* * * * *

Mr. John Lawrence, says that a servant, discharged by a sporting country gentleman, broke into his stables by night, and cut off the ears and tail of a favourite hunter. As soon as it was discovered, a bloodhound was brought into the stable, who at once detected the scent of the miscreant, and traced it more than twenty miles. He then stopped at a door, whence no power could move him. Being at length admitted, he ran to the top of the house, and, bursting open the door of a garret, found the object that he sought in bed, and would have torn him to pieces, had not the huntsman, who had followed him on a fleet horse, rushed up after him.

* * * * *

Colonel Hamilton Smith says, that he was favoured with the following interesting notice of this dog from Sir Walter Scott, and which agrees exactly with some I have seen bred by Lord Bagot at Blithfield in Staffordshire, and some belonging to Her present Majesty.

"The only sleuth-hound I ever saw was one which was kept at Keeldar Castle. He was like the Spanish pointer, but much stronger, and untameably fierce,—colour, black and tawny, long pendulous ears,—had a deep back, broad nostrils, and was strongly made, something like the old English mastiff, now so rare."

* * * * *

Wanley, in his "Wonders of the Little World," relates the following anecdote:—

"Anno Dom. 867.—Lothbroke, of the blood-royal of Denmark, and father to Humbar and Hubba, entered with his hawk into a boat alone, and by tempest was driven upon the coast of Norfolk in England; where being found, he was detained, and presented to Edmund, at that time King of the East Angles. The king entertained him at his court; and perceiving his singular dexterity and activity in hawking and hunting, bore him particular favour. By this means he fell into the envy of Berick, the king's falconer, who one day, as they hunted together, privately murdered and threw him into a bush. It was not long before he was missed at court. When no tidings could be heard of him, his dog, who had continued in the wood with the corpse of his master, till famine forced him thence, at sundry times came to court, and fawned on the king; so that the king, suspecting some ill matter, at length followed the trace of the hound, and was led by him to the place where Lothbroke lay. Inquisition was made; and by circumstance of words, and other suspicions, Berick, the king's falconer, was pronounced to be his murderer. The king commanded him to be set alone in Lothbroke's boat, and committed to the mercy of the sea, by the working of which he was carried to the same coast of Denmark from whence Lothbroke came. The boat was well known, and the occupant, Berick, examined by torments. To save himself, he asserted that Lothbroke had been slain by King Edmund. And this was the first occasion of the Danes' arrival in this land."

A planter had fixed his residence at the foot of the Blue Mountains, in the back settlements of America. One day the youngest of his family, a child of about four years old, disappeared. The father, becoming alarmed, explored the woods in every direction, but without success. On the following day the search was renewed, during which a native Indian happened to pass, accompanied by his dog, one of the true bloodhound breed. Being informed of the distress of the planter, he requested that the shoes and stockings last worn by the child might be brought to him. He made the dog smell to them, and patted him. The intelligent animal seemed to comprehend all about it, for he began immediately to sniff around. The Indian and his dog then plunged into the wood. They had not been there long before the dog began to bay; he thought that he had hit upon the scent, and presently afterwards, being assured of it, he uttered a louder and more expressive note, and darted off at full speed into the forest. The Indian followed, and after a considerable time met his dog bounding back, his noble countenance beaming with animation. The hound turned again into the wood, his master not being far behind, and they found the child lying at the foot of a tree, fatigued and exhausted, but otherwise unhurt.

Some of these dogs are kept by the keepers in the royal parks and forests, and are used to trace wounded deer. An officer in the 1st Life Guards has two noble dogs of this description, for one of which, I am informed, he gave fifty pounds. In fact, they are by no means uncommon in England. One distinguishing trait of purity in the breed is the colour, which is almost invariably a reddish tan, progressively darkening to the upper part, with a mixture of black upon the back.

* * * * *

"In the Spanish West India Islands," says Bingley, "there are officers called chasseurs, kept in continual employment. The business of these men is to traverse the country with their dogs, for the purpose of pursuing and taking up all persons guilty of murder, or other crimes; and no activity on the part of the offenders will enable them to escape. The following is a very remarkable instance, which happened not many years ago.

"A fleet from Jamaica, under convoy to Great Britain, passing through the Gulf of Mexico, beat upon the north side of Cuba. One of the ships, manned with foreigners (chiefly renegado Spaniards), in standing in with the land at night, was run on shore. The officers, and the few British seamen on board, were murdered, and the vessel was plundered by the renegadoes. The part of the coast on which the vessel was stranded being wild and unfrequented, the assassins retired with their booty to the mountains, intending to penetrate through the woods to some remote settlements on the southern side, where they hoped to secure themselves, and elude all pursuit. Early intelligence of the crime had, however, been conveyed to Havanna. The assassins were pursued by a detachment of the Chasseurs del Rey, with their dogs; and in the course of a very few days they were every one apprehended and brought to justice.

"The dogs carried out by the Chasseurs del Rey are all perfectly broken in. On coming up with the fugitive, they bark at him till he stops; they then crouch near him, terrifying him with a ferocious growling if he attempts to stir. In this position they continue barking, to give notice to the chasseurs, who come up and secure their prisoner.

"Each chasseur can only hunt with two dogs. These people live with their dogs, and are inseparable from them. At home the animals are kept chained; and when walking out with their masters, they are never unmuzzled nor let out of ropes, but for attack.

"Bloodhounds 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. But as the arm of justice is now extended over every part of the country, and as there are now no secret recesses where villany can be concealed, their services in this respect are become no longer necessary.

"Some few of these dogs, however, 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."

* * * * *

An old writer—the author of "The History of the Buccaneers"—though full of prejudice against the Indians, thus describes some of the atrocities practised by the Spaniards:—

"The Spaniards having possessed themselves of these isles (South America), found them peopled with Indians, a barbarous people, sensual and brutish, hating all labour, and only inclined to killing and making war against their neighbours; not out of ambition, but only because they agreed not with themselves in some common terms of language; and perceiving that the dominion of the Spaniards laid great restrictions upon their lazy and brutish customs, they conceived an irreconcileable hatred against them, but especially because they saw them take possession of their kingdoms and dominions. Hereupon they made against them all the resistance they could, everywhere opposing their designs to the utmost; and the Spaniards, finding themselves cruelly hated by the Indians, and nowhere secure from their treacheries, resolved to extirpate and ruin them, since they could neither tame them by civility nor conquer them by the sword. But the Indians, it being their custom to make the woods their chief places of defence, at present made these their refuge whenever they fled from the Spaniards: hereupon those first conquerors of the New World made use of dogs to range and search the intricate thickets of woods and forests for those their implacable and unconquerable enemies; thus they forced them to leave their old refuge and submit to the sword, seeing no milder usage would do it: hereupon they killed some of them, and quartering their bodies, placed them in the highways, that others might take warning from such a punishment. But this severity proved of ill consequence, for instead of frightening them, and reducing them to civility, they conceived such horror of the Spaniards, that they resolved to detest and fly their sight for ever; hence the greatest part died in caves and subterraneous places of woods and mountains, in which places I myself have often seen great numbers of human bones."

* * * * *

It has been already stated, that in the West Indies bloodhounds were employed to hunt the runaway blacks. I had one of these Cuban bloodhounds given to me a few years ago, and finding him somewhat more ferocious than I liked, I made a present of him to a keeper in the neighbourhood. He was put into a kennel with other dogs, and soon killed some of them. Keepers, however, in going their rounds at night, are frequently accompanied by bloodhounds, and poachers are said to have a great dread of them.



THE TERRIER.

"Little favourite! rest thee here, With the tribute of a tear!

* * * *

Thou hast fondled at my feet, Greeted those I lov'd to greet; When in sorrow or in pain, On my bosom thou hast lain. I have seen thy little eye Full as if with sympathy."

There are so many varieties of terriers, and so many celebrated breeds of these dogs, that it would be a difficult task to give a separate account of each. Some have a cross of the bull-dog; and these, perhaps, are unequalled for courage and strength of jaw. In the latter quality they are superior to the bull-dog. Then there is the pepper-and-mustard breed, the Isle of Sky, the rough and smooth English terrier, and a peculiar breed, of which my own sensible little Judy, now reposing at my feet, is one, besides some others.

Perhaps there is no breed of dogs which attach themselves so strongly to man as the terrier. They are his companions in his walks, and their activity and high spirit enable them to keep up with a horse through a long day's journey. Their fidelity to their master is unbounded, and their affection for him unconquerable. When he is ill they will repose for hours by the side of his bed, as still as a mother watching over a sick and slumbering child; and when he is well they will frisk around him, as if their pleasure was renewed with his returning health. How well do I remember this to have been the case with my faithful old dog Trim! Nothing would induce him to make the slightest noise till I called him on my bed, when I awoke in the morning. Night or day, he never left me for many years; and when at last I was obliged to take a journey without him, his life fell a sacrifice to his affection for me. Alas, poor Trim!

This breed of dogs, the true English terrier, shows an invincible ardour in all that he is required to do, as well as persevering fortitude. In drawing badgers and foxes from their holes, the severe bites of these animals only seem to animate them to greater exertions; and they have been known to suffer themselves to be killed by the former sooner than give over the unequal contest.

