships and Enmities. That dogs make very strong friendships among themselves is attested by many an affecting story. A Radnorshire lady, who married and went to reside in Yorkshire, afterwards paid a visit to her old home where her father, before her marriage, had kept two or three sheep-dogs of whom she was very fond. Having retired from business, her father had disposed of all but one dog, and upon her arrival this one met the lady with every demonstration of delight and, that same night, went a distance of seven miles to a farmhouse where one of the other dogs who had become blind, then lived. In the morning when the lady went to the door she saw not only the dog which had given her such a glad reception on the previous day, but also the old blind one, which had evidently been brought by the other dog to welcome her. When the second night came the old blind dog was taken back to its home by the same dog, which afterwards returned, having travelled a distance of twenty-eight miles to give pleasure to his old blind friend.

Instances might easily be multiplied but we must content ourselves with one of a very different character from Colonel Hamilton Smith's "Cyclopædia of Natural History." "In the neighbourhood of Cupar, in the county of Fife, there lived two dogs, mortal enemies to each other, and who always fought desperately whenever they met. Capt. R—— was the master of one of them, and the other belonged to a neighbouring farmer. Capt. R——'s dog was in the practice of going messages, and even of bringing butchers' meat and other articles from Cupar. One day, while returning, charged with a basket containing some pieces of mutton, he was attacked by some of the curs of the town, who, no doubt, thought the prize worth contending for. The assault was fierce, and of some duration; but the messenger, after doing his utmost, was at last overpowered and compelled to yield up the basket, though not before he had secured a part of its contents. The piece saved from the wreck he ran off with, at full speed, to the quarters of his old enemy, at whose feet he laid it down, stretching himself beside it till he had eaten it up. A few snuffs, a few whispers in the ear, and other dog-like courtesies, were then exchanged; after which they both set off together for Cupar, where they worried almost every dog in the town; and, what is more remarkable, they never afterwards quarrelled, but were always on friendly terms." This story also illustrates another characteristic of the dog family. Dogs combine for purposes of offence and defence. Cats stand or fall alone.

Dog Language. The foregoing is also a proof of the faculty by which animals can communicate their ideas to each other which in dogs is particularly remarkable. There are many curious anecdotes recorded, illustrative of this faculty. "At Horton, England, about the year 1818, a gentleman from London took possession of a house, the former tenant of which had moved to a farm about half a mile off. The new inmate brought with him a large French poodle dog, to take the duty of watchman, in the place of a fine Newfoundland dog, which went away with his master; but a puppy of the same breed was left behind, and he was instantly persecuted by the poodle. As the puppy grew up, the persecution still continued. At length, he was one day missing for some hours; but he did not come back alone; he returned with his old friend, the large house-dog, to whom he had made a communication; and in an instant the two fell upon the unhappy poodle, and killed him before he could be rescued from their fury. In this case, the injuries of the young dog must have been made known to his friend; a plan of revenge concerted; and the determination to carry that plan into effect formed and executed with equal promptitude. The following story, which illustrates, even in a more singular manner, the communication of ideas between dogs, was told by a clergyman, as an authentic anecdote. A surgeon of Leeds found a little spaniel who had been lamed. He carried the poor animal home, bandaged up his leg, and, after two or three days, turned him out. The dog returned to the surgeon's house every morning, till his leg was perfectly well. At the end of several months, the spaniel again presented himself, in company with another dog, who had also been lamed; and he intimated, as well as piteous and intelligent looks could intimate, that he desired the same kind assistance to be rendered to his friend, as had been bestowed upon himself. A similar circumstance is stated to have occurred to Moraut, a celebrated French surgeon."

The Dog's Intelligence. Many instances have been chronicled of the actions of dogs, which seem clearly the result of a process of reasoning. Mr. Jesse tells of a dog who was sent to fetch two hats which had been left lying upon the grass. After several unsuccessful attempts to carry the two together in his mouth, he laid them on the ground, placed the smaller within the larger, pressed it down with his foot, and then easily carried them to his master. Instances are recorded of dogs who while always ready to perform a useful service, absolutely refused to act for the amusement of on-lookers or to discharge unnecessary duties. Thus a dog who would go into the water to retrieve a wild duck would refuse to fetch anything that had been thrown in for the purpose of displaying his agility, and another who was accustomed to ring the servants' bell at the bidding of his mistress refused to do so when told while the servant was in the room, and if repeatedly commanded to do so, would lay hold of the servant's coat and attempt to drag him to his mistress. These illustrations seem to show a power of discrimination not usually credited to animals. Of the intelligence shown by dogs which have been trained, the following story from the "Percy Anecdotes" is at once a remarkable and an amusing illustration. "One day, when Dumont, a tradesman of the Rue St. Denis, was walking in the Boulevard St. Antoine with a friend, he offered to lay a wager with the latter, that if he were to hide a six-livre piece in the dust, his dog would discover and bring it to him. The wager was accepted, and the piece of money secreted, after being carefully marked. When the two had proceeded some distance from the spot, M. Dumont called to his dog that he had lost something, and ordered him to seek it. Caniche immediately turned back, and his master and his companion pursued their walk to the Rue St. Denis. Meanwhile a traveller, who happened to be just then returning in a small chaise from Vincennes, perceived the piece of money, which his horse had kicked from its hiding-place; he alighted, took it up, and drove to his inn, in the Rue Pont-aux-Choux. Caniche had just reached the spot in search of the lost piece when the stranger picked it up. He followed the chaise, went into the inn, and stuck close to the traveller. Having scented out the coin which he had been ordered to bring back in the pocket of the latter, he leaped up incessantly at and about him. The traveller, supposing him to be some dog that had been lost or left behind by his master, regarded his different movements as marks of fondness; and as the animal was handsome, he determined to keep him. He gave him a good supper, and on retiring to bed took him with him to his chamber. No sooner had he pulled off his breeches, than they were seized by the dog; the owner conceiving that he wanted to play with them, took them away again. The animal began to bark at the door, which the traveller opened, under the idea that the dog wanted to go out. Caniche snatched up the breeches, and away he flew. The traveller posted after him with his night-cap on, and literally sans culottes. Anxiety for the fate of a purse full of gold Napoleons, of forty francs each, which was in one of the pockets, gave redoubled velocity to his steps. Caniche ran full speed to his master's house, where the stranger arrived a moment afterwards breathless and enraged. He accused the dog of robbing him. 'Sir,' said the master, 'my dog is a very faithful creature; and if he has run away with your breeches, it is because you have in them money which does not belong to you.' The traveller became still more exasperated. 'Compose yourself, sir,' rejoined the other, smiling; 'without doubt there is in your purse a six-livre piece, with such and such marks, which you have picked up in the Boulevard St. Antoine, and which I threw down there with the firm conviction that my dog would bring it back again. This is the cause of the robbery which he has committed upon you.' The stranger's rage now yielded to astonishment; he delivered the six-livre piece to the owner, and could not forbear caressing the dog which had given him so much uneasiness, and such an unpleasant chase."

Dogs' Mistakes. That dogs sometimes make mistakes in the exercise of their intelligence, with somewhat ludicrous results, is of course true. A dog once accompanied a gentleman's servant to a tailor's with a coat of his master's which needed repair. Having his suspicions with regard to the transaction, the dog watched his opportunity, seized the coat from the counter and carried it back with evident satisfaction to his master. Another dog caused great amusement at a swimming match by insisting upon the rescue of one of the competitors. Dogs have also been known to cause both amusement and consternation by leaping upon the stage to rescue the defenceless characters of the melodrama from the hands of the heavy villain of the play. The story of the dog who failed to recognise his master who had been bathing, and who therefore refused to allow him to have his clothes, is probably apochryphal, but if true is another illustration of the awkwardness of dogs' mistakes.

