THE SPRINGER

This dog is slower and steadier in its range than the cocker; but it is a much safer dog for the shooter, and can better stand a hard day's work. The largest and best breed of springers is said to be in Sussex, and is much esteemed in the Wealds of that county.

From a cross with the terrier a black and tan variety was procured, which was cultivated by the late Duke of Norfolk, and thence called the Norfolk Spaniel. It is larger than the common springer, and stancher, and stouter. It often forms a strong individual attachment, and is unhappy and pines away when separated from its master. It is more ill-tempered than the common springer, and, if not well broken in, is often exceedingly obstinate.

[Mr. Skinner informs us that this breed, in its greatest purity, may be found in the Carrollton family, as also in the possession of Mr. Keyworth of Washington city.—L.]

THE BLACK AND TAN SPANIEL,

the cross of the terrier being nearly or quite got rid of, is often a beautiful animal, and is much valued, although it is frequently considered a somewhat stupid animal. The cocker and the springer are sometimes used as finders in coursing.

THE BLENHEIM SPANIEL,

a breed cultivated by one of the Dukes of Marlborough, belongs to this division. From its beauty, and occasional gaiety, it is oftener an inhabitant of the drawing-room than the field; but it occasionally breaks out, and shows what nature designed it for. Some of these carpeted pets acquit themselves nobly in the covert. There they ought oftener to be; for they have not much individuality of attachment to recommend them, and, like other spoiled animals, both quadruped and biped, misbehave. The breed has degenerated of late, and is not always to be had pure, even in the neighbourhood of Blenheim. This spaniel may he distinguished by the length and silkiness of the coat, the deep fringe about the ear, the arch and deep-feathering of the tail, the full and moist eye, and the blackness of the palate.



THE WATER-SPANIEL.

Of this breed there are two varieties, a larger and smaller, both useful according to the degree of range or the work required; the smaller, however, being ordinarily preferable. Whatever be his general size, strength and compactness of form are requisite. His head is long, his face smooth, and his limbs, more developed than those of the springer, should be muscular, his carcase round, and his hair long and closely curled. Good breaking is more necessary here than even with the land-spaniel, and, fortunately, it is more easily accomplished; for, the water-spaniel, although a stouter, is a more docile animal than the land one.

Docility and affection are stamped on his countenance, and he rivals every other breed in his attachment to his master. His work is double; first to find, when ordered so to do, and to back behind the sportsman when the game will be more advantageously trodden up. In both he must be taught to be perfectly obedient to the voice, that he may be kept within range, and not unnecessarily disturb the birds. A more important part of his duty, however, is to find and bring the game that has dropped. To teach him to find is easy enough, for a young water-spaniel will as readily take to the water as a pointer puppy will stop; but to bring his game without tearing is a more difficult lesson, and the most difficult of all is to make him suspend the pursuit of the wounded game while the sportsman re-loads.

The water-spaniel was originally from Spain; but the pure breed has been lost, and the present dog is probably descended from the large water-dog and the English setter.

The water and land spaniels differ materially from each other. The water-spaniel, although when at his work being all that his master can desire, is, when unemployed, comparatively a slow and inactive dog; but under this sobriety of demeanor is concealed a strength and fidelity of attachment to which the more lively land-spaniel cannot always lay just claim. The writer of this work once saved a young water-spaniel from the persecution of a crowd of people who had driven it into a passage, and were pelting it with stones. The animal had the character of being, contrary to what his species usually are, exceedingly savage; and he suffered himself to be taken up by me and carried from his foes with a kind of sullenness; but when, being out of the reach of danger, he was put down, he gazed on his deliverer, and then crouched at his feet.

From that moment he attached himself to his new master with an intensity of affection scarcely conceivable—never expressed by any boisterous caresses, but by endeavouring to be in some manner in contact with him; resting his head upon his foot; lying upon some portion of his apparel, his eye intently fixed upon him; endeavouring to understand every expression of his countenance. He would follow one gentleman, and one only, to the river-side, and behave gallantly and nobly there; but the moment he was dismissed he would scamper home, gaze upon his master, and lay himself down at his feet. In one of these excursions he was shot. He crawled home, reached his master's feet, and expired in the act of licking his hand.

Perhaps the author may be permitted to relate one story more of the water-spaniel: he pledges himself for its perfect truth. The owner of the dog is telling this tale.

"I was once on the sea-coast, when a small, badly-formed, and leaky fishing-boat was cast on shore, on a fearful reef of rocks. Three men and a boy of ten years old constituted the crew. The men swam on shore, but they were so bruised against the rocks, that they could not render any assistance to the poor boy, and no person could be found to venture out in any way. I heard the noise and went to the spot with my dog. I spoke to him, and in he went, more like a seal than a dog, and after several fruitless attempts to mount the wreck he succeeded, and laid hold of the boy, who clung to the ropes, screaming in the most fearful way at being thus dragged into the water. The waves dashed frightfully on the rocks. In the anxiety and responsibility of the moment I thought that the dog had missed him, and I stripped off my clothes, resolved to render what assistance I could. I was just in the act of springing from the shore, having selected the moment when the receding waves gave me the best chance of rendering any assistance, when I saw old 'Bagsman,' for that was the name of my dog, with the struggling boy in his mouth, and the head uppermost. I rushed to the place where he must land, and the waves bore the boy and the dog into my arms.

"Some time after that I was shooting wild-fowl. I and my dog had been working hard, and I left him behind me while I went to a neighbouring town to purchase gunpowder. A man, in a drunken frolic, had pushed off in a boat with a girl in it; the tide going out carried the boat quickly away, and the man becoming frightened, and unable to swim, jumped overboard. Bagsman, who was on the spot, hearing the splash, jumped in, swam out to the man, caught hold of him, and brought him twenty yards towards the shore, when the drunken fellow clasped the dog tight round the body, and they both went down together. The girl was saved by a boat going to her assistance. The body of the man was recovered about an hour afterwards, with that of the dog clasped tight in his arms, thus dragging him to the bottom. 'Poor Bagsman! thy worth deserves to be thus chronicled.'"

THE POODLE.

The particular cross from which this dog descended is unknown, but the variety produced has been carefully preserved. It is, probably, of continental origin, and is known by its thick curly hair concealing almost every part of the face, and giving it the appearance of a short, thick, unintelligent head. When, however, that hair is removed, there is still the large head; but there is also the cerebral cavity more capacious than in any other dog, and the frontal sinuses fully developed, and exhibiting every indication of the intellectual class to which it belongs.

It was originally a water-dog, as its long and curly hair, and its propensities in its domesticated state, prove; but, from its peculiar sagacity, it is capable of being trained to almost any useful purpose, and its strong individual attachment renders it more the companion of man than a mere sporting dog: indeed, its qualities as a sporting dog are seldom recognised by its owner.

These dogs have far more courage than the water-spaniel, all the sagacity of the Newfoundland, more general talent, if the expression may be used, and more individual attachment than either of them, and without the fawning of the one, or the submissiveness of the other. The poodle seems conscious of his worth, and there is often a quiet dignity accompanying his demonstrations of friendship.

This dog, however, possesses a very peculiar kind of intelligence. It will almost perform the common offices of a servant: it will ring the bell and open the door. Mr. Wilkie, of Ladythorn in Northumberland, had a poodle which he had instructed to go through all the apparent agonies of dying. He would fall on one side, stretch himself out, and move his hind legs as if he were in great pain; he would next simulate the convulsive throbs of departing life, and then stretch out his limbs and thus seem as if he had expired. In this situation he would remain motionless, until he had his master's command to rise.