The vignette at the end of this notice represents a favourite wire-haired terrier of mine, called Peter, well known for many years at Hampton Court. He had wonderful courage and perseverance, and was the best dog to hunt rabbits in thick hedge-rows I ever met with. He was also a capital water-dog; and he was frequently enticed by some of the officers quartered at Hampton Court to accompany them to the neighbouring lock of the river Thames, in which an unfortunate duck was to be hunted. I was assured that on these occasions Peter distinguished himself greatly, diving after the duck whenever it dived, and beating all the other dogs by his energy and perseverance. Peter was a general favourite, and perhaps this was partly owing to his being a great pickle. He was always getting into scrapes. Twice he broke either his shoulder-bone or his leg by scrambling up a ladder. He was several times nearly killed by large dogs, of which he was never known to show the slightest fear; and with those of about his own size he would fight till he died. He has killed sixty rats in a barn in about as many minutes; and he was an inveterate foe to cats. I remember once taking him with me on a rabbit-ferreting excursion. Before the ferrets were put in the holes, I made Peter quite aware that he was not to touch them; and he was so sensible a dog that there was no difficulty in doing this, although it was the first time he had seen a ferret. If a rabbit bolted from the hole he was watching, he killed it in an instant; but when the ferret made its appearance, Peter retreated a step or two, showing his teeth a little as if he longed to attack it. Towards the end of the day I had gone to a little distance, leaving Peter watching a hole. Presently I heard a squeak, and on turning round I saw the ferret dead, and Peter standing over it, looking exceedingly ashamed at what he had done, and perfectly conscious that he had disobeyed orders. The temptation, however, was too great for him to resist. Peter at last got into bad company, for he suffered himself to be enticed by the ostlers and others into the taps at Hampton Court, and they indulged him in his fondness for killing vermin and cats. He was a dog of extraordinary sense. I once gave him some milk and water at my breakfast, which was too hot. He afterwards was in the habit of testing the heat by dipping one of his paws into the basin, preferring rather to scald his foot than to run the risk of burning his tongue. He had other peculiarities. When I mounted my horse and wanted him to follow me, he would come a little distance, and then all at once pretend to be lame. The more I called the lamer he became. He was, in fact, aware of my long rides, and was too lazy to follow me. He played this trick very frequently. If I called him while I had my snuff-box in my hand, he would come to me, pretending to sneeze the whole of the time. I have said so much about Peter, because he was a good specimen of one of the small breed of terriers.

Terriers, more than any other breed of dogs, live so much in our rooms, and are so generally our companions during our walks and rides, that they naturally imbibe a great degree of sensibility of the least look or word of their master. This very sensibility makes them extremely jealous of any preference or attention shown by their master to another dog. I had an old terrier who never could bear to see me do this. He showed it not only by his countenance in a remarkable way, but would fall upon any dog he saw me caress. Mons. Blaze gives an instance of a dog having killed a young child, who had been in the habit of fondling a dog belonging to the same owner, and showing fear and dislike of him. Another dog was so strongly attached to his master that he was miserable when he was absent. When the gentleman married, the dog seemed to feel a diminution of affection towards him, and showed great uneasiness. Finding, however, that his new mistress grew fond of him, he became perfectly happy. Somewhat more than a year after this they had a child. There was now a decided inquietude about the dog, and it was impossible to avoid noticing that he felt himself miserable. The attention paid to the child increased his wretchedness; he loathed his food, and nothing could content him, though he was treated on this account with the utmost tenderness. At last he hid himself in the coal-cellar, and every means were used to induce him to return, but all in vain. He was deaf to entreaty, rejected all kindness, refused to eat, and continued firm in his resolution, till exhausted nature yielded to death.

I have seen so much of the sensitiveness and jealousy of dogs, owing to their unbounded affection for their masters, that I cannot doubt the truth of this anecdote, which was related by Mr. Dibdin. A lady had a favourite terrier, whose jealousy of any attentions shown to her by strangers was so great, that in her walks he guarded her with the utmost care, and would not suffer any one to touch her. The following anecdote will prove the unchanging affection of these dogs. It was communicated to me by the best and most amiable man I have ever met with, either in public or private life.

He had a small terrier, which was much attached to him. On leaving this country for America, he placed the dog under the care of his sister, who resided in London. The dog at first was inconsolable, and could scarcely be persuaded to eat anything. At the end of three years his owner returned, and upon knocking at the door of his sister's house, the dog recognised the well-known knock, ran down-stairs with the utmost eagerness, fondled his master with the greatest affection; and when he was in the sitting-room, the faithful animal jumped upon the piano-forte, that he might get as near to him as possible. The dog's attachment remained to the last moment of his life. He was taken ill, and was placed in his master's dressing-room on one of his cloaks. When he could scarcely move, his kind protector met him endeavouring to crawl to him up the stairs. He took the dog in his arms, placed him on his cloak, when the dog gave him a look of affection which could not be mistaken, and immediately died. There can, I think, be no doubt but that this affectionate animal, in his endeavour to get up the steps to his master, was influenced by sensations of love and gratitude, which death alone could extinguish, and which the approach of death prompted him to show. How charming are these instances of the affection of dogs to a kind master! and how forcibly may we draw forth the strongest testimonials of love from them, by treating them as they deserve to be treated! Few people sufficiently appreciate the attachment, fidelity, and sagacity of these too-often persecuted animals, or are aware how much they suffer from unkindness or harsh treatment.

Every one is acquainted with the pretty picture Sir Walter Scott has drawn of the affectionate terrier, which was the companion of his hero in "Guy Mannering." We see the faithful Wasp "scampering at large in a thousand wheels round the heath, and come back to jump up to his master, and assure him that he participated in the pleasures of the journey." We see him during the fight with the robbers, "annoying their heels, and repeatedly effecting a moment's diversion in his master's favour, and pursuing them when they ran away." We hear the jolly farmer exclaim—"De'il, but your dog's weel entered wi' the vermin;" and when he goes to see his friend in prison, and brings Wasp with him, we see the joy of the latter, and hear the remark elicited by it—"Whisht, Wasp—man! Wow, but he's glad to see you, poor thing." The whole race of pepper-and-mustard are brought before us—that breed which are held in such high estimation, not only as vermin-killers, but for their intelligence and fidelity, and other companionable qualities.

I could not deny myself the pleasure of introducing this account of the terrier, as it describes so well their courage, fidelity, and attachment. "Wasp," we are told, at the close of an eventful day, "crouched himself on the coverlet at his master's feet, having first licked his master's hand to ask leave." This is part of the natural language of the dog, and how expressive it is! They speak by their eyes, their tail, and by various gestures, and it is almost impossible to misunderstand their meaning. There is a well-known anecdote of two terriers who were in the habit of going out together to hunt rabbits. One of them got so far into a hole that he could not extricate himself. His companion returned to the house, and by his importunity and significant gestures induced his master to follow him. He led him to the hole, made him understand what was the matter, and his associate was at last dug out.

The following affords another proof of the sagacity of these dogs:—

A respectable farmer, residing in a village near Gosport, had a terrier dog who was his constant companion. His business frequently led him across the water to Portsmouth, to which place the dog regularly attended him. The farmer had a son-in-law, a bookseller at Portsmouth, to whose house he frequently went, taking the dog with him. One day, the animal having lost his master in Portsmouth, after searching for him at his usual haunts, went to the bookseller, and by various gesticulations gave him to understand that he had lost his master; his supplications were not in vain, for the bookseller, who understood his language, immediately called his boy, gave him a penny, and ordered him to go directly to the beach, and give the ferryman the money for his passage to the opposite shore. The dog, who seemed to understand the whole proceeding, was much pleased, and jumped directly into the boat, and when landed at Gosport, immediately ran home. He always afterwards went to the bookseller, if he had lost his master at Portsmouth, feeling sure that his boat-hire would be paid, and which was always done.

The same dog, when he was wet or dirty, would go into the barn till he was clean and dry, and then scratch at the parlour-door for admittance.

The Rev. Leonard Jenyns, in his "Observations in Natural History," records the following.—

"A lady,[Q] living in the neighbourhood of my own village, had some years back a favourite Scotch terrier, which always accompanied her in her rides, and was also in the habit of following the carriage to church every Sunday morning. One summer day the lady and her family were from home several weeks, the dog being left behind. The latter, however, continued to come to church by itself for several Sundays in succession, galloping off from the house at the accustomed hour, so as to arrive at the time of service commencing. After waiting in the churchyard a short time, it was seen to return home quiet and dispirited. The distance from the house to the church is three miles, and beyond that at which the ringing of the bells could be ordinarily heard. This was probably an instance of the force of habit, assisted by some association of recollections connected with the movements of the household on that particular day of the week."

An old house being under repair, the bells on the ground-floor were taken down. The mistress of the house had an old favourite terrier, and when she wanted her servants, sent the dog to ring the bell in her dressing-room, having previously attached a bit of wood to the bell-rope. When the dog pulled at the rope, he listened, and if the bell did not ring, he pulled till he heard it, and then returned to the room he had left. If a piece of paper were put into his mouth, with a message written on it, he would carry it to the person he was told to go to, and waited to bring back the answer.

Mr. Laing, who was steward to General Sharp, of Houston, near Uphall, had a terrier dog which gave many proofs of his sagacity. Upon one occasion his wife lent a white petticoat to a neighbour in which to attend a christening; the dog observed his mistress make the loan, followed the woman home who borrowed the article, never quitted her, but accompanied her to the christening, and leaped several times on her knee: nor did he lose sight of her till the piece of dress was at last fairly restored to Mrs. Laing. During the time this person was at the christening she was much afraid the dog would attempt to tear the petticoat off her, as she well knew the object of his attendance.