The Eskimo Dog. Colonel Hamilton Smith in his classification of dogs begins with those which belong nearest to the arctic circle, and it will be convenient to follow his order in so far as space will allow. Speaking of the Eskimo dog Captain Lyon says:—"Having myself possessed during our hard winter a team of eleven fine dogs, I was enabled to become better acquainted with their good qualities than could possibly have been the case by the casual visits of the Esquimaux to the ships. The form of the Esquimaux dog is very similar to that of our shepherd's dog in England, but it is more muscular and broad-chested, owing to the constant and severe work to which he is brought up. His ears are pointed, and the aspect of the head is somewhat savage. In size a fine dog about the height of the Newfoundland breed, but broad like a mastiff in every part except the nose. The hair of the coat is in summer, as well as in winter, very long, but during the cold season a soft, downy under-covering is found, which does not appear in warm weather. Young dogs are put into harness as soon as they can walk, and being tied up, soon acquire a habit of pulling, in their attempts to recover their liberty, or to roam in quest of their mother. When about two months old, they are put into the sledge with the grown dogs, and sometimes eight or ten little ones are under the charge of some steady old animal, where, with frequent and sometimes severe beatings, they soon receive a competent education. Every dog is distinguished by a particular name, and the angry repetition of it has an effect as instantaneous as an application of the whip, which instrument is of an immense length, having a lash from eighteen to twenty-four feet, while the handle is one foot only; with this, by throwing it on one side or the other of the leader, and repeating certain words, the animals are guided or stopped. When the sledge is stopped they are all taught to lie down, by throwing the whip gently over their backs, and they will remain in this position even for hours, until their master returns to them. A walrus is frequently drawn along by three or four of these dogs, and seals are sometimes carried home in the same manner, though I have in some instances seen a dog bring home the greater part of a seal in panniers placed across his back. Cold has very little effect on them; for although the dogs at the huts slept within the snow passages, mine at the ships had no shelter, but lay alongside, with the thermometer at 42° and 44°, and with as little concern as if the weather had been mild. I found, by several experiments, that three of my dogs could draw me on a sledge, weighing one hundred pounds, at the rate of one mile in six minutes; and as a proof of the strength of a well-grown dog, my leader drew one hundred and ninety-six pounds singly, and to the same distance, in eight minutes. At another time seven of my dogs ran a mile in four minutes, drawing a heavy sledge full of men. Afterwards, in carrying stores to the Fury, one mile distant, nine dogs drew one thousand six hundred and eleven pounds in the space of nine minutes. When the dogs slackened their pace, the sight of a seal or bird was sufficient to put them instantly to their full speed; and even though none of these might be seen on the ice, the cry of 'a seal!'—'a bear!'—or 'a bird!' &c., was enough to give play to the legs and voices of the whole pack. The voice and long whip answer all the purposes of reins, and the dogs can be made to turn a corner as dexterously as horses, though not in such an orderly manner, since they are constantly fighting; and I do not recollect to have seen one receive a flogging without instantly wreaking his passion on the ears of his neighbours. The cries of the men are not more melodious than those of the animals; and their wild looks and gestures when animated, give them an appearance of devils driving wolves before them. Our dogs had eaten nothing for forty-eight hours, and could not have gone over less than seventy miles of ground; yet they returned, to all appearance, as fresh and active as when they first set out."

A Hard Lot. The unhappy condition of the Eskimo dogs under native treatment is pathetically referred to in "Cassell's Natural History," edited by Professor Duncan. The writer says "the horrible savagery of those poor wretches can hardly be wondered at; they live in a country where there is hardly a chance for them in any independent foraging expedition; they are half-starved by their masters, being fed chiefly on frozen walrus hides in the winter, and allowed to shift for themselves in the summer when their services are not required, and are in so perennial and acute a state of hunger that they are ready at any time to eat their own harness if allowed to do so. It is generally stated that they are perfectly insensible to kindness, and only to be kept in order by a liberal application of the lash, or even of a more formidable weapon; for the Eskimo, if their dogs are refractory, do not scruple to beat them about the head with a hammer, or anything else of sufficient hardness which happens to be at hand. They will even beat the poor brutes in this horrible manner until they are actually stunned. Notwithstanding the absolute dependence of the Eskimo on their dogs, little or no care is taken of them; they receive nothing in any degree approaching petting, and spend all their time in the open air. The chief use of the Eskimo dog is to draw the sledges, which are the only possible conveyances in that frozen land. In all the Arctic expeditions which have been sent out at various times, a good supply of sledge dogs has been one of the greatest desiderata, as without them it would be absolutely impossible to proceed far. No other animal would answer the purpose, both horses and cattle being quite useless in journeys over ice and snow, amongst which the pack of light, active dogs make their way with wonderful ease and safety." The Siberian dogs render equally valuable services to their masters with about an equal measure of appreciation.

The Newfoundland Dog. The dog known as the Newfoundland dog is one of the handsomest and best beloved of the dog family. He is distinct from the Labrador dog, which is more slender in make, has a sharper muzzle and is generally "black in colour with a tawny nose and a rusty spot over each eye". The Labrador dog and the Eskimo have been credited with the parentage of the Newfoundland species. At home the Newfoundland is made useful for the purpose of drawing loads, being harnessed to small carts and sleighs for carrying wood and other commodities. Abroad like the prophet who "is not without honour save in his own country", he has been found capable and worthy of much more honourable service, and his fidelity and sagacity have won for him universal esteem. He is an expert swimmer, his feet being webbed and so peculiarly adapted for the exercise. He takes to the water as though it were his natural element, and has so often carried the line to sinking ships, and rescued persons about to drown that such incidents have become quite common. The tribute paid to him by Sir Edwin Landseer, when he named his famous picture of him "a distinguished member of the humane society", was no more poetical than just. Volumes might be filled with stories of his intelligence and prowess, and it is difficult within present limits to select a due variety of characteristic anecdotes.

The Newfoundland's Generosity. One of the most marked characteristics of the Newfoundland dog is his generosity to a fallen foe. His temper is said to be uncertain, though this has been questioned by some who have had large experience of him under varying circumstances. Be this as it may, there are many stories told to his honour of his generosity to his enemies in the moment of victory. A Newfoundland dog, who had for some time treated with becoming dignity the impudence of some mongrels who were amusing themselves by snapping and snarling at his heels, suddenly turned and sent the crowd of persecutors flying in all directions, except the ringleader, who fell sprawling in the middle of the street, where he was about to receive the punishment he deserved when a cable car came dashing down the hill, right upon the dogs. The big dog saw the danger at once and sprang aside, but his enemy remained upon his back, too terrified to notice anything. The Newfoundland took in the situation, in a moment sprang back in front of the car, seized the cur in his teeth, and snatched him, still whining and begging for mercy, out of the very jaws of death. Laying him in the gutter, he gave a good-natured wag or two of his tail and went his way. Another Newfoundland much bothered by a small cur who was for ever barking at his heels, but who treated his assailant with sublime indifference, was on one occasion aroused to adopt drastic measures by receiving a bite on his leg. Seizing the cur by the loose skin of his back he carried him down to the quay of Cork and after letting him dangle over the water for a little while, dropped him into it. After watching the animal struggle with the water until nearly exhausted, the Newfoundland plunged in and rescued him. Mr. Jesse gives a fine illustration of this canine chivalry, witnessed at Donaghadee. "The one dog in this case was also a Newfoundland, and the other was a mastiff. They were both powerful dogs; and though each was good-natured when alone, they were very much in the habit of fighting when they met. One day they had a fierce and prolonged battle on the pier, from the point of which they both fell into the sea; and as the pier was long and steep, they had no means of escape but by swimming a considerable distance. Throwing water upon fighting dogs is an approved means of putting an end to their hostilities; and it is natural to suppose that two combatants of the same species tumbling themselves into the sea would have the same effect. It had; and each began to make for the land as best he could. The Newfoundland being an excellent swimmer, very speedily gained the pier, on which he stood shaking himself; but at the same time watching the motions of his late antagonist, which, being no swimmer, was struggling exhausted in the water, and just about to sink. In dashed the Newfoundland dog, took the other gently by the collar, kept his head above water, and brought him safely on shore. There was a peculiar kind of recognition between the two animals; they never fought again; they were always together: and when the Newfoundland dog had been accidentally killed by the passage of a stone waggon on the railway over him, the other languished and evidently lamented for a long time."