The portrait of Sancho, a poodle, that was with difficulty forced from the grave of his master, after the battle of Salamanca, is familiar to many of our readers. Enticed from his post he could not be, nor was he at length taken away until weakened by grief and starvation. He by degrees attached himself to his new master, the Marquis of Worcester, but not with the natural ardour of a poodle. He was attentive to every command, and could perform many little domestic offices. Sometimes he would exhibit considerable buoyancy of spirit; but there oftener seemed to be about him the recollection of older and closer friendship.

Another poodle occupies an interesting place in the history of the Peninsular war. He too belonged to a French officer, who was killed at the battle of Castella. The French were compelled to retreat before they could bury their dead, and the soldiers wished to carry with them their regimental favourite; but he would not be forced from the corpse of his master. Some soldiers afterwards traversing the field of battle, one of them discovered the cross of the Legion of Honour on the breast of the fallen officer, and stooped to take it away, when the dog flew savagely at him, and would not quit his hold, until the bayonet of another soldier laid him lifeless.

A veterinary surgeon, who, before any other animal than the horse was acknowledged to be the legitimate object of medical care, did not disdain to attend to the diseases of the dog, used to say that there were two breeds which he never wished to see in his infirmary, namely, the poodle and the Norfolk spaniel; for, although not always difficult to manage, he could never attach them to him, but they annoyed him by their pitiful and imploring gaze during the day, and their mournful howling at night.

Custom has determined that the natural coat of this animal shall be taken from him. It may be a relief to the poodle for a part of his coat to be stripped off in hot weather, and the curly hair which is left on his chest, contrasted with his smooth and well-rounded loins and quarters, may make it look pretty enough; but it should he remembered that he was not designed by nature to be thus exposed to the cold of winter, and that there are no dogs so liable to rheumatism, and that rheumatism degenerating into palsy, as the well-trimmed poodle.

THE BARBET

is a small poodle, the production of some unknown and disadvantageous cross with the true poodle. It has all the sagacity of the poodle, and will perform even more than his tricks. It is always in action; always fidgety; generally incapable of much affection, but inheriting much self-love and occasional ill temper; unmanageable by any one but its owner; eaten up with red mange; and frequently a nuisance to its master and a torment to every one else.

We must not, however, do it injustice; it is very intelligent, and truly attached to its owner.

The barbet possesses more sagacity than most other dogs, but it is sagacity of a particular kind, and frequently connected with various amusing tricks. Mr. Jesse, in his Gleanings in Natural History, gives a singular illustration of this. A friend of his had a barbet that was not always under proper command. In order to keep him in better order, he purchased a small whip, with which he corrected him once or twice during a walk. On his return the whip was put on a table in the hall, but on the next morning it was missing. It was soon afterwards found concealed in an out-building, and again made use of in correcting the dog. Once more it would have been lost, but, on watching the dog, who was suspected of having stolen it, he was seen to take it from the hall table in order to hide it once more.

THE MALTESE DOG

can be traced back to an early period. Strabo says that

"there is a town in Sicily called Melita, whence are exported many beautiful dogs called 'Canes Melitaei'. They were the peculiar favourites of the women; but now (A.D. 25) there is less account made of these animals, which are not bigger than common ferrets or weasels, yet they are not small in understanding nor unstable in their love."

They are also found in Malta and in other islands of the Mediterranean, and they maintain the same character of being devotedly affectionate to their owners, while, it is added,—and they are not loved the less for that,—they are ill-tempered to strangers.

THE LION DOG

is a diminutive likeness of the noble animal whose name it bears. Its head, neck, shoulders, and fore-legs down to the very feet, are covered with long, wavy, silky hairs. On the other parts of the dog it is so short as scarcely to be grasped, except that on the tail there is a small bush of hair. The origin of this breed is not known; it is, perhaps, an intermediate one between the Maltese and the Turkish dog.

THE TURKISH DOG,

as it is improperly called, is a native of hot climates. The supposition of Buffon is not an improbable one, that, being taken from some temperate country to one considerable hotter, the European dog probably acquired some cutaneous disease. This is no uncommon occurrence in Guinea, the East Indies, and South America. Some of these animals afterwards found their way into Europe, and, from their singularity, care was taken to multiply the breed. Aldrovandus states that the first two of them made their appearance in Europe in his time, but the breed was not continued, on account, as it was supposed, of the climate being too cold for them.

The few that are occasionally seen in England bear about them every mark of a degenerated race. They have no activity, and they show little intelligence or affection. One singular circumstance appertains to all that the author of this work has had the opportunity of seeing,—their teeth become very early diseased, and drop from the gums. That eminent zoologist, Mr. Yarrell, examining, with the author of this work, one that had died, certainly not more than five years old, found that it had neither incisors nor canine teeth, and that the molars were reduced to one on each side, the large tubercular tooth being the only one that was remaining. At the scientific meeting of the Zoological Society, the same gentleman stated, that he had examined the mouths of two individuals of the same variety, then alive at the gardens, in both of which the teeth were remarkably deficient. In neither of them were there any false molars, and the incisors in both were deficient in number. Before the age of four years the tongue is usually disgustingly hanging from the mouths of these animals.

THE ALPINE SPANIEL, OR BERNARDINE DOG,

is a breed almost peculiar to the Alps, and to the district between Switzerland and Savoy. The passes over these mountains are exceedingly dangerous from their steepness and narrowness. A precipice of many hundred feet is often found on one side, and perpendicular rocks on the other, while the path is glazed with frozen snow or ice. In many places the path is overhung with huge masses of frozen snow, which occasionally loosen and fall, when the dreadful storms peculiar to these regions suddenly come on, and form an insurmountable barrier, or sweep away or bury the unfortunate traveller. Should he escape these dangers, the path is now become trackless, and he wanders amid the dreary solitudes until night overtakes him; and then, when he pauses from fatigue or uncertainty with regard to the path he should pursue, his limbs are speedily benumbed. Fatal slumbers, which he cannot shake off, steal upon him, and he crouches under some ledge and sleeps, to wake no more. The snow drifts on. It is almost continually falling, and he is soon concealed from all human help.

On the top of Mount St. Bernard, and near one of the most dangerous of these passes, is a convent, in which is preserved a breed of large dogs trained to search for the benighted and frozen wanderer. Every night, and particularly when the wind blows tempestuously, some of these dogs are sent out. They traverse every path about the mountains, and their scent is so exquisite that they can discover the traveller, although he may lie many feet deep in the snow. Having found him, they set to work and endeavour to scrape away the snow, uttering a deep bark that reverberates from rock to rock, and tells those who are watching in the convent that some poor wretch is in peril. Generally, a little flask of spirits is tied round the neck of the animal, by drinking which the benighted traveller may recruit his strength, until more effectual rescue arrive. The monks hasten in the direction of the sound, and often succeed in rekindling the vital spark before it is quite extinguished. Very many travellers have been thus rescued from death by these benevolent men and their intelligent and interesting quadruped servants.

One of these Bernardine dogs, named Barry, had a medal tied round his neck as a badge of honourable distinction, for he had saved the lives of forty persons. He at length died nobly in his vocation. A Piedmontese courier arrived at St. Bernard on a very stormy day, labouring to make his way to the little village of St. Pierre, in the valley beneath the mountain, where his wife and children lived. It was in vain that the monks attempted to check his resolution to reach his family. They at last gave him two guides, each of whom was accompanied by a dog, one of which was the remarkable creature whose service had been so valuable. Descending from the convent, they were overwhelmed by two avalanches or heaps of falling snow, and the same destruction awaited the family of the poor courier, who were travelling up the mountain in the hope of obtaining some news of the husband and father.