One of the most extraordinary terriers I ever met with belonged to a man named T——y, well known for many years in the neighbourhood of Hampton Court. The father of this man had been in a respectable way of life, but his son wanted steadiness of character, and, indeed, good conduct, and had it not been for the kindness of his late Majesty, King William the Fourth, he would have been reduced to poverty long before he was. T——y, through the interest of the king, then Duke of Clarence, was tried in several situations, but failed in them all. At last he was made a postman, but was found drunk one evening with all his letters scattered about him, and, of course, lost his situation. He then took up the employment of rat-catcher, for which, perhaps, he was better qualified than any other. His stock-in-trade consisted of some ferrets and an old terrier dog, and a more extraordinary dog was seldom seen. He was rough, rather strongly made, and of a sort of cinnamon colour, having only one eye; his appearance being in direct contrast to what Bewick designates the genteel terrier. The other eye had a fluid constantly exuding from it, which made a sort of furrow down the side of his cheek. He always kept close to the heels of his master, hanging down his head, and appearing the personification of misery and wretchedness. He was, however, a wonderful vermin-killer, and wherever his master placed him, there he remained, waiting with the utmost patience and resignation till an unfortunate rat bolted from the hole, which he instantly killed in a most philosophical manner. The poor dog had to undergo the vicissitudes of hard fare, amounting almost to starvation, of cold, rain, and other evils, but still he was always to be seen at his master's feet, and his fidelity to him was unshaken. No notice, no kind word, seemed to have any effect upon him if offered by a stranger, but he obeyed and understood the slightest signal from his owner. This man was an habitual drunkard, at least whenever he could procure the means of becoming one. It was a cold, frosty night in November, when T——y was returning from a favourite alehouse, along one of the Thames Ditton lanes, some of which, owing to the flatness of the country, have deep ditches by their sides. Into one of these the unfortunate man staggered in a fit of brutal intoxication, and was drowned. When the body was discovered the next morning, the dog was seen using his best endeavours to drag it out of the ditch. He had probably been employed all night in this attempt, and in his efforts had torn the coat from the shoulders of his master. It should be mentioned that this faithful animal had saved his master's life on two former occasions, when he was in nearly similar circumstances.

It may interest some of the readers of this little story to be informed, that a few years before the event which has been related took place, the unhappy man's wife died, leaving four very young children. She was a most industrious woman, of excellent character, and her great misery on her death-bed was the reflection that these children—two boys and two girls—would be left to the care of her drunken husband. She was comforted, however, in her dying moments, by one whose heart and hand have always been ready to relieve the distressed, with the assurance that her children should be taken care of. So when the excellent Queen Adelaide heard of the circumstance, she immediately sent for the four children, placed them under the charge of a proper person, educated and maintained them, placed them in respectable situations in life, and continued to be their friend till her death. This is one of numerous instances which could be related by the author of her Majesty's silent, but unbounded benevolence.

It is time, however, to resume my anecdotes of terriers.

A gentleman of my acquaintance had a favourite dog of this description, which generally slept in his bed-room. My friend was in the habit of reading in bed. On calling upon him one morning, he took me into his bed-room, and showed me his bed-curtains much burnt, and one of his sheets. The night before he had been reading the newspaper in bed, with a candle near him, and had gone to sleep. The newspaper had fallen on the candle, and thus set fire to the curtain. He was awoke by his dog scratching him violently with his fore-feet, and was thus in time to call for assistance, and save the house from being burnt down, and also probably to save his own life.

Another of my acquaintances has a very small pet terrier, a capital rat-killer, who always evinces great antipathy to those animals. She lately produced three puppies, two of which were drowned. After hunting for them in every direction, she returned to her litter, where she was found the next morning not only suckling her own whelp, but a young rat; and thus she continued to do till it reached maturity. The morning on which her puppies were drowned there had been a battue of rats, some of which were wounded and escaped. One of these latter was the young rat in question. This, no doubt, was taken possession of for the purpose of relieving her of her superabundant milk.

A gentleman who had befriended an ill-used terrier acquired such an influence over the grateful dog, that he was obedient to the least look or sign of his master, and attached himself to him and his children in a most extraordinary manner. One of the children having behaved ill, his father attempted to put the boy out of the room, who made some resistance. The dog seeing the bustle, supposed his master was going to beat the boy, and therefore tried to pull him away by the skirts of his coat, thus showing his affection and sagacity at the same time.

Captain Brown relates the following:—

Sir Patrick Walker writes me:—"Pincer, in appearance, is of the English terrier breed, but in manner indicates a good deal of the Scotch colley, or shepherd's dog. He has a remarkably good nose, is a keen destroyer of vermin, and is in the habit of coming to the house for assistance ever since the following occurrence:—He came into the parlour one evening when some friends were with us, and looking in my face, by many expressive gestures, evinced great anxiety that I should follow him. Upon speaking to him, he leaped, and his whine got to a more determined bark, and pulled me by the collar or sleeve of the coat, until I was induced to follow him; and when I got up, he began leaping and gambolling before me, and led the way to an outhouse, to a large chest filled with pieces of old wood, and which he continued by the same means to solicit to be moved. This was done, and he took out a large rat, killed it, and returned to the parlour quite composed and satisfied.

"Similar occurrences have frequently taken place since, with this addition, that as I sometimes called the servant, he often leaves me and runs in the same manner to get his assistance, as soon as he finds me quitting the room to follow him. In no instance has Pincer ever been wrong, his scent is so very good. Once, when he had got assistance, he directed our attention to some loose wood in the yard; and when part of it was removed, he suddenly manifested disappointment, and that the object of pursuit was gone. His manner and look seemed more than instinct, and at once told his story. After a little pause, and some anxious looks, he dashed up a ladder that rested against a low out-house, and took a large rat out of the spout, whither it had apparently escaped whilst Pincer came for assistance."

Terriers appear to have a strong instinctive faculty of finding their way back to their homes, when removed from them to long distances, and even when they have seas to cross. There are instances of their having done this from France, Ireland, and even Germany. Their powers of endurance, therefore, must be very great, and their energies as well as affections equally strong. They have also an invincible perseverance in all they do, to which every fox-hunter will bear his testimony. In my youth, when following the hounds, I have been delighted in witnessing the energy of a brace of terriers, who were sure to make their appearance at the slightest check, running with an ardour quite extraordinary, and incessant in their exertions to be with the busiest of the pack in their endeavours to find. If the fox takes to earth, the little brave terrier eagerly follows, and shows by his baying whether the fox lays deep or not, so that those who are employed in digging it out can act accordingly. In rabbit-shooting in thick furze or breaks, the terrier, as I have often witnessed, will take covert with the eagerness and impetuosity of a foxhound. On one of these occasions I saw an enormous wild cat started, which a small terrier pursued and never quitted, notwithstanding the unequal contest, till it was shot by a keeper. As vermin-killers, they are superior to all other dogs. The celebrated terrier Billy was known to have killed one hundred rats in seven minutes.

Nor are their affections less strong than their courage. A gentleman in the neighbourhood of Bath had a terrier which produced a litter of four puppies. He ordered one of them to be drowned, which was done by throwing it into a pail of water, in which it was kept down by a mop till it appeared to be dead. It was then thrown into a dust-hole, and covered with ashes. Two mornings afterwards, the servant discovered that the bitch had still four puppies, and amongst them was the one which it was supposed had been drowned. It was conjectured that in the course of a short time the terrier had, unobserved, raked her whelp from the ashes, and had restored it to life.

An excellent clergyman, residing close to Brighton, gave me the following curious anecdote of a dog which his son, the late greatly-lamented Major R—— brought to England with him from Spain. This dog was a sort of Spanish terrier, and his disposition and habits were very peculiar indeed, unlike those of any dog I ever heard of. One day a teacher of music was going to one of her pupils, and as she was passing at some little distance from the house of the owner of this dog, had her attention attracted to him. He first looked at her very significantly, pulled her by the gown the contrary way to which she was going, and evidently wanted her to follow him. Partly instigated by curiosity, but chiefly because he held her gown tight in his mouth, she suffered herself to be led some distance, when the dog brought her into a field in which some houses were in the course of being built. She then became alarmed, and seeing two or three labourers, she asked them to drive away the dog. Finding, however, that he would not quit his hold, they advised her to see where the dog would lead her, promising to accompany and protect her. Thus assured, she allowed him to lead her where he pleased. The dog brought her to the houses which were being built. On arriving at them, it was found that the area had been dug out, and a strong plank placed across it, one end resting on a heap of earth. At this end the dog began to scratch eagerly; and on the plank being lifted up, a large beef bone was discovered, which the dog seized in his mouth, and trotted away with it perfectly satisfied. My informant said that he had taken some pains to ascertain the accuracy of this anecdote from the young lady herself, and that I might depend on its truth.

A somewhat similar occurrence took place in my own neighbourhood, very recently. A lady, going to make a morning's call, passed the gateway of a house, when her gown was seized by a dog, who pulled her the contrary way to which she was going. She at last disengaged herself, and made her call. On coming out, the dog was waiting for her, and again took her gown in his mouth, and led her to the gateway she had previously passed. Here he stopped, and as the dog held a tight hold, she rang the bell; and on a servant opening the gate the animal, perfectly satisfied, trotted in, when she found that he belonged to the house, but had been shut out.