The Newfoundland's Perception of Danger. The quickness with which the Newfoundland will realise the danger of a situation and the promptitude with which he will devise a remedy, make him in some cases a more valuable friend in need than a man could be. Human aid would have probably been too slow in the following case related by Mr. Jesse. "In the city of Worchester, one of the principal streets leads by a gentle declivity to the river Severn. One day a child, in crossing the street, fell down in the middle of it and a horse and cart, which was descending the hill, would have passed over it, had not a Newfoundland dog rushed to the rescue of the child, caught it up in his mouth, and conveyed it in safety to the foot pavement."

The promptitude with which he will leap into the water to save the drowning, without waiting for any word of command, is another illustration of this faculty. Another case related by Mr. Jesse may be quoted. "In the year 1841, as a labourer, named Rake, in the parish of Botley, near Southampton, was at work in a gravel-pit, the top stratum gave way, and he was buried up to his neck by the great quantity of gravel which fell upon him. He was at the same time so much hurt, two of his ribs being broken, that he found it impossible to make any attempt to extricate himself from his perilous situation. Indeed, nothing could be more fearful than the prospect before him. No one was within hearing of his cries, nor was any one likely to come near the spot. He must almost inevitably have perished, had it not been for a Newfoundland dog belonging to his employer. This animal had been watching the man at his work for some days, as if he had been aware that his assistance would be required; for no particular attachment to each other had been exhibited on either side. As soon, however, as the accident occurred, the dog jumped into the pit, and commenced removing the gravel with his paws; and this he did in so vigorous and expeditious a manner, that the poor man was at length able to liberate himself, though with extreme difficulty. What an example of kindness, sensibility, and I may add reason, does this instance afford us!"

Mr. Youatt gives a remarkable illustration, also quoted by Mr. Jesse, of a Newfoundland's apparent perception of danger of quite another sort. Finding it inconvenient to keep this animal Mr. Youatt had given it to a friend, and four years passed before the dog saw his late owner again, when they met quite by chance, the two masters and the dog, on a lonely road between Wandsworth and Kingston. The dog showed every sign of pleasure at meeting his old master, but when they parted faithfully followed the new. Mr. Youatt had not proceeded far, however, when he discovered that the dog had rejoined him and was walking at his side, growling and showing every sign of anger. Looking ahead he discovered two men approaching him stealthily from behind the bushes that skirted the road. "I can scarcely say," says Mr. Youatt, "what I felt; for presently one of the scoundrels emerged from the bushes, not twenty yards from me; but he no sooner saw my companion, and heard his growling, the loudness and depth of which were fearfully increasing, than he retreated, and I saw no more of him or of his associate. My gallant defender accompanied me to the direction-post at the bottom of the hill, and there, with many a mutual and honest greeting, we parted, and he bounded away to overtake his rightful owner. We never met again; but I need not say that I often thought of him with admiration and gratitude."

The Newfoundland's Sense of Right and Wrong. A number of well authenticated stories, seem to indicate a certain sense of right and wrong as characteristic of the more intelligent dogs; of course the idea of right and wrong being in the case of animals as in the case of men, largely a matter of education. The Newfoundland dog belonging to the Rev. J. Simpson of Potterow Church, Edinburgh, already referred to, on one occasion detained a party of friends which had been entertained by the servants during their master's absence at church, by stationing himself in front of the hall door and preventing their egress until the rev. gentleman's return. Another Newfoundland dog who belonged to a grocer, and who had seen a porter hide money behind a heap of rubbish in a stable,—money which he had surreptitiously abstracted from the till,—followed an apprentice into the stable on the first opportunity, and scratching away the rubbish exposed the money to view, thus leading to the detection of the thief. It is of course easy to claim too much for actions apparently so intelligent and in estimating them coincidence has to be allowed for; but they are far too numerous to be ignored in estimating canine character. An instance is recorded of a quiet docile dog who refused to allow a visitor to leave a stable, when it was discovered that the man had secreted a bridle in his pocket.

The Newfoundland's Fidelity. Many illustrations might be given of the fidelity which the Newfoundland shows in common with other dogs, but one or two must suffice. A story is told of a dog who picked up a coin which his master had dropped from his purse, and which he kept in his mouth all day, refusing food until his master's return in the evening, when he laid it at his feet, and then attacked his dinner voraciously; another of a dog who on being sent home by his master with a key which he had inadvertently taken with him, was attacked by a dog belonging to a butcher, but who declined the combat until he had delivered the key, but immediately returned and attacking the butcher's dog killed him. In the first case the dog suffered the natural pangs of hunger rather than hazard his master's property, and in the second he postponed the gratification of his natural feeling of revenge until after the execution of his duty.

The Newfoundland under Training. The tricks to which dogs can be trained, though often amusing enough, have not the interest which attaches to the natural display of their faculties, and yet of course there is plenty of scope for the trained dog to supplement his culture by the exercise of his natural gifts, and this he often does. Perhaps one of the most remarkable of trained Newfoundland dogs, was the one possessed by Mr. McIntyre of Regent Bridge, Edinburgh. This dog was trained to perform all kinds of tricks. He would pick his master's hat out from a number of others of the same kind, or indeed almost any article of his master's from a group of similar articles. He would ring the bell to summon the servants, and if there was no bell rope in the room, find and use the hand bell with equal facility. A comb was hidden on the top of a mantel-piece in the room, and the dog required to bring it, which he almost immediately did, although in the search he found a number of articles also belonging to his master, purposely strewed around, all of which he passed over, and brought the identical comb which he was required to find, fully proving that he was not guided by the sense of smell, but that he perfectly understood what was spoken to him. One evening some gentlemen being in company, one of them accidentally dropped a shilling on the floor, which, after the most careful search, could not be found. Mr. M. seeing his dog sitting in a corner, and looking as if quite unconscious of what was passing, said to him, "Dandie, find us the shilling and you shall have a biscuit." The dog immediately jumped upon the table and laid down the shilling, which he had previously picked up without having been perceived. Mr. M. having one evening supped with a friend, on his return home could not find his boot-jack in the place where it usually lay. He then said to his dog, "Dandie, I cannot find my boot-jack,—search for it." The faithful animal, quite sensible of what had been said to him, scratched at the room-door, which his master opened. Dandie proceeded to a very distant part of the house, and returned carrying in his mouth the boot-jack, which Mr. M. then recollected to have left that morning under a sofa. A number of gentlemen, well acquainted with Dandie, were daily in the habit of giving him a penny which he took to a baker's shop and purchased bread for himself. One of these gentlemen, who lived in James' Square, when passing was accosted by Dandie, in expectation of his usual present. Mr. T. said to him, "I have not a penny with me to-day, but I have one at home." Having returned to his house some time after, he heard a noise at the door, which was opened by the servant, when in sprang Dandie to receive his penny. In a frolic Mr. T. gave him a bad one, which he, as usual, carried to the baker, who refused to take the bad coin. He immediately returned to Mr. T.'s, scratched at the door, and when the servant opened it, laid the penny down at her feet, and walked off, seemingly with the greatest contempt. Although Dandie, in general, made an immediate purchase of bread with the money which he received, the following circumstance clearly demonstrates that he possessed more prudent foresight than many who are reckoned rational beings. One Sunday, when it was very unlikely that he could have received a present of money, Dandie was observed to bring home a loaf. Mr. M. being somewhat surprised at this, desired the servant to search the room to see if any money could be found. While she was engaged in this task, the dog seemed quite unconcerned till she approached the bed, when he ran to her, and gently drew her back from it. Mr. M. then secured the dog, which kept struggling and growling while the servant went under the bed, where she found seven pence halfpenny under a bit of cloth. From that time he never could endure the girl, and was frequently observed to hide his money in a corner of a saw-pit, under the dust. When Mr. M. had company, if he desired the dog to see any one of the gentlemen home, he would walk with him till he reached his home, and then return to his master, how great soever the distance might be. Many other stories are told about Dandie but these must suffice. Of their authenticity there seems little doubt; they were recorded by Captain Brown during the lifetime of Dandie and his master.