A beautiful engraving has been made of this noble dog. It represents him as saving a child which he had found in the Glacier of Balsore, and cherished, and warmed, and induced to climb on his shoulders, and thus preserved from, otherwise, certain destruction.

THE NEWFOUNDLAND DOG.

The Newfoundland is a spaniel of large size. He is a native of the island of which he bears the name; but his history is disgraceful to the owners of so valuable an animal. The employment of the lower classes of the inhabitants of St. John, in Newfoundland, is divided between the cutting of wood, and the drawing of it and other merchandise in the winter, and fishing in the summer.

The carts used in the winter work are drawn by these dogs, who are almost invariably urged and goaded on beyond their strength, fed only with putrid salt-fish, and an inadequate quantity even of that. A great many of them are worn out and die before the winter is over; and, when the summer approaches, and the fishing season commences, many of them are quite abandoned, and, uniting with their companions, prowl about preying on the neighbouring flocks, or absolutely starving.

Mr. Macgregor, however, states that

"in almost every other part of British America they are valuable and useful. They are remarkably docile and obedient to their masters, serviceable in all the fishing countries, and yoked in pairs to draw the winter's fuel home. They are faithful, good-natured, and ever friendly to man. They will defend their master and their master's property, and suffer no person to injure either the one or the other; and, however extreme may be the danger, they will not leave them for a minute. They seem only to want the faculty of speech, in order to make their good wishes and feelings understood, and they are capable of being trained for all the purposes for which every other variety of the canine species is used".[1]

That which most recommends the Newfoundland dog is his fearlessness of water, and particularly as connected with the preservation of human life. The writer of the present work knows one of these animals that has preserved from drowning four human beings.

[This breed of dog, though much esteemed both in England and other portions of the world, as well for his majestic appearance as for many useful and winning traits of character, has but few sportsmen as patrons with us. He is not only used in England as a water-dog for the pursuit of wild fowl, but has been trained by many sportsmen to hunt on partridges, woodcocks, and pheasants, and is represented by Captain Hawker and others as surpassing all others of the canine race, in finding wounded game of every description.

Mr. Blain remarks that,

"as a retriever, the Newfoundland dog is easily brought to do almost anything that is required of him, and he is so tractable, likewise, that, with the least possible trouble, he may be safely taken among pointers to the field, with whose province he will not interfere, but will be overjoyed to be allowed to look up the wounded game, which he will do with a perseverance that no speed and no distance can slacken, nor any hedge-row baulk. In cover he is very useful; some, indeed, shoot woodcocks to a Newfoundland, and he never shines more than when he is returning with a woodcock, pheasant, or hare, in his mouth, which he yields up, or even puts into your hand unmutilated."

Notwithstanding the high commendations of these gentlemen, we cannot look upon the Newfoundland in any other light than that of a dog, whose powers of sagacity are destined for display in the water.

In contending with this element, either in the preservation of human life, or in search of wounded fowl, he has no equal, and volumes might be filled with accounts of his various daring achievements in this particular branch, not only in England, but on the rivers of our own country. Mr. Blain mentions two varieties of these dogs as being common in England, the Labrador and St. John. The former is very large, rough-haired, and carries his tail very high; the latter is smaller, more docile, and sagacious in the extreme, and withal much more manageable. We were not aware of these varieties, and more particularly as regards the difference in docility and sagacity, but are convinced, from subsequent observations, that such is the case even in our own country, for we have often noticed a great dissimilarity in the size and appearance of these dogs and attributed it to the effects of the climate and cross breeding with inferior animals. We are indebted to Mr. Skinner for bringing before the public a faithful and minute account of two of these animals imported into this country by Mr. Law, of Baltimore, and may be pardoned for giving again publicity to this gentleman's letter in relation to these two sagacious brutes.

BALTIMORE, MARYLAND, January 7th, 1845.

"MY DEAR SIR:—In the fall of 1807 I was on board of the ship Canton, belonging to my uncle, the late Hugh Thompson, of Baltimore, when we fell in, at sea, near the termination of a very heavy equinoctial gale, with an English brig in a sinking condition, and took off the crew. The brig was loaded with codfish, and was bound to Poole, in England, from Newfoundland. I boarded her, in command of a boat from the Canton, which was sent to take off the English crew, the brig's own boats having been all swept away, and her crew in a state of intoxication. I found on board of her two Newfoundland pups, male and female, which I saved, and, subsequently, on our landing the English crew at Norfolk, our own destination being Baltimore, I purchased these two pups of the English captain for a guinea a-piece. Being bound again to sea, I gave the dog-pup, which was called Sailor, to Mr. John Mercer, of West River; and the slut-pup, which was called Canton, to Doctor James Stewart, of Sparrow's Point. The history which the English captain gave me of these pups was, that the owner of his brig was extensively engaged in the Newfoundland trade, and had directed his correspondent to select and send him a pair of pups of the most approved Newfoundland breed, but of different families, and that the pair I purchased of him were selected under this order. The dog was of a dingy red colour, and the slut black. They were not large; their hair was short, but very thick coated; they had dew claws. Both attained great reputation as water-dogs. They were most sagacious in everything, particularly so in all duties connected with duck-shooting. Governor Lloyd exchanged a Mexican ram for the dog at the time of the merino fever, when such rams were selling for many hundred dollars, and took him over to his estate on the eastern shore of Maryland, where his progeny were well known for many years after, and may still he known there, and on the western shore, as the Sailor breed. The slut remained at Sparrow's Point till her death, and her progeny were, and are still, well known through Patapsco Neck, on the Gunpowder, and up the bay, amongst the duck-shooters, as unsurpassed for their purposes. I have heard both Doctor Stewart and Mr. Mercer relate most extraordinary instances of the sagacity and performances of both dog and slut, and would refer you to their friends for such particulars as I am unable, at this distance of time, to recollect with sufficient accuracy to repeat.

Yours, in haste,

GEORGE LAW."

These dogs are represented as being of fine carriage, broad-chested, compact figure, and in every respect built for strength and activity.

Their patience and endurance were very great when pursuing wounded ducks through the floating ice, and when fatigued from extraordinary exertions were known to rest themselves upon broken portions of ice till sufficiently recovered again to commence the chase. We have seen some of the descendants of these sagacious animals on the Chesapeake, engaged, not only in bringing the ducks from the water when shot, but also toling them into shore within range of the murderous batteries concealed behind the blind.

This may not be an inappropriate place to speak of this wonderful mode of decoying ducks, termed toling, so extensively practised upon the Chesapeake bay and its tributaries, where the canvass-back and red-heads resort in such numerous quantities every fall. A species of mongrel water-dog, or often any common cur, is taught to run backwards and forwards after stones, sticks, or other missiles thrown from one side to the other. In his activity and industry in this simple branch of education, within the comprehension of any dog, consists the almost incredible art of toling the canvass-back.

With a dog of this character, the shooting party, consisting of several persons all prepared with heavy double-barrelled duck-guns, ensconce themselves at break of day behind some one of the numerous blinds temporarily erected along the shore contiguous to the feeding-grounds of these ducks. Everything being arranged, and the morning mists cleared off, the ducks will be seen securely feeding on the shallows not less than several hundreds of yards from the shore. The dog is now put in motion by throwing stones from one side of the blind to the other. This will soon be perceived by the ducks, who, stimulated by an extreme degree of curiosity, and feeling anxious to inform themselves as to this sudden and singular phenomenon, raise their heads high in the water and commence swimming for the shore. The dog being kept in motion, the ducks will not arrest their progress until within a few feet of the water's edge, and oftentimes will stand on the shore staring, as it were, in mute and silly astonishment at the playful motions of the dog.