It may be also mentioned as an instance of courage and fidelity in a terrier, that as a gentleman was returning home, a man armed with a large stick seized him by the breast, and striking him a violent blow on the head, desired him instantly to deliver his watch and money. As he was preparing to repeat the blow, the terrier sprung at him, and seized him by the throat. His master, at the same time, giving the man a violent blow, he fell backwards and dropped his stick. The gentleman took it up, and ran off, followed by his dog, but not before the animal had torn off and carried away in his mouth a portion of the man's waistcoat.

The following fact will serve to prove that dogs are capable of gratitude in no ordinary degree:—

A surgeon at Dover, seeing a terrier in the street which had received some injury, took it home; and having cured it in a couple of days, let it go. For many weeks the grateful animal used to pay him a daily visit of a few minutes, and after a vehement wagging of his tail, scampered off again to his own home.

A neighbour of mine has a terrier which has shown many odd peculiarities in his habits. He has contracted a great friendship for a white cat, and evinced his affection for it the other day in a curious manner. The dog was observed to scratch a large deep hole in the garden. When he had finished it he sought out the cat, dragged her by the neck to the hole, endeavoured to place her in it, and to cover her with the soil. The cat, not liking this proceeding, at last made her escape.

While two terriers were hunting together in a wood, one was caught by the leg in a trap set for foxes. His companion finding that he could not extricate the other, ran to the house of his owner, and by his significant gesticulations induced him to follow; and by this means he was extricated.

Mr. Morritt, well known to the readers of the Life of Sir Walter Scott, as his intimate and confidential friend, had two terriers of the pepper-and-mustard breed, or rather, as we prefer him to any other character Sir Walter Scott has delighted us with, the Dandy Dinmont breed. These dogs (for we avoid the feminine appellation when we can) were strongly attached to their excellent master, and he to them. They were mother and daughter, and each produced a litter of puppies about the same time. Mr. Morritt was seriously ill at this period, and confined to his bed. Fond as these dogs were of their puppies, they had an equal affection for their master, and in order to prove to him that such was the case, they adopted the following expedient. They conveyed their two litters of puppies to one place, and while one of the mothers remained to suckle and take care of them, the other went into Mr. Morritt's bedroom and continued there from morning until the evening. When the evening arrived, she went and relieved the other dog, who then came into the bedroom, and remained quietly all night by the side of the bed, and this they continued to do day after day in succession.

This charming anecdote was communicated to me from a quarter which cannot leave a doubt of its authenticity, and affords an affecting proof of gratitude and love in animals towards those who have treated them with kindness, and made them their friends. Such an anecdote as this should be sufficient to preserve dogs from much of the ill-treatment they meet with.

I knew a very clever terrier belonging to a friend of mine. His name was Snap. Now Snap one fine, hot, summer's day, accompanied his master, who was on horseback, on his way from London to the neighbourhood of Windsor. The road was very dusty, and, as I have said, the weather hot, and Snap was very thirsty. No water was met with until Hounslow had been passed. At last a woman crossed the road with a bucket of water, which she had drawn from a neighbouring pump. On arriving at her cottage she placed it outside her door, and left it there. Snap saw it and lapped up some of the water with evident satisfaction, his master waiting for him. When he had finished his lapping, instead of following, he deliberately inserted his hind-quarters into the bucket—took a good cooling bath—shook himself in the bucket—jumped out—gave himself another shake, and then followed his master. If Snap was lost in London, he would go to every house usually frequented by his master; and if he then could not find him, would return home. Snap, in fact, was an extraordinary dog.

One night, a gentleman, between fifty and sixty years of age, went into a house of a particular description near the Admiralty. He had not been long there when he died suddenly. He had with him a small dog of the terrier kind, which immediately left the room. There was nothing found on the gentleman's person to lead to a discovery of his name or residence. About twelve o'clock, however, on the following night, three interesting young ladies, of very genteel appearance, between the ages of sixteen and twenty, arrived at the house in which the gentleman died, accompanied by the dog. They came in a chaise from Richmond. It appears that the dog, immediately after the decease of his master, ran off to Richmond, where he usually resided. As soon as the door was opened he rushed into the apartment of the young ladies, who were in the act of dressing themselves. He began to solicit their attention by whines and cries, and his eyes turned to the door, as if to invite them to follow him. Failing in this, he became more earnest, seized their clothes, and pulled them towards the door with so much violence, that one of their gowns was torn. This excited great alarm; and from the intelligence shown by the animal, it was resolved by the young ladies to resign themselves to the dog, which continued to entice them away. A chaise was accordingly ordered, and they immediately took their seats in it. The dog led the way, with its head almost constantly turned back, and his eyes fixed upon the carriage, until he led them to the house near the Admiralty, where his master had died. There they alighted; but how great was their grief, horror, and surprise, to find their father dead in such a situation!

The deceased proved to be Mr. ——, an inhabitant of Lewisham, in Kent, where he possessed a farm of considerable extent, and followed the business of an auctioneer, and was greatly respected in his neighbourhood. That night he dropped down in the house alluded to, when the people, supposing him dead, immediately gave the alarm, and the body was conveyed to the Lord Cochrane hotel, within a few doors, in Spring Gardens. Here it was discovered that the spark of life was not totally extinguished. He was carried up-stairs and put to bed, and medical assistance was called in; but in vain,—in a few minutes he was a corpse. As the people of the house were carrying him up-stairs, a sum of 1100l. fell from his pocket in bank-notes, tied up in a bundle, and marked on the outside, "To be paid into Snow's,"—a circumstance sufficient in itself to show that he had not been dishonestly treated by the female who accompanied him into the house from which he was brought, or any other person belonging to it. The interesting little dog, after his return, remained at his post, the faithful guardian of his beloved master's remains. He lay on the foot of the bed, with his eyes constantly fixed on the body, with an eager, anxious, melancholy expression.

The place was crowded with people, led by curiosity to this interesting scene. The dog never appeared to take any notice of these strange visitors, and no rude hand attempted to interrupt the little mourner in his melancholy office. The verdict of the coroner's inquest was,—"Died by the visitation of God."

Another of the same breed of dogs evinced much sagacity on the following occasion:—

His master occupied furnished lodgings near the Inns of Court in London. In the hurry of removing from them, neither he nor his servants thought of the dog, who was not in the way when they quitted the house. When the dog returned to it, finding his master gone, he trotted off to Kensington, where an intimate friend of his master resided, and very quietly and patiently made himself at home in the house. As he was well known, he was fed and taken care of, and at the end of three days his master called, and he then gladly went away with him.

In this instance it is, I think, evident, that the dog possessed a sort of reasoning faculty, which induced him to suppose that the best chance he had of finding his master was by going to a place to which he had formerly accompanied him; and he was correct in his calculation.

This faculty was again exercised in the following manner:—

A gentleman residing in the Tower of London had a terrier which he one day lost, about seven miles from town. The dog attached himself to a soldier, and notwithstanding the man went to town in an omnibus, the dog followed the vehicle. When the soldier alighted from it, he went to the barracks in St. James's Park, the dog continuing close behind him. On examining the collar, the name and residence of the owner of the dog were found on it. The soldier therefore brought him to the Tower, and gave the above particulars. From this account it may be supposed that the dog, having been familiar with the sight of Guardsmen at the Tower, had followed one of them in hopes that he belonged to that place, and therefore would conduct him to it.

I am not aware that any writer upon dogs has noticed one of their peculiarities, that of curiosity. Let me give a curious and well-authenticated instance of this property, which was communicated to me by the owner of the dog. This animal was a Scotch terrier, named Snob, and certainly a more singular dog has seldom been met with. His master was commander of the fleet on the South American station, and Snob embarked with him. He soon began to give proofs of his extraordinary curiosity, for he liked to see everything that was going forward in the ship. Snob, in fact, was a sort of Paul Pry. He watched everything that was to be done. One night the sailors were kept up aloft for some hours doing something to the sails; Snob remained on the deck the whole time, looking very wise, and watching the sailors with one paw lifted up. He would at other times wander between the decks, looking at everything going forward; and when he had been shut in the cabin he has frequently been observed standing on his hind legs looking through the keyhole of the door, in order to watch the proceedings which were carried on. I have a great respect for Snob, who is still alive, and I have no doubt his curiosity is as great as ever.

A curious instance of ferocity and affection in a terrier bitch is recorded by Mr. Daniel:—After a very severe burst of upwards of an hour, a fox was, by Mr. Daniel's hounds, run to earth, at Heney Dovehouse, near Sudbury, in Suffolk. The terriers were lost; but as the fox went to ground in view of the headmost hounds, and it was the concluding day of the season, it was resolved to dig him out, and two men from Sudbury brought a couple of terriers for that purpose. After considerable labour, the hunted fox was got, and given to the hounds; whilst they were breaking him, one of the terriers slipped back into the earth, and again laid. After more digging, a bitch-fox was taken out, and the terrier killed two cubs in the earth; three others were saved from her fury, and which were begged by the owner of the bitch, who said he should make her suckle them. This was laughed at as impossible; however, the man was positive, and the cubs were given to him. The bitch-fox was carried away, and turned into an earth in another county. The terrier had behaved so well at earth, that she was some days afterwards bought, with the cubs she had fostered, by Mr. Daniel. The bitch continued regularly to suckle, and reared them until able to shift for themselves. What adds to this singularity is, that the terrier's whelp was nearly five weeks old, and the cubs could just see, when this exchange of progeny was made.

The following is a proof not only of the kind disposition, but the sense of a terrier.