The Sheep Dog. The shepherd dog ( Canis domesticus) rivals if not surpasses most other dogs in intelligence, though his intelligence is less general and more particular than that of other dogs, i.e., more special to his own profession and probably more due to training and culture. The principle of heredity operates conspicuously in the case of dogs, and shepherding being one of the oldest occupations of man, the shepherd's dog has probably been under culture for a longer period than any other,—hence his proficiency in his work. Buffon credited him with being "the parent stock of the whole species", and Colonel Smith with civilisation at a very early period. "The sheep dog," says Colonel Smith, "is seldom two feet high, but his make is muscular; the nose rather pointed; the ears erect; and the colour of the hair black and fulvous; the fur is rather long and rough. In great Britain, and more particularly in Scotland, the colours are more mixed with shades of brown, and the ears are often drooping at the tips. The sheep dog is not to be confused with the drover or cattle dog, which is larger and still more rugged in coat, as well as manners.

The Sheep Dog's Sagacity. The sheep dog is credited with so many stories of skill and sagacity, that those unacquainted with his habits and achievements can scarcely believe the record. He has been known to rival the St. Bernard in tracking both men and sheep who have become buried in the snow, the mastiff in defending his master's property and the Newfoundland in procuring assistance he was unable to render himself. But it is in the pursuit of his special duties that he displays the most remarkable powers; and many illustrations might be given of his extraordinary skill and fidelity. Happily for him he found in the Ettrick Shepherd an historian as well acquainted with his prowess as he was able to record its exercise; from whose writings we are able to quote several remarkable illustrations.

"My dog Sirrah," says he, "was, beyond all comparison, the best dog I ever saw: he was of a surly and unsocial temper,—disdaining all flattery, he refused to be caressed; but his attention to my commands and interests will never again, perhaps, be equalled by any of the canine race. Well as I knew him, he often astonished me; for, when hard pressed in accomplishing the task that he was put to, he had expedients of the moment that bespoke a great share of the reasoning faculty.

"About seven hundred lambs, which were once under my care at weaning time, broke up at midnight, and scampered off in three divisions across the hills, in spite of all that I and an assistant lad could do to keep them together. 'Sirrah, my man!' said I, in great affliction, 'they are awa'.' The night was so dark that I could not see Sirrah, but the faithful animal heard my words—words such as of all others were sure to set him most on the alert; and without much ado he silently set off in search of the recreant flock. Meanwhile I and my companion did not fail to do all in our power to recover our lost charge. We spent the whole night in scouring the hills for miles around, but of neither the lambs nor Sirrah could we obtain the slightest trace. It was the most extraordinary circumstance that had occurred in my pastoral life. We had nothing for it (day having dawned), but to return to our master, and inform him that we had lost his whole flock of lambs, and knew not what had become of them. On our way home, however, we discovered a body of lambs at the bottom of a deep ravine, called the Flesh Cleuch, and the indefatigable Sirrah standing in front of them, looking all around for some relief, but still standing true to his charge. The sun was then up; and when we first came in view of them, we concluded that it was one of the divisions which Sirrah had been unable to manage until he came to that commanding situation. But what was our astonishment, when we discovered by degrees that not one lamb of the whole flock was wanting! How he had got all the divisions collected in the dark, is beyond my comprehension. The charge was left entirely to himself, from midnight until the rising of the sun; and if all the shepherds in the forest had been there to have assisted him, they could not have effected it with greater propriety. All that I can farther say is, that I never felt so grateful to any creature below the sun, as I did to my honest Sirrah that morning."

The Sheep-dog's Fidelity. "The late Mr. Steel, flesher in Peebles," says James Hogg, "had a bitch whose feats in taking sheep from the neighbouring farms into the Flesh-market at Peebles, form innumerable anecdotes in that vicinity, all similar to one another. But there is one instance related of her, that combines so much sagacity with natural affection, that I do not think the history of the animal creation furnishes such another. Mr. Steel had such an implicit dependence on the attention of this animal to his orders, that, whenever he put a lot of sheep before her, he took a pride in leaving them to herself, and either remained to take a glass with the farmer of whom he had made the purchase, or took another road to look after bargains or other business. But one time he chanced to commit a drove to her charge at a place called Willenslee, without attending to her condition as he ought to have done. This farm is five miles from Peebles, over wild hills, and there is no regularly defined path to it. Whether Mr. Steel remained behind, or chose another road, I know not; but, on coming home late in the evening, he was astonished at hearing that his faithful animal had not made her appearance with the flock. He and his son, or servant, instantly prepared to set out by different paths in search of her; but, on their going out to the street, there was she coming with the drove, not one missing; and marvellous to relate, she was carrying a young pup in her mouth! She had been taken in travail on those hills; and how the poor beast had contrived to manage the drove in her state of suffering is beyond human calculation, for her road lay through sheep the whole way. Her master's heart smote him when he saw what she had suffered and effected: but she was nothing daunted; and having deposited her young one in a place of safety, she again set out full speed to the hills, and brought another and another, till she removed her whole litter one by one; but the last one was dead. The stories related of the dogs of sheep-stealers, he continues, are fairly beyond all credibility. I cannot attach credit to some of them without believing the animals to have been devils incarnate, come to the earth for the destruction both of the souls and bodies of men. I cannot mention names, for the sake of families that still remain in the country; but there have been sundry men executed, who belonged to this district of the kingdom, for that heinous crime, in my own days; and others have absconded, just in time to save their necks. There was not one of these to whom I allude who did not acknowledge his dog to be the greatest aggressor. One young man in particular, who was, I believe, overtaken by justice for his first offence, stated, that after he had folded the sheep by moonlight, and selected his number from the flock of a former master, he took them out, and set away with them towards Edinburgh. But before he had got them quite off the farm, his conscience smote him, as he said (but more likely a dread of that which soon followed), and he quitted the sheep, letting them go again to the hill. He called his dog off them; and mounting his pony, he rode away. At that time he said his dog was capering and playing around him, as if glad of having got free of a troublesome business; and he regarded him no more, till, after having rode about three miles, he thought again and again that he heard something coming up behind him. Halting, at length, to ascertain what it was, in a few minutes up came his dog with the stolen animals, driving them at a furious rate to keep up with his master. The sheep were all smoking, and hanging out their tongues, and their guide was fully as warm as they. The young man was now exceedingly troubled, for the sheep having been brought so far from home, he dreaded there would be a pursuit, and he could not get them home again before day. Resolving, at all events, to keep his hands clear of them, he corrected his dog in great wrath, left the sheep once more, and taking colley with him, rode off a second time. He had not ridden above a mile, till he perceived that his assistant had again given him the slip; and suspecting for what purpose, he was terribly alarmed as well as chagrined; for daylight now approached, and he durst not make a noise calling on his dog, for fear of alarming the neighbourhood, in a place where they were both well known. He resolved therefore to abandon the animal to himself, and take a road across the country which he was sure the other did not know, and could not follow. He took that road; but being on horseback, he could not get across the enclosed fields. He at length came to a gate, which he shut behind him, and went about half a mile farther, by a zigzag course, to a farm-house where both his sister and sweetheart lived; and at that place he remained until after breakfast time. The people of this house were all examined on the trial, and no one had either seen the sheep or heard them mentioned, save one man, who came up to the aggressor as he was standing at the stable-door, and told him that his dog had the sheep safe enough down at the Crooked Yett, and he needed not hurry himself. He answered, that the sheep were not his—they were young Mr. Thomson's, who had left them to his charge, and he was in search of a man to drive them, which made him come off his road." The fidelity of this animal cost his master his life.