If well trained the dog takes no notice whatever of the duck, but continues his fascination until the quick report of the battery announces to him that his services are now wanted in another quarter, and he immediately rushes into the water to arrest the flight of the maimed and wounded, who, struggling on every side, dye the water with their rich blood.

The discovery of this mode of decoying ducks was quite an accident, being attributed to a circumstance noticed by a sportsman, who, concealed behind a blind patiently awaiting the near approach of the canvass-back, observed that they suddenly lifted up their heads and moved towards the shore. Wondering at this singular and unusual procedure on the part of this wray bird, he naturally looked round to discover the cause, and observed a young fox sporting upon the river bank, and the ducks, all eagerness to gaze upon him, were steering their course directly for the shore.

These ducks will not only be decoyed by the dog, but will often come in by waving a fancy coloured handkerchief attached to the ramrod. We have seen a dog fail to attract their attention till bound around the loins with a white handkerchief, and then succeed perfectly well. The toling season continues about three weeks from the first appearance of the ducks, often a much shorter time, as these birds become more cautious, and are no longer deceived in this way.

The canvass-back toles better than any other duck; in fact, it is asserted by many sportsmen, that this particular variety alone can be decoyed in this mode. There are always numbers of other ducks feeding with the canvass-back, particularly the red-heads and black-necks, who partake of the top of the grass that the canvas-back discards after eating off the root, which is a kind of celery. These ducks, though they come in with the canvass-back when toled, do not seem to take any notice whatever of the dog, but continue to swim along, carelessly feeding, as if entrusting themselves entirely to the guidance of the other ducks.

As far as we have been able to judge, we are inclined to this opinion also, and do not recollect ever having succeeded in toling any other species of duck, unaccompanied by the canvass-back, although we have made the effort many times. These ducks are a very singular bird, and although very cunning under ordinary circumstances, seem perfectly bewildered upon this subject, as we were one of a party several years since, who actually succeeded in decoying the same batch of ducks three successive times in the course of an hour, and slaying at each fire a large number, as we counted out over forty at the conclusion of the sport.

Although the toling of ducks is so simple in its process, there are few dogs that have sufficient industry and perseverance to arrive at any degree of perfection in the art. The dog, if not possessed of some sagacity and considerable training, is very apt to tire and stop running when the ducks have got near to the shore, but too far to be reached by the guns, which spoils all, as the birds are very apt to swim or fly off if the motion of the animal is arrested for a few moments.—L.]

A native of Germany was travelling one evening on foot through Holland, accompanied by a large dog. Walking on a high bank which formed one side of a dyke, his foot slipped, and he was precipitated into the water; and, being unable to swim, soon became senseless. When he recovered his recollection, he found himself in a cottage on the contrary side of the dyke, surrounded by peasants, who had been using the means for the recovery of drowned persons. The account given by one of them was, that, returning home from his labour, he observed at a considerable distance a large dog in the water, swimming and dragging, and sometimes pushing along something that he seemed to have great difficulty in supporting, but which he at length succeeded in getting into a small creek on the opposite side. When the animal had pulled what he had hitherto supported as far out of the water as he was able, the peasant discovered that it was the body of a man, whose face and hands the dog was industriously licking. The peasant hastened to a bridge across the dyke, and, having obtained assistance, the body was conveyed to a neighbouring house, where proper means soon restored the drowned man to life. Two very considerable bruises, with the marks of teeth, appeared, one on his shoulder and the other on his poll; hence it was presumed that the faithful beast had first seized his master by the shoulder, and swam with him in this manner for some time, but that his sagacity had prompted him to quit this hold, and to shift it to the nape of the neck, by which he had been enabled to support the head out of water; and in this way he had conveyed him nearly a quarter of a mile before he had brought him to the creek, where the banks were low and accessible.

Dr. Beattie relates an instance of a gentleman attempting to cross the river Dee, then frozen over, near Aberdeen. The ice gave way about the middle of the river; but, having a gun in his hand, he supported himself by placing it across the opening. His dog then ran to a neighbouring village, where, with the most significant gestures, he pulled a man by the coat, and prevailed on him to follow him. They arrived at the spot just in time to save the drowning man's life.

Of the noble disposition of the Newfoundland dog, Dr. Abel, in one of his lectures on Phrenology, relates a singular instance.

"When this dog left his master's house, he was often assailed by a number of little noisy dogs in the street. He usually passed them with apparent unconcern, as if they were beneath his notice; but one little cur was particularly troublesome, and at length carried his impudence so far as to bite the Newfoundland dog in the leg. This was a degree of wanton insult beyond what he could patiently endure; and he instantly turned round, ran after the offender, and seized him by the skin of the back. In this way he carried him in his mouth to the quay, and, holding him some time over the water, at length dropped him into it. He did not, however, seem to design that the culprit should be punished capitally. He waited a little while, until the poor animal, who was unused to that element, was not only well ducked, but nearly sinking, and then plunged in, and brought him safe to land."

"It would be difficult," says Dr. Hancock, in his Essay on Instinct, "to conceive any punishment more aptly contrived or more completely in character. Indeed, if it were fully analyzed, an ample commentary might be written in order to show what a variety of comparisons and motives and generous feelings entered into the composition of this act."

No one ever drew more legitimate consequence from certain existing premises.

One other story should not be omitted of this noble breed of water-dogs. A vessel was driven on the beach of Lydd, in Kent. The surf was rolling furiously. Eight poor fellows were crying for help, but not a boat could be got off to their assistance. At length a gentleman came on the beach accompanied by his Newfoundland dog: he directed the attention of the animal to the vessel, and put a short stick into his mouth. The intelligent and courageous fellow at once understood his meaning, sprung into the sea, and fought his way through the waves. He could not, however, get close enough to the vessel to deliver that with which he was charged; but the crew understood what was meant, and they made fast a rope to another piece of wood, and threw it towards him. The noble beast dropped his own piece of wood and immediately seized that which had been cast to him, and then, with a degree of strength and determination scarcely credible,—for he was again and again lost under the waves,—he dragged it through the surge and delivered it to his master. A line of communication was thus formed, and every man on board was rescued.

There is, however, a more remarkable fact recorded in the Penny Magazine.

"During a heavy gale a ship had struck on a rock near the land. The only chance of escape for the shipwrecked was to get a rope ashore; for it was impossible for any boat to live in the sea as it was then running. There were two Newfoundland dogs and a bull-dog on board. One of the Newfoundland dogs was thrown overboard, with a rope thrown round him, and perished in the waves. The second shared a similar fate: but the bull-dog fought his way through that terrible sea, and, arriving safe onshore, rope and all, became the saviour of the crew."

Some of the true Newfoundland dogs have been brought to Europe and have been used as retrievers. They are principally valuable for the fearless manner in which they will penetrate the thickest cover. They are comparatively small, but muscular, strong, and generally black. A larger variety has been bred, and is now perfectly established. He is seldom used as a sporting dog, or for draught, but is admired on account of his stature and beauty, and the different colours with which he is often marked. Perhaps he is not quite so good-natured and manageable as the smaller variety, and yet it is not often that much fault can be found with him on this account.