A gentleman, from whom I received the anecdote, was walking one day along a road in Lancashire, when he was accosted, if the term may be used, by a terrier dog. The animal's gesticulations were at first so strange and unusual, that he felt inclined to get out of its way. The dog, however, at last, by various significant signs and expressive looks, made his meaning known, and the gentleman, to the dog's great delight, turned and followed him for a few hundred yards. He was led to the banks of a canal, which he had not before seen, and there he discovered a small dog struggling in the water for his life, and nearly exhausted by his efforts to save himself from drowning. The sides of the canal were bricked, with a low parapet wall rather higher than the bank. The gentleman, by stooping down, with some difficulty got hold of the dog and drew him out, his companion all the time watching the proceedings. It cannot be doubted, but that in this instance the terrier made use of the only means in his power to save the other dog, and this in a way which showed a power of reasoning equally strong with that of a human being, under a similar circumstance.

I may here mention another instance of a terrier finding his way back to his former home.

A gentleman residing near York went to London, and on his return brought with him a young terrier dog, which had never been out of London. He brought him to York in one of the coaches, and thence conveyed him to his residence. Impatient of separation from his former master, he took the first opportunity of escaping from the stable in which he had been confined, and was seen running on the turnpike road towards York by the boy who had him in charge, and who followed him for some distance. A few days afterwards, the gentleman who had lost the dog received a letter front London, acquainting him that the dog was found lying at the door of his lodgings, his feet quite sore, and in a most emaciated condition.

A few years ago, a blind terrier dog was brought from Cashiobury Park, near Watford, to Windsor. On arriving at the latter place he became very restless, and took the first opportunity of making his escape, and, blind as he was, made his way back to Cashiobury Park, his native place.

A correspondent informs me, that whilst he was taking a walk one summer's evening, he observed two rough-looking men, having a bull-dog with them, annoying a sickly-looking young gentleman, who was accompanied by a terrier. The bull-dog at last seized the latter, and would soon have killed it, had not my correspondent interfered. He was then informed that a few years previous, when his master was in bed, this little terrier came to his bedroom door, and scratched and yelled to be admitted. When this had been done, he immediately rushed to a closet-door in the room, at which he barked most furiously. His master, becoming alarmed, fastened the door, and having obtained the assistance of his servants, a notorious thief was discovered in the closet.

Mr. White, of Selborne, relates a pleasing anecdote of affection, which existed between two incongruous animals—a horse and a hen, and which showed a mutual fellowship and kindness for each other. The following anecdote, communicated to me by a clergyman in Devonshire, affords another proof of affection between two animals of opposite natures. I will give it in his own words:—

"Some few months since it was necessary to confine our little terrier bitch, on account of distemper. The prison-door was constructed of open bars; and shortly after the dog was placed in durance, we observed a bantam cock gazing compassionately at the melancholy inmate, who, doubtless, sadly missed its warm rug by the parlour fire. At last the bantam contrived to squeeze through the bars, and a friendship of a most unusual kind commenced. Pylades and Orestes, Nisus and Euryalus, could not have been bound by closer bonds of affection. The bantam scarcely forsook the poor prisoner's cell for its daily food, and when it did the dog became uneasy, whining till her friend returned, and then it was most amusing to watch the actions of the biped and quadruped. As the dog became worse, so did the bantam's attentions redouble; and by way of warming the dog, it took its place between the forelegs, and then the little animal settled luxuriously down on the bird, seeming to enjoy the warmth imparted by the feathers. In this position, and nestled closely side by side, did this curious pair pass some weeks, till death put an end to the poor dog and this singular friendship. It must be added for the bantam's honour, that he was most melancholy for some time afterwards."

The same clergyman also communicated to me the following anecdote illustrative of the sagacity of terriers.

He says that "his brother-in-law, who has a house in Woburn Place, and another in the City, had a wire-haired terrier named Bob, of extraordinary sagacity. The dog's knowledge of London and his adventures would form a little history. His master was in the habit, occasionally, of spending a few days at Gravesend, but did not always take his dog with him. Bob, left behind one day against his liking, scampered off to London Bridge, and out of the numerous steamers boarded the Gravesend boat, disembarked at that place, went to the accustomed inn, and not finding his master there, got on board the steamer again and returned to town. He then called at several places usually frequented by his master, and afterwards went home to Woburn Place. He has frequently been stolen, but always returns, sometimes in sad plight, with a broken cord round his neck, and with signs of ill-usage; but still he contrives to escape from the dog-stealers."

I once took a favourite terrier with me to a house I had hired in Manchester Street. He had never been in London before. While the carriage was unloading in which the dog had been conveyed, he was missed, and I could hear nothing of him for nearly a fortnight; at the end of that time he found his way back to the house, with a short cord round his neck, which he had evidently gnawed off. How he came to find his way back is not a little to be wondered at. His joy on seeing me again I cannot forget. Poor Peter! when he got old, and my rides became too long for him, he pretended to be lame after accompanying me a short distance, and would then trot back without any appearance of lameness.

The following anecdote proves the kind disposition of a terrier. A kitten, only a few hours old, had been put into a pail of water, in the stable-yard of an inn, for the purpose of drowning it. It had remained there for a minute or two, until it was to all appearance dead, when a terrier bitch, attached to the stables, took the kitten from the water, and carried it off in her mouth. She suckled and watched over it with great care, and it throve well. The dog was at the same time suckling a puppy about ten weeks old, but which did not seem at all displeased with the intruder.

I had once an opportunity of witnessing the sense of a terrier. I was riding on Sunbury Common, where many roads diverge, when a terrier ran up, evidently in pursuit of his master. On arriving at one of the three roads, he put his nose to the ground and snuffed along it; he then went to the second, and did the same; but when he came to the third, he ran along it as fast as he could, without once putting down his nose to the ground. This fact has been noticed by others, but I never before witnessed it myself.

At Dunrobin Castle, in Sutherlandshire (then the seat of the Marquis of Stafford now of the Duke of Sutherland), there was to be seen, in May 1820, a terrier bitch nursing a brood of ducklings. She had a litter of whelps a few weeks before, which were taken from her and drowned. The unfortunate mother was quite disconsolate till she perceived the brood of ducklings, which she immediately seized and carried to her lair, where she retained them, following them out and in with the greatest care, and nursing them, after her own fashion, with the most affectionate anxiety. When the ducklings, following their natural instinct, went into the water, their foster-mother exhibited the utmost alarm; and as soon as they returned to land she snatched them up in her mouth, and ran home with them. What adds to the singularity of this circumstance is, that the same animal when deprived of a litter of puppies the year preceding, seized two cock-chickens, which she reared with the like care she bestows upon her present family. When the young cocks began to try their voices, their foster-mother was as much annoyed as she now seems to be by the swimming of the ducklings, and never failed to repress their attempts at crowing.

The foreman of a brickmaker, at Erith in Kent, went from home in company with his wife, and left her at the Plough at Northend with his brother, while he proceeded across the fields to inspect some repairs at a cottage. In about an hour after his departure, his dog, a small Scotch terrier, which had accompanied him, returned to the Plough, jumped into the lap of his mistress, pawed her about, and whined piteously. She at first took no particular notice of the animal, but pushed him from her. He then caught hold of her clothes, pulled at them repeatedly, and continued to whine incessantly. He endeavoured, also, in a similar way to attract the attention of the brother. At last all present noticed his importunate anxiety, and the wife then said she was convinced something had happened to her husband. The brother and the wife, with several others, went out and followed the dog, who led them through the darkness of the night, which was very great, to the top of a precipice, nearly fifty feet deep; and standing on the bank, held his head over, and howled in a most distressing manner. They were convinced that the poor man had fallen over; and having gone round to the bottom of the pit, they found him, lying under the spot indicated by the dog, quite dead.

The following anecdote is copied from a recent number of "The Field:"—

I well remember, when a boy, at Barton-upon-Humber, a certain "keel" employed in the Yorkshire corn-trade, on board which the captain had a dog, possessed of some traces of terrier blood, smooth-coated, and of a pure white colour, his neck and back adorned with stumpy bristles, which ruffled up at the slightest provocation—altogether he looked a mongrel cur enough, but he was an excellent sailor, for he attended his master on all his trading expeditions, and never deserted his ship. One day, while the keel lay in Barton Haven, the dog was lost, and great was the consternation in consequence. Diligent search was made in the town and neighbourhood, but every effort to discover the missing animal proved unavailing. Month after month passed away, the keel went and came on her accustomed avocations, and poor Keeper was forgotten—considered by his master to be dead. Judge, therefore, the man's surprise when one day steering with difficulty his vessel into Goole Harbour, which was crowded with shipping at the time, his glance suddenly fell upon his faithful and long-lost dog, buffeting the water at a considerable distance from the keel, but making eagerly towards her. By the aid of a piece of tar-rope, which was dangling round the dog's neck, and a friendly boat-hook, he was lifted quite exhausted on to the deck of his master's craft, when it became at once apparent that he had long been kept a prisoner, most probably on board a vessel, by some one who had stolen him at Barton. The cause of the poor dog's sudden reappearance was undoubtedly his having heard his master's well-remembered voice; but it is strange he should have been able to distinguish at so great a distance, and when swelling that chorus of hoarse bawling which arises from a hundred husky throats when a Yorkshire keelman is engaged forcing his craft into a crowded harbour; and it is also equally touching, that when roused by the distant sound, the poor beast should have plunged, encumbered as he was with the rope he had just burst asunder, so gallantly into the water—an element he was ill-adapted to move in, and in which his master declared he had never seen him before.



THE SPANIEL.