The St. Bernard Dog. The St. Bernard Dog always honoured for his work's sake, resembles the Newfoundland in form, hair, colour, and size. "There is another race," says Colonel Smith, "trained to the same service, with close short hair, and more or less marked with grey, liver colour and black clouds." Bass, a famous St. Bernard, the property of Sir Thomas Dick Lauder, is thus described by him in a letter to Mr. W. H. Lizars printed in Vol. XIX of "The Naturalist's Library":—"My St. Bernard was brought home direct from the Great St. Bernard, when he was a puppy of about four or five months. His bark is tremendous; so loud, indeed, that I have often distinguished it nearly a mile off. He had been missing for some time, when, to my great joy, one of the letter-carriers brought him back; and the man's account was, that in going along a certain street, he heard his bark from the inside of a yard, and knew it immediately. He knocked at the gate, and said to the owner of the premises, 'You have got Sir Thomas Lauder's big dog.' The man denied it. 'But I know you have,' continued the letter-carrier; 'I can swear that I heard the bark of Sir Thomas's big dog; for there is no dog in or about all Edinburgh that has such a bark.' At last, with great reluctance, the man gave up the dog to the letter-carrier, who brought him home here. But though Bass's bark is so terrific, he is the best-natured and most playful dog I ever saw; so much so, indeed, that the small King Charles's spaniel, Raith, used to tyrannize over him for many months after he came here from abroad. I have seen the little creature run furiously at the great animal when gnawing a bone, who instantly turned himself submissively over on his back, with all his legs in the air, whilst Raith, seizing the bone, would make the most absurd and unavailing attempts to bestride the enormous head of his subdued companion, with the most ludicrous affectation of the terrible growling, that might bespeak the loftiest description of dog-indignation. When a dog attacks Bass in the street or road, he runs away rather than quarrel; but when compelled to fight by any perseverance in the attacking party, he throws his enemy down in a moment, and then, without biting him, he lays his whole immense bulk down upon him, till he nearly smothers him. He took a particular fancy for one of the postmen who deliver letters here, whose duty it was, besides delivering letters, to carry a letter bag from one receiving-house to another, and this bag he used to give Bass to carry. Bass always followed that man through all the villas in this neighbourhood where he had deliveries to make, and he invariably parted with him opposite to the gate of the Convent of St. Margaret's, and returned home. When our gate was shut here to prevent his following the postman, the dog always leaped a high wall to get after him. One day when the postman was ill, or detained by some accidental circumstance, he sent a man in his place. Bass went up to the man, curiously scanning his face, whilst the man rather retired from the dog, by no means liking his appearance. But as the man left the place, Bass followed him, showing strong symptoms that he was determined to have the post-bag. The man did all he could to keep possession of it. But at length Bass seeing that he had no chance of getting possession of the bag by civil entreaty, raised himself up on his hind-legs, and putting a great forepaw on each of the man's shoulders, he laid him flat on his back in the road, and quietly picking up the bag, he proceeded peaceably on his wonted way. The man, much dismayed, arose and followed the dog, making every now and then an ineffectual attempt to coax him to give up the bag. At the first house he came to, he told his fears, and the dilemma he was in; but the people comforted him, by telling him that the dog always carried the bag. Bass walked with the man to all the houses at which he delivered letters, and along the road till he came to the gate of St. Margaret's, where he dropped the bag and returned home."

The St. Bernard at Work. "The convent of the Great St. Bernard is situated near the top of the mountain known by that name, near one of the most dangerous passages of the Alps, between Switzerland and Savoy. In these regions the traveller is often overtaken by the most severe weather, even after days of cloudless beauty, when the glaciers glitter in the sunshine, and the pink flowers of the rhododendron appear as if they were never to be sullied by the tempest. But a storm suddenly comes on; the roads are rendered impassable by drifts of snow; the avalanches, which are huge loosened masses of snow or ice, are swept into the valleys, carrying trees and crags of rock before them. Benumbed with cold, weary in the search for a lost track, his senses yielding to the stupifying influence of frost which betrays the exhausted sufferer into a deep sleep, the unhappy man sinks upon the ground, and the snow-drift covers him from human sight. It is then that the keen scent and the exquisite docility of these admirable dogs are called into action. Though the perishing man lie ten or even twelve feet beneath the snow, the delicacy of smell with which they can trace him offers a chance of escape. They scratch away the snow with their feet; they set up a continued hoarse and solemn bark, which brings the monks and labourers of the convent to their assistance. To provide for the chance that the dogs, without human help, may succeed in discovering the unfortunate traveller, one of them has a flask of spirits round his neck, to which the fainting man may apply for support; and another has a cloak to cover him. These wonderful exertions are often successful; and even where they fail of restoring him who has perished, the dogs discover the body, so that it may be secured for the recognition of friends; and such is the effect of the temperature, that the dead features generally preserve their firmness for the space of two years." One of these dogs is said to have saved as many as forty lives and finally to have fallen a victim to an avalanche.

The Greyhound. The Greyhound is characterised by elegance of form and grace of movement; he has also great powers of speed and endurance, is mild and affectionate in disposition and sagacious in matters other than those connected with the chase. "The narrow, sharp head, the light half hanging ears, the long neck, the arched back, the slender yet sinewy limbs, the deep chest, showing the high development of the breathing organs, and the elevated hind quarters, says Mrs. Bowdich, all shadow forth the peculiar qualities of these dogs. Their coat has been adapted to the climate in which they originally lived: here it is smooth; but becomes more shaggy as they are from colder regions." "The Scotch Greyhound (Canis Scoticus)," she continues, "generally white, with black clouds, is said to be the most intellectual of all, and formerly to have had so good a scent as to be employed as a bloodhound. Maida, whose name is immortalized as the favourite of Sir Walter Scott, was a Scottish greyhound. The Irish is the largest of all the western breeds, and is supposed to owe this distinction to mingling with the great Danish dog. To it Ireland owes the extirpation of wolves, though it now scarcely exists itself but in name."