A noble animal of this kind was presented to the Zoological Society by His Royal Highness Prince Albert. He is a great ornament to the gardens; but he had been somewhat unmanageable, and had done some mischief before he was sent thither.

A portion of Lord Byron's beautiful epitaph on the death of his Newfoundland dog will properly close our account of this animal:

"The poor dog! In life the firmest friend, The first to welcome, foremost to defend; Whose honest heart is still his master's own; Who labours, fights, lives, breathes for him alone."

[Notwithstanding the many excellent qualities so conspicuous in this noble breed of dog, he is said to possess one most ungenerous trait of character, "a peculiar antipathy to sheep," and if not early trained to endure their presence, will take every opportunity to destroy these innocent animals.]

THE ESQUIMAUX DOG

is a beast of burden and of draught, usefully employed by the inhabitants of the extreme parts of North America and the neighbouring islands. When the Esquimaux Indian goes in pursuit of the seal, the rein-deer, or the bear, his dogs carry the materials of his temporary hut, and the few necessaries of his simple life; or, yoked to the sledge, often draw him and his family full sixty miles a-day over the frozen plains of these inhospitable regions. At other times they assist in the chase, and run down and destroy the bear and the rein-deer on land, and the seal on the coast.

These dogs are very early trained to the work which they are destined to follow, and even at the tender age of four or five months are harnessed together or in company with older animals, and are compelled, either by persuasion or brutal chastisement, to draw heavy weights, and thus soon become accustomed to the trammels of the rude gearing, and familiar with the service that they afterwards perform with so much sagacity and alacrity.

Capt. Lyon states that they are very similar in appearance to the shepherd dog of England, but more muscular and broad chested, owing to severe work; ears pointed, of a savage appearance; the finer dogs are equal to the Newfoundland breed in point of height and general symmetry.

It is also somewhat curious to be informed that these dogs have no particular season of oestrum, but bear young indiscriminately at all times of the year, cold or warm, having very little or no effect upon their reproductive powers, being often seen in heat during the month of December when the thermometer was forty degrees below zero.

Their journeys are often without any certain object; but, if the dogs scent the deer or the bear, they gallop away in that direction until their prey is within reach of the driver, or they are enabled to assist in destroying their foe. Captain Parry, in his Journal of a 'Second Voyage for the Discovery of a North-West Passage', gives an amusing account of these expeditions.

"A number of dogs, varying from six to twelve, are attached to each sledge by means of a single trace, but with no reins. An old and tried dog is placed as the leader, who, in their simple journeys, and when the chase is the object, steadily obeys the voice of the driver sitting in front of the sledge, with a whip long enough to reach the leader. This whip, however, is used as seldom as possible; for these dogs, although tractable, are ferocious, and will endure little correction. When the whip is applied with severity on one, he falls upon and worries his neighbour, and he, in his turn, attacks a third, and there is a scene of universal confusion, or the dogs double from side to side to avoid the whip, and the traces become entangled, and the safety of the sledge endangered. The carriage must then be stopped, each dog put into his proper place, and the traces re-adjusted. This frequently happens several times in the course of the day. The driver therefore depends principally on the docility of the leader, who, with admirable precision, quickens or slackens his pace, and starts off or stops, or turns to the right or left, at the summons of his master. When they are journeying homeward, or travelling to some spot to which the leader has been accustomed to go, he is generally suffered to pursue his own course; for, although every trace of the road is lost in the drifting snow, he scents it out, and follows it with undeviating accuracy. Even the leader, however, is not always under the control of his master. If the journey lies homeward, he will go his own pace, and that is usually at the top of his speed; or, if any game starts, or he scents it at a distance, no command of his driver will restrain him. Neither the dog nor his master is half civilized or subdued."

Each of these dogs will draw a weight of 120 lb. over the snow, at the rate of seven or eight miles an hour.

[It is extraordinary to consider the powers and wonderful speed of these animals, almost equalling that of many horses.

Captain Lyon informs us that three dogs drew a sledge weighing 100 lbs. and himself, one mile in six minutes; his leader dog, which is generally more powerful than the others, drew 196 lb. the same distance in eight minutes; seven dogs ran one mile in four minutes and thirty seconds, with a heavy sledge full of men attached to them; ten dogs ran one mile in five minutes; nine dogs drew 1611 lb. the same distance in nine minutes.—'Lyon's Journal', p. 243.—L.]

In summer, many of these dogs are used as beasts of burden, and each carries from thirty to fifty pounds. They are then much better kept than in the winter; for they have the remains of the whale and sea-calf, which their masters disdain to eat. The majority, however, are sent adrift in the summer, and they live on the produce of the chase or of their constant thievery. The exactness with which, the summer being past, each returns to his master, is an admirable proof of sagacity, and frequently of attachment.

In some parts of Siberia, on the borders of the Oby, there are established relays of dogs, like the post-horses in other countries. Four of these are attached to a very light vehicle; but, when much haste is required, or any very heavy goods are to be conveyed, more than treble or quadruple that number are harnessed to the vehicle. M. de Lesseps [2] gives an almost incredible account of this. He is speaking of the voracity of these poor beasts, in the midst of the snowy desert, with little or no food.

"We had unharnessed our dogs, in order to bring them closer together, in the ordinary way; but, the moment they were brought up to the pole, they seized their harness, constructed of the thickest and toughest leather, and tore it to pieces, and devoured it. It was in vain that we attempted every means of restraint. A great number of them escaped into the wilds around, others wandered here and there, and seized everything that came within their reach, and which their teeth could destroy. Almost every minute some one of them fell exhausted, and immediately became the prey of the others. Every one that could get within reach struggled for his share. Every limb was disputed, and torn away by a troop of rivals, who attacked all within their reach. As soon as one fell by exhaustion or accident, he was seized by a dozen others, and destroyed in the space of a few minutes. In order to defend ourselves from this crowd of famished beasts, we were compelled to have recourse to our bludgeons and our swords. To this horrible scene of mutual destruction succeeded, on the following day, the sad appearance of those that surrounded the sledge, to which we had retreated for safety and for warmth. They were thin, and starved, and miserable; they could scarcely move; their plaintive and continual howlings seemed to claim our succour; but there was no possibility of relieving them in the slightest degree, except that some of them crept to the opening in our carriage through which the smoke escapes; and the more they felt the warmth closer they crept, and then, through mere feebleness, losing their equilibrium, they rolled into the fire before our eyes."

These dogs are not so high as the common pointer, but much larger and stouter, although their thick hair, three or four inches long in the winter, gives them an appearance of more stoutness than they possess. Under this hair is a coating of fine close soft wool, which begins to grow in the early part of winter, and drops off in the spring. Their muzzles are sharp and generally black, and their ears erect.

The Greenland, and Siberian, and Kamtschatdale are varieties of the Esquimaux or Arctic dogs, but enlarged in form, and better subdued. The docility of some of these is equal to that of any European breed.

A person of the name of Chabert, who was afterwards better known by the title of "Fire King," had a beautiful Siberian dog, who would draw him in a light carriage 20 miles a day. He asked L200 for him, and sold him for a considerable portion of that sum; for he was a most beautiful animal of his kind, and as docile as he was beautiful. Between the sale and the delivery, the dog fell and broke his leg. Chabert, to whom the price agreed on was of immense consequence, was in despair. He took the dog at night to a veterinary surgeon. He formally introduced them to each other. He talked to the dog, pointed to his leg, limped around the room, then requested the surgeon to apply some bandages around the leg, and he seemed to walk sound and well. He patted the dog on the head, who was looking alternately at him and the surgeon, desired the surgeon to pat him, and to offer him his hand to lick, and then, holding up his finger to the dog, and gently shaking his head, quitted the room and the house. The dog immediately laid himself down, and submitted to a reduction of the fracture, and the bandaging of the limb, without a motion, except once or twice licking the hand of the operator. He was quite submissive, and in a manner motionless, day after day, until, at the expiration of a month, the limb was sound. Not a trace of the fracture was to be detected, and the purchaser, who is now living, knew nothing about it.