"Though once a puppy, and a fop by name, Here moulders one whose bones some honour claim; No sycophant, although of Spanish race, And though no hound, a martyr to the chase. Ye pheasants, rabbits, leverets rejoice, Your haunts no longer echo to his voice; This record of his fate, exulting view— He died worn out with vain pursuit of you. 'Yes,' the indignant shade of Fop replies, 'And worn with vain pursuits, man also dies.'" COWPER.

Poor Doll! the very name of spaniel reminds me of you. How well do I now see your long pendent ears, your black expressive eyes, your short, well-rounded mouth, your diminutive but strong legs, almost hidden by the long, silky hair from your stomach, and hear you sing as you lie on the rug before a good fire in the winter, after a hard day's cock or snipe-shooting, wet and tired with your indefatigable exertions! Yes—strange as it may sound, Doll would sing in her way, as I have stated in a previous page; and such was her sagacity, that in process of time when I said, "Sing, Doll," she gave vent to the sounds, and varied them as I exclaimed, "Louder, louder." All this time she appeared to be fast asleep.—And what a dog she was in thick cover, or in rushy swamps! No day was too long for her, nor could a woodcock or snipe escape her "unerring nose:"—

"Still her unerring nose would wind it— If above ground was sure to find it."

Monsieur Blaze also tells us, that a gentleman had a dog which he taught to utter a particular musical note, and that the animal made a cry which very much resembled it. He then sounded another note close to the ear of the dog, saying to him, "Too high, or too low," according to the degree of intonation. The animal finished by pretty correctly giving the note which was required.

An account is given in the "Bibliotheque Universelle," of a spaniel, who, if he heard any one play or sing a certain air, "L'ane de notre moulin est mort, la pauvre bete," &c., which is a lamentable ditty, in the minor key, the dog looked very pitifully, then gaped repeatedly, showing increasing signs of impatience and uneasiness. He would then sit upright on his hind-legs, and begin to howl louder and louder till the music stopped. No other air ever affected him, and he never noticed any music till the air in question was played or sung. He then manifested, without exception or variation, the series of actions which have been described.

I knew a dog which howled whenever it was pitied, and another whose ear was so sensitive, that it could never bear to hear me make a moaning noise. I have likewise seen a dog affected by peculiar notes played on a violoncello.

It is only now and then that such dogs as Doll are to be met with, and when they are, they are invaluable, either as sporting dogs or as companions. In the latter capacity Doll was quite delightful. In an early May morning, when she knew that no shooting was going forward, she would frisk around me as I strolled in a meadow, gay with my favourite cowslips, or run before me as I passed along a lane, where primroses were peeping out of its mossy sides, looking back every now and then to see if I was following her. There was the dew still glittering on the flowers, which, from their situation, had not yet felt the influence of the morning sun, reminding me of some favourite lines by my favourite poet, Herrick:—

"Fall on me like a silent dew, Or like those maiden showers, Which, by the peep of day, do strew A baptism o'er the flowers."

How delightful it is to think of these bygone walks, and how pleasant to call to mind these traits of a favourite and faithful animal! The poet Cowper was never more engaging than when he describes his vain attempts to reach the flower of a water-lily, as he was strolling along the banks of a stream attended by his spaniel, and afterwards discovering that the sagacious animal had been in the river and plucked it for him.

Another instance of wonderful sagacity in this breed of dogs may be here noticed.

A gentleman shooting wild fowl one day on a lake in Ireland, was accompanied by a sagacious spaniel. He wounded a wild duck, which swam about the lake, and dived occasionally, followed by the dog. The bird at last got to some distance, and lowered itself in the water, as ducks are known to do when they are wounded and pursued, leaving nothing but his head out of it. The dog swam about for some time in search of his prey, but all scent was lost, and he obeyed his master's call, and returned to the shore. He had no sooner arrived there, however, than he ran with the greatest eagerness to the top of some high ground close to the lake. On arriving there, he was seen looking round in every direction; and having at last perceived the spot where the duck was endeavouring to conceal itself, he again rushed into the water, made directly to the spot he had previously marked, and at last succeeded in securing the wounded bird.

A spaniel which had been kindly treated and fed, during the absence of his master, in the kitchen of a neighbour, showed his gratitude not only by greeting the cook when he met her, but on one occasion he laid down at her feet a bird which he had caught, wagged his tail and departed; thus showing that he had not forgotten the favours he had received.

The following old, but interesting anecdote, is taken from Daniel's "Rural Sports:"—

"A few days before the overthrow of Robespierre, a revolutionary tribunal had condemned M. R——, an upright magistrate and a most estimable man, on a pretence of finding him guilty of a conspiracy. His faithful dog, a spaniel, was with him when he was seized, but was not suffered to enter the prison. He took refuge with a neighbour of his master's, and every day at the same hour returned to the door of the prison, but was still refused admittance. He, however, uniformly passed some time there, and his unremitting fidelity won upon the porter, and the dog was allowed to enter. The meeting may be better imagined than described. The gaoler, however, fearful for himself, carried the dog out of the prison; but he returned the next morning, and was regularly admitted on each day afterwards. When the day of sentence arrived, the dog, notwithstanding the guards, penetrated into the hall, where he lay crouched between the legs of his master. Again, at the hour of execution, the faithful dog is there; the knife of the guillotine falls—he will not leave the lifeless and headless body. The first night, the next day, and the second night, his absence alarmed his new patron, who, guessing whither he had retired, sought him, and found him stretched upon his master's grave. From this time, for three months, every morning the mourner returned to his protector merely to receive food, and then again retreated to the grave. At length he refused food, his patience seemed exhausted, and with temporary strength, supplied by his long-tried and unexhausted affection, for twenty-four hours he was observed to employ his weakened limbs in digging up the earth that separated him from the being he had served. His powers, however, here gave way; he shrieked in his struggles, and at length ceased to breathe, with his last look turned upon the grave."

The late Rev. Mr. Corsellis, of Wivenhoe, in Essex, had an old gamekeeper who had reared a spaniel, which became his constant companion, day and night. Wherever the keeper appeared Dash was close behind him, and was of infinite use in his master's nocturnal excursions. The game at night was never regarded, although in the day no spaniel could find it in better style, or in a greater quantity. If at night, however, a strange foot entered the coverts, Dash, by a significant whine, informed his master that an enemy was abroad, and thus many poachers have been detected. After many years of friendly companionship the keeper was seized with a disease which terminated in death. Whilst the slow but fatal progress of his disorder allowed him to crawl about, Dash, as usual, followed his footsteps; and when nature was nearly exhausted, and he took to his bed, the faithful animal unweariedly attended at the foot of it. When he died the dog would not quit the body, but lay on the bed by its side. It was with difficulty he could be induced to eat any food; and though after the burial he was caressed with all the tenderness which so fond an attachment naturally called forth, he took every opportunity to steal back to the room where his old master died. Here he would remain for hours, and from thence he daily visited his grave. At the end, however, of fourteen days, notwithstanding every kindness and attention shown him, the poor faithful animal died, a victim of grief for the loss of his master.

In recording such an instance of affection, it is impossible not to feel regret that animals capable of so much attachment should ever be subjected to ill-usage. Whenever they are treated with kindness and affection, they are ready to return it four-fold. It is generally ill-treatment which produces ferocity or indifference, and the former must be very great before the love of their master can be conquered.

Mr. Blaine records the following story of a dog which he had found:—

"I one day picked up in the streets an old spaniel bitch, that some boys were worrying, from which her natural timidity rendered her incapable of defending herself. Grateful for the protection, she readily followed me home, where she was placed among other dogs, in expectation of finding an owner for her; but which not happening, she spent the remainder of her life (three or four years) in this asylum. Convinced she was safe and well treated, I had few opportunities of particularly noticing her afterwards, and she attached herself principally to the man who fed her. At a future period, when inspecting the sick dogs, I observed her in great pain, occasionally crying out. Supposing her to be affected in her bowels, and having no suspicion she was in pup, I directed some castor-oil to be given her. The next day she was still worse, when I examined her more attentively, and, to my surprise, discovered that a young one obstructed the passage, and which she was totally unable to bring forth. I placed her on a table, and, after some difficulty, succeeded in detaching the puppy from her. The relief she instantly felt produced an effect I shall never forget; she licked my hands, and when put on the ground she did the same to my feet, danced round me, and screamed with gratitude and joy.

"From this time to her death, which did not happen till two years after, she never forgot the benefit she had received; on the contrary, whenever I approached, she was boisterous in evincing her gratitude and regard, and would never let me rest till, by noticing her, I had convinced her that I was sensible of her caresses. The difference between her behaviour before this accident and after it was so pointed and striking, that it was impossible to mistake the grateful sense she had ever retained of the kindness which had been shown to her."

Spaniels in cover are merry and cheerful companions, all life and animation. They hunt, they frisk about, watching the movements of their master, and are indefatigable in their exertions to find game for him. Their neat shape, their beautiful coats, their cleanly habits, their insinuating attention, incessant attendance, and faithful obedience, insure for them general favour. It is almost impossible, therefore, not to have the greatest attachment and affection for them, especially as few dogs evince so much sagacity, sincerity, patience, fidelity, and gratitude. From the time they are thrown off in the field, as a proof of the pleasure they feel in being employed, the tail is in perpetual motion, upon the increased vibration of which the experienced sportsman well knows when he is getting nearer to the game. As the dog approaches it, the more energetic he becomes. Tremulous whimpers escape him as a matter of doubt occurs, and he is all eagerness as he hits again on the scent. The Clumber breed of spaniels have long been celebrated for their strength and powers of endurance, their unerring nose, and for hunting mute—a great qualification where game abounds. This breed has been preserved in its purity by the successive Dukes of Newcastle, and may be considered as an aristocratic apanage to their country seats. Nor should the fine breed of spaniels belonging to the Earl of Albemarle be passed by in silence. They are black and tan, of a large size, with long ears, and very much feathered about the legs. They are excellent retrievers; and those who have seen will not soon forget Sir Edwin Landseer's charming picture of the late Lord Albemarle's celebrated dog Chancellor, and one of his progeny, holding a dead rabbit between them, as if equally eager to bring it to their amiable master. These dogs, like those of the Clumber breed, hunt mute, and seldom range out of shot.