The greyhound is now principally bred for sporting purposes, coursing being the favourite amusement. The great speed and endurance of the dog is shown in this pastime. Mr. Jesse records several instances of dogs who have died from exhaustion rather than give up the chase, in one of which it is stated that two dogs and a hare were found dead within a few yards of each other after a run of several miles. Mr. Daniel in his rural sports gives an instance in which a brace of greyhounds chased a hare a distance of four miles in twelve minutes.

The Greyhound's Affection. Washington Irving tells the following story of a greyhound's affection for his master. "An officer named St. Leger, who was imprisoned in Vincennes (near Paris) during the wars of St. Bartholomew, wished to keep with him a greyhound that he had brought up, and which was much attached to him; but they harshly refused him this innocent pleasure, and sent away the greyhound to his house in the Rue des Lions Saint Paul. The next day the greyhound returned alone to Vincennes, and began to bark under the windows of the tower, where the officer was confined. St. Leger approached, looked through the bars, and was delighted again to see his faithful hound, who began to jump and play a thousand gambols to show her joy. He threw a piece of bread to the animal, who ate it with great good will; and, in spite of the immense wall which separated them, they breakfasted together like two friends. This friendly visit was not the last. Abandoned by his relations, who believed him dead, the unfortunate prisoner received the visits of his greyhound only, during four years' confinement. Whatever weather it might be, in spite of rain or snow, the faithful animal did not fail a single day to pay her accustomed visit. Six months after his release from prison St. Leger died. The faithful greyhound would no longer remain in the house; but on the day after the funeral returned to the castle of Vincennes, and it is supposed she was actuated by a motive of gratitude. A jailor of the outer court had always shown great kindness to this dog, which was as handsome as affectionate. Contrary to the custom of people of that class, this man had been touched by her attachment and beauty, so that he facilitated her approach to see her master, and also insured her a safe retreat. Penetrated with gratitude for this service, the greyhound remained the rest of her life near the benevolent jailor. It was remarked, that even while testifying her zeal and gratitude for her second master, one could easily see that her heart was with the first. Like those who, having lost a parent, a brother, or a friend, come from afar to seek consolation by viewing the place which they inhabited, this affectionate animal repaired frequently to the tower where St. Leger had been imprisoned, and would contemplate for hours together the gloomy window from which her dear master had so often smiled to her, and where they had so frequently breakfasted together."

The Lurcher. "The rough, large-boned, ill-looking Lurcher," says Mrs. Bowdich, "is said to have descended from the rough greyhound and the shepherd's dog. It is now rare; but there are some of its sinister-looking mongrel progeny still to be seen. They always bear the reputation of being poachers' dogs, and are deeply attached to their owners. They have a fine scent; and a man confessed to Mr. Bewick, that he could, with a pair of lurchers, procure as many rabbits as he pleased. They never give tongue, but set about their work silently and cautiously, and hunt hares and partridges, driving the latter into the nets of the unlawful sportsmen." He is a dog to whom a bad name has been given, and who has found a bad name but one step from hanging.

The Bloodhound. The Bloodhound (Canis Sanguinarius) whether because less needed now than formerly or not, is less cultivated and is therefore more rare. Mr. Bell's description of the breed is as follows:—"They stand twenty-eight inches high at the shoulder; the muzzle broad and full; the upper lip large and pendulous; the vertex of the head protuberant; the expression stern, thoughtful, and noble; the breast broad; the limbs strong and muscular; and the original colour a deep tan, with large black clouds. They are silent when following their scent; and in this respect differ from other hounds, who are generally gifted with fine deep voices. Numbers, under the name of sleuth-hounds, used to be kept on the Borders; and kings and troopers, perhaps equally marauders, have in olden times found it difficult to evade them. The noble Bruce had several narrow escapes from them; and the only sure way to destroy their scent was to spill blood upon the track. In all the common routine of life they are good-natured and intelligent, and make excellent watch-dogs. A story is related of a nobleman, who, to make a trial whether a young hound was well instructed, desired one of his servants to walk to a town four miles off, and then to a market town three miles from thence. The dog, without seeing the man he was to pursue, followed him by the scent to the above-mentioned places, notwithstanding the multitude of market-people that went along the same road, and of travellers that had occasion to come; and when the bloodhound came to the market town, he passed through the streets without taking notice of any of the people there, and ceased not till he had gone to the house where the man he sought rested himself, and where he found him in an upper room, to the wonder of those who had accompanied him in this pursuit."

The Scent of the Bloodhound. A strong characteristic of the Bloodhound is of course his remarkable scent for blood.

"Bloodhounds," says Bingley, "were formerly used in certain districts lying between England and Scotland, that were much infested by robbers and murderers; and a tax was laid on the inhabitants for keeping and maintaining a certain number of these animals. Some few are yet kept in the northern parts of the kingdom, and in the lodges of the royal forests, where they are used in pursuit of deer that have been previously wounded. They are also sometimes employed in discovering deer-stealers, whom they infallibly trace by the blood that issues from the wounds of their victims. A very extraordinary instance of this occurred in the New Forest, in the year 1810, and was related to me by the Right Hon. G. H. Rose. A person, in getting over a stile into a field near the Forest, remarked that there was blood upon it. Immediately afterwards he recollected that some deer had been killed, and several sheep stolen in the neighbourhood; and that this might possibly be the blood of one that had been killed in the preceding night. The man went to the nearest lodge to give information; but the keeper being from home, he was under the necessity of going to Rhinefield Lodge, which was at a considerable distance. Toomer, the under-keeper, went with him to the place, accompanied by a bloodhound. The dog, when brought to the spot, was laid on the scent; and after following for about a mile the track which the depredator had taken, he came at last to a heap of furze fagots belonging to the family of a cottager. The woman of the house attempted to drive the dog away, but was prevented; and on the fagots being removed a hole was discovered in the ground, which contained the body of a sheep that had recently been killed, and also a considerable quantity of salted meat. The circumstance which renders this account the more remarkable is, that the dog was not brought to the scent until more than sixteen hours had elapsed after the man had carried away the sheep."

The Stag-Hound. "The stag hound," says Colonel Smith, "was a large stately animal, equal or little less than the blood hound, and originally, like that race, slow, sure, cautious and steady." "The modern hound is perhaps still handsomer, though somewhat smaller; and the breed having been crossed with the fox hound is now much faster." The stag hunt having declined in public favour they have ceased to be bred in packs for hunting purposes.

A Stag-Hunt. "Many years since," says Captain Brown, "a very large stag was turned out of Whinfield Park in the county of Westmoreland, and was pursued by the hounds till, by accident or fatigue, the whole pack was thrown out with the exception of two dogs which continued the chase. Its length is uncertain, but the chase was seen at Red Kirk near Annan in Scotland, distant by the post road about forty-six miles. The stag returned to the park from which he had set out, so that considering the circuitous route which it pursued, it is supposed to have run over not less than one hundred and twenty miles. It was its greatest and last achievement, for it leapt the wall of the park and immediately expired; the hounds were also found dead at no great distance from the wall which they had been unable to leap. An inscription was placed on a tree in the park, in memory of the animals, and the horns of the stag, the largest ever seen in that part of the country, were placed over it."