The employment of the Esquimaux dogs is nearly the same as those from Newfoundland, and most valuable they are to the traveller who has to find his way over the wild and trackless regions of the north. The manner, however, in which they are generally treated seems ill calculated to cause any strong or lasting attachment. During their period of labour, they, like their brethren in Newfoundland, are fed sparingly on putrid fish, and in summer they are turned loose to shift for themselves until the return of the severe season renders it necessary to their masters' interest that they should again be sought for, and once more reduced to their state of toil and slavery.

They have been known for several successive days to travel more than 60 miles. They seldom miss their road, although they may be driven over one untrodden snowy plain, where they are occasionally unable to reach any place of shelter. When, however, night comes, they partake with their master of the scanty fare which the sledge will afford, and, crowding round, keep him warm and defend him from danger. If any of them fall victims to the hardships to which they are exposed, their master or their companions frequently feed on their remains, and their skins are converted into warm and comfortable dresses.

THE LAPLAND DOG.

Captain Clarke thus describes the Lapland dog:

"We had a valuable companion in a dog belonging to one of the boatmen. It was of the true Lapland breed, and in all respects similar to a wolf, excepting the tail, which was bushy and curled like those of the Pomeranian race. This dog, swimming after the boat, if his master merely waved his hand, would cross the lake as often as he pleased, carrying half his body and the whole of his head and tail out of the water. Wherever he landed, he scoured all the long grass by the side of the lake in search of wild-fowl, and came back to us, bringing wild-ducks in his mouth to the boat, and then, having delivered his prey to his master, he would instantly set off again in search of more." [3]

But we pass on to another and more valuable species of the dog:

THE SHEEP-DOG.

The origin of the sheep-dog is somewhat various; but the predominant breed is that of the intelligent and docile spaniel. Although it is now found in every civilized country in which the sheep is cultivated, ii is not coeval with the domestication of that animal. When the pastures were in a manner open to the first occupant, and every shepherd had a common property in them, it was not so necessary to restrain the wandering of the sheep, and the voice of the shepherd was usually sufficient to collect and to guide them. He preceded the flock, and they "followed him whithersoever he went." In process of time, however, man availed himself of the sagacity of the dog to diminish his own labour and fatigue, and this useful servitor became the guide and defender of the flock.

The sheep-dog possesses much of the same form and character in every country. The muzzle is sharp, the ears are short and erect, and the animal is covered, particularly about the neck, with thick and shaggy hair. He has usually two dew claws on each of the hind legs; not, however, as in the one claw of other dogs, having a jointed attachment to the limb, but merely connected by the skin and some slight cellular substance. These excrescences should be cut off when the dog is young. The tail is slightly turned upwards and long, and almost as bushy as that of a fox, even in that variety whose coat is almost smooth. He is of a black colour or black prevails, mixed with gray or brown.

Professor Grognier gives the following account of this dog as he is found in France:

"The shepherd's dog, the least removed from the natural type of the dog, is of a middle size; his ears short and straight; the hair long, principally on the tail, and of a dark colour; the tail is carried horizontally or a little elevated. He is very indifferent to caresses. possessed of much intelligence and activity to discharge the duties for which he was designed. In one or other of its varieties it is found in every part of France. Sometimes there is but a single breed, in others there are several varieties. It lives and maintains its proper characteristics, while other races often degenerate. Everywhere it preserves its proper distinguishing type. It is the servant of man, while other breeds vary with a thousand circumstances. It has one appropriate mission, and that it discharges in the most admirable way: there is evidently a kind and wise design in this."

This account of the French sheep-dog, or of the sheep-dog everywhere, is as true as it is beautiful. One age succeeds to another, we pass from one climate to another, and everything varies and changes, but the shepherd's dog is what he ever was—the guardian of our flocks. There are, however, two or more species of this dog; the one which Professor Grognier has described, and which guards and guides the sheep in the open and level country, where wolves seldom intrude; another crossed with the mastiff, or little removed from that dog, used in the woody and mountainous countries, their guard more than their guide. [4] In Great Britain, where he has principally to guide and not to guard the flock, he is comparatively a small dog. He is so in the northern and open parts of the country, where activity is principally wanted; but, in the more enclosed districts, and where strength is often needed to turn an obstinate sheep, he is crossed with some larger dog, as the rough terrier, or sometimes the pointer, or now and then the bull-dog: in fact, almost any variety that has strength and stoutness may be employed. Thus we obtain the larger sheep-dog and the drover's dog. The sagacity, forbearance, and kindness of the sheep-dog are generally retained, but from these crosses there is occasionally a degree of ferocity from which the sheep often suffer.

In other countries, where the flock is exposed to the attack of the wolf, the sheep-dog is larger than the British drover's dog, and not far inferior in size to the mastiff. The strength and ferocity which qualify him to combat with the wolf, would occasionally be injurious or fatal to those who somewhat obstinately opposed his direction; therefore, in Denmark and in Spain, the dog is rarely employed to drive the flock. It is the office of the shepherd, to know every individual under his charge, to, as in olden times, "call them all by their names," and have always some docile and tamed wether who will take the lead, almost as subservient to his voice as is the dog himself, and whom the flock will immediately follow.

In whatever country the dog is used, partly or principally to protect the flock from the ravages of the wolf, he is as gentle as a lamb, except when opposed to his natural enemy; and it is only in England that the guardian of the sheep occasionally injures and worries them, and that many can be found bearing the mark of the tooth. This may he somewhat excusable (although it is often carried to a barbarous extent) in the drover's dog; but it will admit of no apology in the shepherd's dog. It is the result of the idleness of the boy, or the mingled brutality and idleness of the shepherd, who is attempting to make the dog do his own work and that of his master too. We have admired the Prussian sheep-dog in the discharge of his duty, and have seen him pick out the marked sheep, or stop and turn the flock, as cleverly as any Highland colley, but he never bit them. He is a shorter, stronger, and more compact dog than ours. He pushes against them and forces them along. If they rebel against this mild treatment, the shepherd is at hand to enforce obedience; and the flock is as easily and perfectly managed as any English or Highland one, and a great deal more so than the majority that we have seen.

Mr. Trimmer, in his work on the Merinos, speaking of the Spanish flocks, says:

"There is no driving of the flock; that is a practice entirely unknown; but the shepherd, when he wishes to remove his sheep, calls to him a tame wether accustomed to feed from his hands. The favourite, however distant, obeys his call, and the rest follow. One or more of the dogs, with large collars armed with spikes, in order to protect them from the wolves, precede the flock, others skirt it on each side, and some bring up the rear. If a sheep be ill or lame, or lag behind unobserved by the shepherds, they stay with it and defend it until some one return in search of it. With us, dogs are too often used for other and worse purposes. In open, unenclosed districts, they are indispensable; but in others I wish them, I confess, either managed, or encouraged less. If a sheep commits a fault in the sight of an intemperate shepherd, or accidentally offends him, it is 'dogged' into obedience: the signal is given, the dog obeys the mandate, and the poor sheep flies round the field to escape from the fangs of him who should be his protector, until it becomes half dead with fright and exhaustion, while the trembling flock crowd together dreading the same fate, and the churl exults in this cowardly victory over a weak and defenceless animal." [5]

If the farmer will seriously calculate the number of ewes that have yeaned before their time, and of the lambs that he has lost, and the accidents that have occurred from the sheep pressing upon one another in order to escape from the dog, and if he will also take into account the continual disturbance of the sheep while grazing, by the approach of the dog, and the consequent interference with the cropping and the digestion of the food, he will attach more importance to the good temper of the dog and of the shepherd than he has been accustomed to do. There would be no injustice, or rather a great deal of propriety, in inflicting a fine for every tooth-mark that could be detected. When the sheep, instead of collecting round the dog, and placing themselves under his protection on any sudden alarm, uniformly fly from him with terror, the farmer may he assured there is something radically wrong in the management of the flock.