While on the subject of Lord Albemarle's breed of dogs, I may mention an extraordinary fact which I noticed in a former work, and which I witnessed myself. I allude to the circumstance of a favourite dog having died after producing a litter of puppies, which were adopted, suckled, and brought up by a young bitch of the same breed, who never had any whelps of her own, or indeed was in the way of having any. The flow of milk of the foster-mother was quite sufficient for the sustenance of the adopted offspring, and enabled her to support and bring them up with as much care and affection as if they had been her own. Here was an absence of that notus odor which enables animals to distinguish their young from those of others, and also of that distension of milk which makes the suckling their young so delightful to them. Indeed it may be observed how beautifully and providentially it has been ordered, that the process of suckling their young is as pleasurable to the parent animal as it is essential to the support of the infant progeny. The mammae of animals become painful when over-distended with milk. Drawing off that fluid removes positive uneasiness and affords positive pleasure. In the present instance, however, nothing of the sort was the case, and therefore we can only look to that kindliness of disposition and intelligence with which many animals are so strongly endowed as the reason of the singular adoption referred to. I am aware that this fact has been doubted, but it is too well known and authenticated to admit of the possibility of any mistake. In this instance it must be allowed that the usually defined bounds of instinct were exceeded. If so, distress at hearing the cries of the helpless young must have acted forcibly on the kindly feelings of a poor brute, and thus induced her to act in the manner I have described.

Spaniels, like other dogs, possess the power of finding their way to their homes from distances of considerable extent, and over ground they have not before traversed.

A lady residing at Richmond (Mrs. Grosvenor) gave the Rev. Leonard Jenyns the following anecdote of a dog and cat. A little Blenheim spaniel of hers once accompanied her to the house of a relative, where it was taken into the kitchen to be fed, when two large favourite cats flew at it several times, and scratched it severely. The spaniel was in the habit of following its mistress in her walks in the garden, and by degrees it formed a friendship with a young cat of the gardener's, which it tempted into the house,—first into the hall, and then into the kitchen,—where, on finding one of the large cats, the spaniel and its ally fell on it together, and, without further provocation, beat it well; they then waited for the other, which they served in the same manner, and finally drove both cats from the kitchen. The two friends continued afterwards to eat off the same plate as long as the spaniel remained with her mistress in the house.

A gentleman residing at Worcester had a favourite spaniel, which he brought with him to London inside the coach. After having been in town a day or two he missed the dog, and wrote to acquaint his family at Worcester of his loss. He received an answer informing him that he need not distress himself about "Rose," as she had arrived at her old house at Worcester five days after she had been lost in London, but very thin and out of condition. This same dog was a great favourite, and much domesticated. She formed a friendship with the cat, and when before the fire the latter would lie down in the most familiar manner by the side of the dog. When the dog had puppies, the cat was in the habit of sucking her; and it happened more than once that both had young ones at the same time, when the cat might be seen sucking the bitch, and the kittens taking their nourishment from the cat.

A friend of mine, who then resided in South Wales, had a team of spaniels, which he used for woodcock shooting. As he was leaving the country for a considerable length of time, he gave permission to some of his neighbours to take out his spaniels when they wanted them. One of these was a remarkably good dog, but of rather a surly disposition, and had, in consequence, been but little petted or noticed by his master. Notwithstanding this, nothing could induce him either to follow or hunt with those to whom he was lent. In order, therefore, to make him of any use, it was necessary to get his feeder to accompany the shooting party, and the dog would then take to hunt in cover; but if this man returned home, the dog would find it out and be there before him. At the end of nearly six years his master returned into Wales, and near the house discovered his old dog, apparently asleep. Knowing his ferocious disposition, he did not venture to go close to him, but called him by name, which did not appear to excite the animal's attention. No sooner, however, did the dog hear an old exciting cover-call, than he jumped up, sprang to his old master, and showed his affection for him in every possible way. When the shooting season came, he proved himself to be as good a dog as ever.

Mons. Blaze says, that a fondness for the chase does not always make a dog forget his fidelity to his master. He was one day shooting wild ducks with a friend near Versailles, when, as soon as the first shot was fired, a fine spaniel dog joined and began to caress them. They shot during the whole day, and the dog hunted with the greatest zeal and alacrity. Supposing him to be a stray dog, they began to think of appropriating him to themselves; but as soon as the sport was over, the dog ran away. They afterwards discovered that he belonged to one of the keepers, who was confined to his house by illness. His duty, however, was to shoot ducks on one particular day of the week, when he was accompanied by this spaniel; he lived six miles from the spot, and the dog, knowing the precise day, had come there to enjoy his usual sport, and then returned to his master.

One of the most extraordinary cases on record of a friendship between two most dissimilar animals, a spaniel and a partridge, is narrated by a writer in whom implicit confidence may be placed:—"We were lately (in 1823) visiting in a house, where a very pleasing and singular portrait attracted our observation: it was that of a young lady, represented with a partridge perched upon her shoulder, and a dog with his feet on her arm. We recognised it as a representation of the lady of the house; but were at a loss to account for the odd association of her companions. She observed our surprise, and at once gave the history of the bird and the spaniel. They were both, some years back, domesticated in her family. The dog was an old parlour favourite, who went by the name of Tom; the partridge was more recently introduced from France, and answered to the equally familiar name of Bill. It was rather a dangerous experiment to place them together, for Tom was a lively and spirited creature, very apt to torment the cats, and to bark at any object which roused his instinct. But the experiment was tried; and Bill, being very tame, did not feel much alarm at his natural enemy. They were, of course, shy at first; but this shyness gradually wore off: the bird became less timid, and the dog less bold. The most perfect friendship was at length established between them. When the hour of dinner arrived, the partridge invariably flew on his mistress's shoulder, calling with that shrill note which is so well known to sportsmen; and the spaniel leapt about with equal ardour. One dish of bread and milk was placed on the floor, out of which the spaniel and bird fed together. After their social meal, the dog would retire to a corner to sleep, while the partridge would nestle between his legs, and never stir till his favourite awoke. Whenever the dog accompanied his mistress out, the bird displayed the utmost disquietude till his return; and once, when the partridge was shut up by accident a whole day, the dog searched about the house, with a mournful cry which indicated the strength of his affection. The friendship of Tom and Bill was at length fatally terminated. The beautiful little dog was stolen; and the bird from that time refused food, and died on the seventh day, a victim to his grief."

A friend of mine has a small spaniel, which very recently showed great sagacity. This dog, which is much attached to him, was left under the care of a servant while his master paid a visit of a few weeks in Hampshire. The poor animal was so miserable during his absence, that he was informed of it, and directed the dog to be sent to him in a hamper, which was done. He was overjoyed at the sight of his kind master, and remained perfectly contented at his new abode. When preparations were making for his departure, the day before it took place, the dog was evidently aware of what was going forward, and showed his dread of being again left behind, by keeping as close as possible to the feet of his master during the evening. On getting up very early the next morning, before daylight, he found on opening his door that the apprehensive animal was lying before it, although it was winter, and very cold. At breakfast the dog not only nestled against his feet, but rubbed himself so much against them, that he was at last turned out of the room. On going into his dressing-room, where the dog had been in the habit of sleeping in a warm basket before a good fire, he found him coiled up in his portmanteau, which had been left open nearly packed.

In this instance, the animal's knowledge of what was going forward was very evident, and his fear of being left behind could not be more strongly expressed; thus affording another proof that animals are possessed of a faculty much beyond mere instinct.

A young gentleman lately residing in Edinburgh was master of a handsome spaniel bitch, which he had bought from a dealer in dogs. The animal had been educated to steal for the benefit of its protector; but it was some time ere his new master became aware of this irregularity of morals, and he was not a little astonished and teazed by its constantly bringing home articles of which it had feloniously obtained possession. Perceiving, at length, that the animal proceeded systematically in this sort of behaviour, he used to amuse his friends, by causing the spaniel to give proofs of her sagacity in the Spartan art of privately stealing; putting, of course, the shopkeepers where he meant she should exercise her faculty on their guard as to the issue.

The process was curious, and excites some surprise at the pains which must have been bestowed to qualify the animal for these practices. As soon as the master entered the shop, the dog seemed to avoid all appearance of recognizing or acknowledging any connexion with him, but lounged about in an indolent, disengaged, and independent sort of manner, as if she had come into the shop of her own accord. In the course of looking over some wares, his master indicated by a touch on the parcel and a look towards the spaniel, that which he desired she should appropriate, and then left the shop. The dog, whose watchful eye caught the hint in an instant, instead of following his master out of the shop, continued to sit at the door, or lie by the fire, watching the counter, until she observed the attention of the people of the shop withdrawn from the prize which she wished to secure. Whenever she saw an opportunity of doing so, as she imagined, unobserved, she never failed to jump upon the counter with her fore feet, possess herself of the gloves, or whatever else had been pointed out to her, and escape from the shop to join her master.