The Fox-Hound. "In giving a description of the various breeds of dogs," says Mr. Jesse, "everyone must be aware, that by crossing and recrossing them many of those we now see have but little claim to originality. The fox-hound, the old Irish wolf-dog, and the Colley or shepherd's dog, may perhaps be considered as possessing the greatest purity of blood." Mr. Jesse then refers to a picture of a pack of hounds in Wilkinson's "Manners and Customs of the Egyptians," a picture which was copied from a painting found in one of the tombs of the Pharaohs, in which "every individual hound is characteristic of the present breed." If this be so, as Mr. Jesse says, "this breed must be considered of a much more ancient date than is generally supposed." The Fox-hound is described by Colonel Smith as "somewhat lower at the shoulders and more slenderly built" than the stag-hound. His colour is "white, but commonly marked with larger clouds of black and tan, one on each side the head, covering the ears, the same on each flank and one at the root of the tail." The Fox-hound has great strength and endurance, and will run ten hours in pursuit of the fox.

The Fox-hound's Tenacity. Many extraordinary stories are told of the Fox-hound's ardour for sport. According to Mr. Jesse, a bitch was on one occasion taken in labour while in the hunting field, and after giving birth to a pup took it in its mouth and pursued the chase. Another bitch, whose eye had been struck from the socket accidentally by the lash of the whipper-in who did not believe her challenge, pursued the fox alone for a great distance with her eye pendant, until the rest of the pack came up and the fox was killed. Perhaps one of the most remarkable instances of tenacity of purpose in an animal is that quoted by Mr. Jesse from the supplement to Mr. Daniel's "Rural Sports." "The circumstance took place in the year 1808, in the counties of Inverness and Perth, and perhaps surpasses any length of pursuit known in the annals of hunting. On the 8th of June in that year, a fox and hound were seen near Dunkeld in Perthshire, on the high road, proceeding at a slow trotting pace. The dog was about fifty yards behind the fox, and each was so fatigued as not to gain on the other. A countryman very easily caught the fox, and both it and the dog were taken to a gentleman's house in the neighbourhood, where the fox died. It was afterwards ascertained that the hound belonged to the Duke of Gordon, and that the fox was started on the morning of the 4th of June, on the top of those hills called Monaliadh, which separate Badenoch from Fort Augustus. From this it appeared that the chase lasted four days, and that the distance traversed from the place where the fox was unkennelled to the spot where it was caught, without making any allowances for doubles, crosses, etc., and as the crow flies, exceeded seventy miles."

The Harrier. "The Harrier," says Colonel Smith, "so called from being usually applied to hare hunting is smaller than the fox-hound, not exceeding eighteen inches at the shoulder. It is entirely an artificial breed and is often confounded with the beagle."

The Beagle. The Beagle is called by Mr. Jesse, "a Fox-hound in miniature," and he adds nothing can well be more perfect than the shape of these small dogs. "In Queen Elizabeth's reign," says Colonel Smith, "the fanciers bred a race so small, that a complete cry of them could be carried out to the field in a pair of panniers. That princess had little singing beagles which could be placed in a man's glove! At present they are about twelve or fourteen inches at the shoulders, stout and compact in make, with long ears, and either marked with a bright streak or spot of white about the neck on a dark brown coat, or white with spots like a harrier, of black and red. They are slow but persevering, and are sufficiently sure of killing their game."

The Dalmatian Dog. Colonel Smith places the Dalmatian dog with the hounds on the ground of similarity of general structure. Elegant in form and beautiful in making it is said to be less keen in scent and less sagacious than other dogs. Sagacious or not, it was one of these dogs that Lord Maynard found awaiting him at his house in England after having lost him in France.

The Turnspit. "The Turnspit," says Captain Brown, "derived its name from the service in which it was engaged before the invention of machinery to do the same work, and, what is remarkable, now that the office is extinct, so also has nearly become the species which used to perform it." "I have now in my kitchen," said the Duke de Laincourt, to M. Descartes, "two turnspits which take their turns regularly every other day in the wheel: one of them, not liking his employment, hid himself on the day he should have wrought, when his companion was forced to mount the wheel in his stead; but crying and wagging his tail, he intimated that those in attendance should first follow him. He immediately conducted them to a garret, where he dislodged the idle dog, and killed him immediately." Another instance is recorded by Captain Brown as follows: "When the cook had prepared the meat for roasting, he found that the dog which should have wrought the spit had disappeared. He attempted to employ another, but it bit his leg and fled. Soon after, however, the refractory dog entered the kitchen driving before him the truant turnspit, which immediately of its own accord went into the wheel." It is easy to see from these stories that the occupation was not a popular one and it is well that it is no longer a necessary one.

The Pointer. The pointer (Canis avicularis) as resembling the race of hounds, more than any other of the shooting or gun dogs is placed next to them in the classification of Colonel Smith, who says: "In their present qualities of standing fixed and pointing to game, we see the result of a long course of severe training; and it is a curious fact, that by a succession of generations having been constantly educated to this purpose, it has become almost innate, and young dogs of the true breed point with scarcely any instruction: this habit is so firm in some that the late Mr. Gilpin is reported to have painted a brace of pointers while in the act, and that they stood an hour and a quarter without moving." A smooth dog, resembling the fox-hound in his markings, though sometimes entirely black, the pointer is used by sportsmen to point them to the spot where the game is to be found. "It ranges the fields," says Mr. Wood, "until it scents the hare or partridge lying close on the ground. It then remains still as if carved in stone, every limb fixed, and the tail pointing straight behind it. In this attitude it remains until the gun is discharged, reloaded, and the sportsman has reached the place where the bird sprang."

The Pointer as a Sportsman. The pointer is a keen sportsman and will "point" without tiring while worthily supported by the gun, but many stories are told of his disgust at a bad shot and his refusal to "point" for unskilful sportsmen. The following amusing story is told by Captain Brown and is quoted as follows by Mr. Jesse: "A gentleman, on his requesting the loan of a pointer-dog from a friend, was informed by him that the dog would behave very well so long as he could kill his birds; but if he frequently missed them, it would run home and leave him. The dog was sent, and the following day was fixed for trial; but, unfortunately, his new master was a remarkably bad shot. Bird after bird rose and was fired at, but still pursued its flight untouched, till, at last, the pointer became careless, and often missed his game. As if seemingly willing, however, to give one chance more, he made a dead stop at a fern-bush, with his nose pointed downward, the fore-foot bent, and his tail straight and steady. In this position he remained firm till the sportsman was close to him, with both barrels cocked, then moving steadily forward for a few paces, he at last stood still near a bunch of heather, the tail expressing the anxiety of the mind by moving regularly backwards and forwards. At last out sprang a fine old blackcock. Bang, bang, went both barrels, but the bird escaped unhurt. The patience of the dog was now quite exhausted; and, instead of dropping to charge, he turned boldly round, placed his tail between his legs, gave one howl, long and loud, and set off as fast as he could to his own home." The pointer has been known to lie down without bidding beside game which has been dropped from a bag, after a long day's shooting, and watch it faithfully until relieved on the following day, when the missing birds were searched for and found.

The Setter. The Setter (Canis Index) divides with the pointer the duty of attending the sportsman on his shooting expeditions. According to Captain Brown he was "originally derived from a cross between the Spanish pointer and the large water spaniel and was justly celebrated for his fine scent." Many crossings have considerably varied the breed, of which the Irish is now considered purer than the English and Scotch breeds. "In figure," says Colonel Smith, "they participate of the pointer and the Spaniel, though larger than the latter. In England they are white, or white with black or brown marks." They are intelligent, affectionate and docile, and often show great sagacity outside the domain of sport.