Instinct and education combine to fit this dog for our service. The pointer will act without any great degree of instruction, and the setter will crouch; and most certainly the sheep-dog, and especially if he has the example of an older and expert one, will, almost without the teaching of the master, become everything that can be wished, obedient to every order, even to the slightest motion of the hand. There is a natural predisposition for the office he has to discharge, which it requires little trouble or skill to develop and perfect.

It is no unpleasing employment to study the degree in which the several breeds of dogs are not only highly intelligent, but fitted by nature for the particular duty they have to perform. The pointer, the setter, the hound, the greyhound, the terrier, the spaniel, and even the bull-dog, were made, and almost perfected, by nature chiefly for one office alone, although they maybe useful in many other ways. This is well illustrated in the sheep-dog. If he be but with his master, he lies content, indifferent to every surrounding object, seemingly half asleep and half awake, rarely mingling with his kind, rarely courting, and generally shrinking from, the notice of a stranger; but the moment duty calls, his sleepy, listless eye, becomes brightened; he eagerly gazes on his master, inquires and comprehends all he is to do, and, springing up, gives himself to the discharge of his duty with a sagacity, and fidelity, and devotion, too rarely equalled even by man himself.

Mr. James Hogg, the Ettrick Shepherd, living in his early days among the sheep and their quadruped attendants, and an accurate observer of nature, as well an exquisite poet, gives some anecdotes of the colley, (the Highland term for sheep-dog), with which the reader will not be displeased.

"My dog Sirrah," says he, in a letter to the Editor of 'Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine', "was, beyond all comparison, the best dog I ever saw. He had a somewhat surly and unsocial temper, disdaining all flattery, and refusing to be caressed, but his attention to my commands and interest will never again be equalled by any of the canine race. When I first saw him, a drover was leading him with a rope. He was both lean and hungry, and far from being a beautiful animal; for he was almost black, and had a grim face, striped with dark brown. I thought I perceived a sort of sullen intelligence in his countenance, notwithstanding his dejected and forlorn appearance, and I bought him. He was scarcely a year old, and knew so little of herding that he had never turned a sheep in his life; but, as soon as he discovered that it was his duty to do so, and that it obliged me, I can never forget with what anxiety and eagerness he learned his different evolutions; and when I once made him understand a direction, he never forgot or mistook it."

On one night, a large flock of lambs that were under the Ettrick Shepherd's care, frightened by something, scampered away in three different directions across the hills, in spite of all that he could do to keep them together. "Sirrah," said the shepherd, "they're a' awa!"

It was too dark for the dog and his master to see each other at any considerable distance, but Sirrah understood him, and set off after the fugitives. The night passed on, and Hogg and his assistant traversed every neighbouring hill in anxious but fruitless search for the lambs; but he could hear nothing of them nor of the dog, and he was returning to his master with the doleful intelligence that he had lost all his lambs. "On our way home, however," says he, "we discovered a lot of lambs at the bottom of a deep ravine called the Flesh Cleuch, and the indefatigable Sirrah standing in front of them, looking round for some relief, but still true to his charge. We concluded that it was one of the divisions which Sirrah had been unable to manage, until he came to that commanding situation. But what was our astonishment when we discovered that not one lamb of the flock was missing! How he had got all the divisions collected in the dark, is beyond my comprehension. The charge was left entirely to himself from midnight until the rising sun; and, if all the shepherds in the forest had been there to have assisted him, they could not have effected it with greater promptitude. All that I can say is, that I never felt so grateful to any creature under the sun us I did to my honest Sirrah that morning."

A shepherd, in one of his excursions over the Grampian Hills to collect his scattered flock, took with him (as is a frequent practice, to initiate them in their future business) one of his children about four years old. After traversing his pastures for a while, attended by his dog, he was compelled to ascend a summit at some distance. As the ascent was too great for the child, he left him at the bottom, with strict injunctions not to move from the place. Scarcely, however, had he gained the height, when one of the Scotch mists, of frequent occurrence, suddenly came on, and almost changed the day to night. He returned to seek his child, but was unable to find him, and concluded a long and fruitless search by coming distracted to his cottage. His poor dog also was missing in the general confusion. On the next morning by daylight he renewed his search, but again he came back without his child. He found, however, that during his absence his dog had been home, and, on receiving his allowance of food, instantly departed. For four successive days the shepherd continued his search with the same bad fortune, the dog as readily coming for his meal and departing. Struck by this singular circumstance, he determined to follow the dog, who departed as usual with his piece of cake. The animal led the way to a cataract at some distance from the spot where the child had been left. It was a rugged and almost perpendicular descent which the dog took, and he disappeared in a cave, the mouth of which was almost on a level with the torrent. The shepherd with difficulty followed; but, on entering the cavern, what were his emotions when he beheld the infant eating the cake which the dog had just brought to him, while the faithful animal stood by, eyeing his young charge with the utmost complacency! From the situation in which the child was found, it appeared that he had wandered to the brink of the precipice, and then either fallen or scrambled down, the torrent preventing his re-ascent. The dog by means of his scent had traced him to the spot, and afterwards prevented him from starving by giving up a part, or, perhaps, the whole of his own daily allowance. He appears never to have quitted the child night or day, except for food, as he was seen running at full speed to and from the cottage. [6]

Mr. Hogg says, and very truly, that a single shepherd and his dog will accomplish more in gathering a flock of sheep from a Highland farm than twenty shepherds could do without dogs; in fact, that without this docile animal, the pastoral life would be a mere blank. It would require more hands to manage a flock of sheep, gather them from the hills, force them into houses and folds, and drive them to markets, than the profits of the whole flock would be capable of maintaining. Well may the shepherd feel an interest in his dog; he it is indeed that earns the family bread, of which he is himself content with the smallest morsel: always grateful, and always ready to exert his utmost abilities in his master's interests. Neither hunger, fatigue, nor the worst treatment will drive him from his side, and he will follow him through every hardship without murmur or repining. If one of them is obliged to change masters, it is sometimes long before he will acknowledge the new owner, or condescend to work for him with the willingness that he did for his former lord; but, if he once acknowledges him, he continues attached to him until death. [7]

We will add another story of the colley, and proceed. It illustrates the memory of the dog. A shepherd was employed in bringing up some mountain sheep from Westmoreland, and took with him a young sheep-dog who had never made the journey before. From his assistant being ignorant of the ground, he experienced great difficulty in having the flock stopped at the various roads and lanes he passed in their way to the neighbourhood of London.