A gentleman lately communicated to me the following fact:—

His avocations frequently took him by the side of St. Bride's Churchyard, in London. Whenever he passed it, in the course of some two or three years, he always saw a spaniel at one particular grave—it was the grave of his master. There, month after month, and year after year, did this faithful animal remain, as if to guard the remains of the being he loved. No cold, however severe, no rain, however violent, no sun, however hot, could drive this affectionate creature from a spot which was so endeared to him. The good-natured sexton of the churchyard, (and the fact is recorded to his honour,) brought food daily to the dog, and then pitying his exposure to the weather, scooped out a hole by the side of the grave, and thatched it over.

The following is from the Percy collection of Anecdotes:—

Two spaniels, mother and son, were self-hunting in Mr. Drake's woods, near Amersham, in Bucks. The gamekeeper shot the mother; the son, frightened, ran away for an hour or two, and then returned to look for his mother. Having found her dead body, he laid himself down by her, and was found in that situation the next day by his master, who took him home, together with the body of the mother. Six weeks did this affectionate creature refuse all consolation, and almost all nutriment. He became, at length, universally convulsed, and died of grief.

These two anecdotes would form a pretty picture of fidelity and kindness, and there is one (I need not mention Sir Edwin Landseer) who would do justice to them.

I may here remark, that the dogs of poor people generally show more attachment to their masters than those of the rich. Their fidelity appears greater, and more lasting. Misery would seem to tighten the cord of affection between them. They both suffer the same privations together of hunger, cold, and thirst, but these never shake the affection of a dog for his master. The animal's resignation is perfect, and his love unbounded. How beautifully has Sir Walter Scott described the affection of a dog for his master, who fell down a precipice in a fog near the Helvellyn Mountains, in Cumberland, and was dashed to pieces. It was not till more than three months afterwards that his remains were discovered, when his faithful dog was still guarding them.

"Dark green was the spot 'mid the brown mountain heather, Where the pilgrim of nature lay stretch'd in decay; Like the corpse of an outcast abandon'd to weather, 'Till the mountain winds wasted the tenantless clay. Nor yet quite deserted, though lonely extended, For faithful in death his mute fav'rite attended, The much-lov'd remains of his master defended, And chas'd the hill fox and the raven away."

Nor are the preceding anecdotes solitary instances of the affection of dogs for their departed masters. Mr. Youatt, in his work on "Humanity to Brutes," which does him so much credit, has recorded the following fact, very similar to the one already given:—

Opposite to the house of a gentleman, near the churchyard of St. Olave, Southwark, where the receptacles of humanity are in many parts dilapidated, was an aperture just large enough to admit a dog. It led along a kind of sink to a dark cavity, close to which a person had recently been buried. It was inhabited by his dog, who was to be seen occasionally moving into or out of the cavern, which he had taken possession of the day of the funeral. How he obtained any food during the first two or three months no one knew, but he at length attracted the attention of a gentleman who lived opposite, and who ordered his servant regularly to supply the dog with food. He used, after a while, to come occasionally to this house for what was provided for him. He was not sullen, but there was a melancholy expression in his countenance, which, once observed, would never be forgotten. As soon as he had finished his hasty meal, he would gaze for a moment on his benefactor. It was an expressive look, but one which could not be misunderstood. It conveyed all the thanks that a broken heart could give. He then entombed himself once more for three or four days, when he crawled out again with his eyes sunk and his coat dishevelled. Two years he remained faithful to the memory of the being he had lost, and then, according to the most authentic account of him, having been missing several days, he was found dead in his retreat.

From a letter written by a gentleman at Dijon in France, to his friend in London, dated August 15, 1764, we have the following account of a murder discovered by a dog:—

"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. Surely so useful, so disinterestedly faithful an animal, should not be so barbarously treated as I have often seen them, particularly in London."

The following anecdote has been well authenticated, and the fact which it records is still remembered by many individuals yet alive:—

Mr. Alderman Yearsley, of Congleton, in Cheshire, had a favourite large water-spaniel named Fanny, which, in the hands of Providence, was the instrument of saving a very valuable life.

In the year 1774 Mr. Yearsley had gone out one evening with a friend to a tavern, and the dog accompanied him. A short time before he was expected home, and while Mrs. Yearsley happened to be washing her hands in the back kitchen, the spaniel returned and scratched at the door for admittance. Being let in, she followed her mistress into the kitchen, where she set up a strange sort of whining, or barking, and turned towards the street-door, as if beckoning her mistress to follow. This she repeated several times, to the great astonishment of the lady. At length a thought struck her that Mr. Yearsley might have met with some accident in the street, and that the spaniel was come to guide her to her husband. Alarmed at this idea, she hastily followed the animal, which led her to Mr. Yearsley, whom she found in perfect health, sitting in the house to which he had gone. She told him the cause of her coming, and got herself laughed at for her pains. But what were the feelings of both, when they were informed by their next neighbours that the kitchen fell in almost the very instant Mrs. Yearsley had shut the street-door, and that the wash-hand basin she had left was crushed into a thousand pieces! The animal was ever afterwards treated with no ordinary attention, and died thirteen years later, at the age of sixteen. Her death, we regret to add, was occasioned by the bite of a mad dog.

In the "Notes of a Naturalist," published in Chambers' "Edinburgh Journal," a work which cannot be too much commended for its agreeable information, is the following anecdote, which I give with the remarks of the author upon it:—

"It appears to me, that in the general manifestations of the animal mind, some one of the senses is employed in preference to the others—that sense, for instance, which is most acute and perfect in the animal. In the dog, for example, the sense of smell predominates; and we accordingly find that, through the medium of this sense, his mental faculties are most commonly exercised. A gentleman had a favourite spaniel, which for a long time was in the habit of accompanying him in all his walks, and became his attached companion. This gentleman had occasion to leave home, and was absent for more than a year, during which time he had never seen the dog. On his return along with a friend, while yet at a little distance from the house, they perceived the spaniel lying beside the gate. He thought that this would be a good opportunity of testing the memory of his favourite; and he accordingly arranged with his companion, who was quite unknown to the dog, that they should both walk up to the animal, and express no signs of recognition. As they both approached nearer, the dog started up, and gazed at them attentively; but he discovered no signs of recognition, even at their near approach. At last he came up to the stranger, put his nose close to his clothes, and smelt him, without any signs of emotion. He then did the same to his old master; but no sooner had he smelt him, than recognition instantly took place; he leaped up to his face repeatedly, and showed symptoms of the most extravagant joy. He followed him into the house, and watched his every movement, and could by no means be diverted from his person. Here was an instance of deficient memory through the organs of sight, but an accurate recollection through the organs of smell." In a preceding anecdote, I have recorded an instance of a spaniel recognising the voice of his master after a lapse of six years. In that case, it was evident that the recollection of a particular sound enabled the dog to know his master, without having had recourse to the sense of smelling, which, however, would probably have been equally available had it been exercised.

About the year 1800, Mrs. Osburn, who lived a few miles out of London, went to town to receive a large sum of money granted her by Parliament for discovering a lithontryptic medicine. She received the money, and returned back with it in her own carriage to the country, without anything particular happening to her on the road. It was evening when she arrived at home; and being fatigued with her journey, she retired early to rest. On her stepping into bed, she was somewhat surprised at the importunities of a small King Charles's dog, which was a great pet, and always slept in her bedchamber. He became exceedingly troublesome, and kept pulling the bedclothes with all his strength. She chid him repeatedly, and in an angry tone of voice desired him to lie still, that she might go to sleep. The dog, however, still persisted in his efforts, and kept pulling the bedclothes; and at length leaped on the bed, and endeavoured with the most determined perseverance to pull off the bedclothes. Mrs. Osburn then conceived there must be some extraordinary cause for this unusual conduct on the part of her dog, and leaped out of bed; and being a lady of some courage, put on her petticoat, and placed a brace of pistols by her side, which she had always ready loaded in a closet adjoining her bed-room, and proceeded down-stairs. When she had reached the first landing-place, she saw her coachman coming down the private staircase, which led to the servants' rooms, with a lighted candle in his hand, and full dressed. Suspecting his intentions were bad, and with heroic presence of mind, she presented one of her pistols, and threatened to lodge the contents of it in him, unless he returned to bed forthwith. Subdued by her determined courage, he quietly and silently obeyed. She then went into a back-parlour, when she heard a distant whispering of voices; she approached the window, and threw it up, and fired one of her pistols out of it, in the direction from which the noise proceeded. Everything became silent, and not a whisper was to be heard. After looking through the different rooms on the lower floor, and finding all right, she proceeded to bed and secured the door, and nothing further occurred that night. Next morning she arose at an early hour, went into the garden, and in the direction which she had fired the preceding night she discovered drops of blood, which she traced to the other end of the garden. This left no doubt on her mind of what had been intended. Thinking it imprudent to keep so large a sum of money in her house, she ordered her carriage to drive to town, where she deposited her cash. She then repaired to the house of Sir John Fielding, and related to him the whole affair, who advised her to part with her coachman immediately, and that he would investigate the matter, and, if possible, discover and convict the offenders. But the parties concerned in this affair were never discovered; for the mere fact of the coachman being found coming down the stair was not sufficient to implicate him, although there were strong grounds of suspicion. Thus, by the instinct and fidelity of this little animal, was robbery, and most likely murder, prevented.