The Scent of the Setter. Col. Hutchinson says, "I was partridge-shooting the season before last with an intimate friend. The air was soft, and there was a good breeze. We came upon a large turnip-field, deeply trenched on account of its damp situation. A white setter, that habitually carried a lofty head, drew for awhile, and then came to a point. We got up to her. She led us across some ridges, when her companion, a jealous dog (a pointer), which had at first backed correctly, most improperly pushed on in front, but, not being able to acknowledge the scent, went off, clearly imagining the bitch was in error. She, however, held on, and in beautiful style brought us up direct to a covey. My friend and I agreed that she must have been but little, if at all, less than one hundred yards off when she first winded the birds; and it was clear to us that they could not have been running, for the breeze came directly across the furrows, and she had led us in the wind's eye. We thought the point the more remarkable, as it is generally supposed that the strong smell of turnips diminishes a dog's power of scenting birds."

The Setter's Sagacity. Mr. Huet tells the following story of the sagacity of the setter. "The gamekeeper had, on one of the short days of December, shot at and wounded a deer. Hoping to run him down before night, he instantly put the dog upon the track, which followed it at full speed, and soon was out of sight. At length it grew dark, and the gamekeeper returned home, thinking he should find the setter arrived there before him; but he was disappointed, and became apprehensive that his dog might have lost himself, or fallen a prey to some ravenous animal. The next morning, however, we were all greatly rejoiced to see him come running into the yard, whence he directly hastened to the door of my apartment, and, on being admitted, ran, with gestures expressive of solicitude and eagerness, to a corner of the room where guns were placed. We understood the hint, and, taking the guns, followed him. He led us not by the road which he himself had taken out of the wood, but by beaten paths half round it, and then by several wood-cutters' tracks in different directions, to a thicket, where, following him a few paces, we found the deer which he had killed. The dog seems to have rightly judged that we should have been obliged to make our way with much difficulty through almost the whole length of the wood, in order to come to the deer in a straight direction, and he therefore led us a circuitous but open and convenient road. Between the legs of the deer, which he had guarded during the night against the beasts of prey that might otherwise have seized upon it, he had scratched a hole in the snow, and filled it with dry leaves for his bed. The extraordinary sagacity which he had displayed upon this occasion rendered him doubly valuable to us, and it therefore caused us very serious regret when, in the ensuing summer, the poor animal went mad, possibly in consequence of his exposure to the severe frost of that night, and it became necessary for the gamekeeper to shoot him, which he could not do without shedding tears. He said he would willingly have given his best cow to save him; and I confess myself that I would not have hesitated to part with my best horse upon the same terms."

The Spaniel. There are many varieties of the Spaniel of which the Water Spaniel, the King Charles Spaniel, the Blenheim and the Maltese Spaniels are the best known. The Water Spaniels figure on some of the later monuments of Rome and so prove their antiquity. Colonel Smith describes the Spaniel as a small setter, with silky hair and fine long villous ears; black, brown pied, liver coloured, white and black-and-white, the water spaniel differing from the other species chiefly in his readiness to hunt and swim in the water and the hair being somewhat harder to the touch. The spaniel has a great affection for his master and is never tired of testifying his appreciation of his kindness. Colonel Smith mentions a dog allied to the spaniel race, who at the time of his writing (April 1840) had been lying on the grave of his mistress for three days, refusing all food, and was on that day being forcibly removed. Spaniels are often very intelligent, displaying the same sagacity as other and larger dogs and in the same way. Mr. Jesse mentions a King Charles spaniel who was locked by his master in a room in Vere St. Clare Market, one afternoon about half past five, while he went with his family to Drury Lane theatre. About eight o'clock in the evening the dog escaped his confinement and found his way to the theatre where he discovered his master in the midst of the pit, though it was crowded at the time. The Blenheim spaniel is similar to the King Charles breed, though somewhat different in its markings, fuller about the muzzle and shorter in the back. Blenheims have been known to show great intelligence and affection. A story is told of one who upon being attacked by two cats, obtained the assistance of a third cat, waylaid his enemies one at a time and, with the assistance of his friend, taught them better manners. The Maltese dog is another favourite species, much admired and petted by ladies.

The Sagacity of the Water Spaniel. Captain Brown gives the following from a letter written by a gentleman at Dijon in France, to his friend in London, dated August 15, 1764:

"Since my arrival here a man has been broken on the wheel, with no other proof to condemn him than that of a water-spaniel. The circumstances attending it being so very singular and striking, I beg leave to communicate them to you. A farmer, who had been to receive a sum of money, was waylaid, robbed, and murdered, by two villains. The farmer's dog returned with all speed to the house of the person who had paid the money, and expressed such amazing anxiety that he would follow him, pulling him several times by the sleeve and skirt of the coat, that, at length, the gentleman yielded to his importunity. The dog led him to the field, a little from the roadside, where the body lay. From thence the gentleman went to a public-house, in order to alarm the country. The moment he entered, (as the two villains were there drinking), the dog seized the murderer by the throat, and the other made his escape. This man lay in prison three months, during which time they visited him once a-week with the spaniel, and though they made him change his clothes with other prisoners, and always stand in the midst of a crowd, yet did the animal always find him out, and fly at him. On the day of trial, when the prisoner was at the bar, the dog was let loose in the court-house, and in the midst of some hundreds he found him out (though dressed entirely in new clothes), and would have torn him to pieces had he been allowed; in consequence of which he was condemned, and at the place of execution he confessed the fact."

The Terrier. There are many varieties of terrier including numerous celebrated breeds. The English, Scotch, Skye, Bull and Fox terriers being the best known. Innumerable stories of the intelligence and sagacity of the various breeds might be told if space permitted, but it must suffice to say that for sportsmanlike qualities, for general intelligence and sagacity, and for affection for his master, the terrier of whatever breed will hold his own against any other dog. Dogs are said to have natural antipathies, and that of the Bull-dog for the bull is an obvious illustration. An equal antipathy is shown by the English terrier for the rat and by the Fox-terrier for the cat, though the latter is perhaps as much a matter of education as of nature. Terriers are, however, among the best known of dogs and therefore need the less description.

The Mastiff. The Mastiff is said to be of an original breed indigenous to England, whence some were exported to Italy in the days of the Roman emperors. The breed has since been crossed by stag and blood hounds and the present is a magnificent animal of great power and noble character. The ancient breed was brindled yellow and black, the present is usually deeper or lighter buff with-dark muzzle and ears. The mastiff is sometimes twenty-nine or thirty inches in height at the shoulder.

The Mastiff's Fidelity. The Mastiff is the best of watch dogs, for he brings an intelligence to bear upon his duty which is in the highest degree surprising. He has been known to walk by the side of an intending thief "forbidding his laying hands upon any article, yet abstaining from doing him any bodily harm, and suffering his escape over the walls," but leaving his master's property intact. A mastiff who had been left by his master, who was a sweep, in charge of his bag of soot in a narrow street in Southampton, refused to leave it either for coaxings or threats, and rather than desert his duty allowed himself to be run over and killed.

The Mastiff's Discrimination. The mastiff has a powerful scent, and remarkable skill in discovering the lost property of his master. Captain Brown gives the following extract from a letter from St. Germains: "An English gentleman some time ago came to our Vauxhall with a large mastiff, which was refused admittance, and the gentleman left him in the care of the body-guards, who are placed there. The Englishman, some time after he had entered, returned to the gate and informed the guards that he had lost his watch, telling the sergeant, that if he would permit him to take in the dog, he would soon discover the thief. His request being granted, the gentleman made motions to the dog of what he had lost, which immediately ran about amongst the company, and traversed the gardens, till at last he laid hold of a man. The gentleman insisted that this person had got his watch; and on being searched, not only his watch, but six others, were discovered in his pockets. What is more remarkable, the dog possessed such a perfection of instinct as to take his master's watch from the other six, and carry it to him."