In the next year the same shepherd, accompanied by the same dog, brought up another flock for the gentlemen who had had the former one. On being questioned how he had got on, he said much better than the year before, as his dog now knew the road, and had kept the sheep from going up any of the lanes or turnings that had given the shepherd so much trouble on his former journey. The distance could not have been less than 400 miles. [8]

Buffon gives an eloquent and faithful account of the sheep-dog:

"This animal, faithful to man, will always preserve a portion of his empire and a degree of superiority over other beings. He reigns at the head of his flock, and makes himself better understood than the voice of the shepherd. Safety, order, and discipline are the fruits of his vigilance and activity. They are a people submitted to his management, whom he conducts and protects, and against whom he never employs force but for the preservation of good order."

"If we consider that this animal, notwithstanding his ugliness and his wild and melancholy look, is superior in instinct to all others; that he has a decided character in which education has comparatively little share; that he is the only animal born perfectly trained for the service of others; that, guided by natural powers alone, he applies himself to the care of our flocks, a duty which he executes with singular assiduity, vigilance, and fidelity; that he conducts them with an admirable intelligence which is a part and portion of himself; that his sagacity astonishes at the same time that it gives repose to his master, while it requires great time and trouble to instruct other dogs for the purposes to which they are destined: if we reflect on these facts we shall be confirmed in the opinion that the shepherd's dog is the true dog of nature, the stock and model of the whole species." [9]

[After reading the above history of this truly valuable dog, it is almost superfluous for us to attempt to add anything more on this head; however, we must pause for a few moments, to call the attention of our agriculturists and others engaged in raising sheep, to the immense advantages to be derived from the introduction of this sagacious animal throughout our own country.

The increased vigour that is now given for the cultivation of sheep, to supply the necessary demands of the numerous woollen factories springing up in every quarter, renders the services of this faithful creature absolutely indispensable, not only as a guardian of the flocks, but as a mere expedient of economy.

Many portions of our country, now lying idle, particularly the mountainous ranges, are peculiarly adapted for the grazing of sheep, and we are destined not only to supply the world with cotton, but may hope ere long to add to our national wealth the other equally valuable staple commodity, that of wool.

In the care of sheep, each dog not only supplies the place of two or three men, but, as is seen in the foregoing pages, renders such assistance as cannot be obtained from any other source.

The shepherds of Mexico lead a life not unlike the patriarchs of old, shifting about from day to day, watching their immense flocks, attended only by a few dogs, who have the entire control of the sheep, keeping them from straying away, and not only defending them from the blood-thirsty wolf, but even attacking, if necessary, the skulking savage.

These dogs of Mexico are represented as being much larger than the English variety, and no doubt are the descendants of the Spanish shepherd dog, so highly prized in protecting the Merino flocks from the wolves that infest the mountainous parts of Spain, most frequented by the herds during the summer season.

These dogs are the same breed as those engaged by the philanthropic monks of St. Bernard in hunting up the benumbed traveller when sinking from exhaustion, or already overwhelmed by the sudden rushing of an avalanche into some one of the mountain passes.

The original Spanish shepherd dog is a very powerful animal, and even those of Mexico, when armed with spiked collars, are a sufficient match for the largest wolves. Mr. Kendall mentions having met on the grand prairie with a flock of sheep numbering seventeen thousand, which immense herd was guarded by a very few men, assisted by a large number of noble dogs, which appeared gifted with the faculty of keeping them together.

"There was no running about, no barking or biting in their system of tactics; on the contrary, they were continually walking up and down, like faithful sentinels, on the outer side of the flock, and should any sheep chance to stray from his fellows, the dog on duty at that particular post would walk gently up, take him carefully by the ear, and lead him back to the fold. Not the least fear did the sheep manifest at the approach of these dogs, and there was no occasion for it." Vol. I. p. 268.

This account coincides with the remarks of Mr. Trinner upon this dog in old Spain; and Mr. Skinner very justly remarks, that the Mexican sheep-dog has not his equal in any part of the world, except, perhaps, in his native country, and that the Scotch or English dog sinks into insignificance when compared with him.

A flock of a thousand sheep in Spain requires the attendance of two men and an equal number of dogs, who never for a moment quit their charge, watching them without intermission day and night. The great inferiority of the English dogs, may be attributed, perhaps, to their want of care in training and bringing up, which is considered the most essential, and actually the foundation of all their future usefulness with the Mexicans. The pups when first born, are taken from the bitch, and put to a sucking ewe, already deprived of her own lamb. For several days the ewe is confined with the pups in the shepherd's hut, and either from force, or an instinctive desire to be relieved of the contents of the udder, she soon allows the little strangers to suck, and in the course of a few days more, becomes quite reconciled to the change, and exhibits a great degree of affection for her foster children, who, knowing no other parentage, becomes thus early engrafted into the general community, and returns their early kindness by every mark of affection and fidelity hereafter; never being willing for a moment to quit their society, but remains with them night and day, expressing a peculiar attachment to this particular flock, and seeming able to distinguish each member of it from all other intruders.

In the third volume of the 'American Agriculturist' will be found an interesting article connected with this subject, and from which we might extract much useful information, if our limits would allow of its insertion in the present volume.

Mr. Skinner states, that in 1832 he had two of these dogs, a male and female, both trained, but unfortunately lost the latter before obtaining any pups from her; he also remarks, that they can be imported via Havana and Santander, at an expense of not less than $70 or $80. We see no reason why the same dogs might not be obtained at a much less cost by the Santa Fe traders, who, no doubt, would be glad to bring them into the country as companions de voyages, provided there was any demand for them.—L.]

THE DROVER'S DOG

bears considerable resemblance to the sheep-dog, and has usually the same prevailing black or brown colour. He possesses all the docility of the sheep-dog, with more courage, and sometimes a degree of ferocity, exercised without just cause upon his charge, while he is in his turn cruelly used by a brutal master.

There is a valuable cross between the colley and the drover's dog in Westmoreland, and a larger and stronger breed is cultivated in Lincolnshire; indeed it is necessary there, where oxen as well as sheep are usually consigned to the dog's care. A good drover's dog is worth a considerable sum; but the breed is too frequently and injudiciously crossed at the fancy of the owner. Some drovers' dogs are as much like setters, lurchers, and hounds, as they are to the original breed.

Stories are told of the docility and sagacity of the drover's dog even more surprising than any that are related of the sheep-dog. The Ettrick Shepherd says, that a Mr. Steel, butcher in Peebles, had such implicit dependence on the attention of his dog to his orders, that whenever he put a lot of sheep before her, he took a pride in leaving them entirely to her, and either remained to take a glass with the farmer of whom he had made the purchase, or travelled another road to look after bargains or business. At one time, however, he chanced to commit a drove to her charge, at a place called Willenslee, without attending to her condition, which he certainly ought to have done. This farm is about five miles from Peebles, over wild hills, and there is no regularly defined path to it. Whether Mr. Steel chose another road is uncertain; but, on coming home late in the evening, he was surprised to hear that his faithful animal had not made her appearance with her flock. He and his son instantly prepared to set out by different paths in search of her; but, on going into the street, there was she with the flock, and not one of the sheep missing; she, however, was carrying a young pup in her mouth. She had been taken in travail on those hills; and how the poor beast had contrived to manage the sheep in her state of suffering is beyond human calculation, for her road lay through sheep-pastures the whole way. Her master's heart smote him when he saw what she had suffered and effected; but she was nothing daunted; and, having deposited her young one in a place of safety, she again set out at full speed to the hills, and brought another and another little one, until she had removed her whole litter one by one; the last, however, was dead.

Mr. Blaine relates as extraordinary an instance of intelligence, but not mingled, like the former, with natural affection. A butcher and cattle-dealer, who resided about nine miles from Alston, in Cumberland, bought a dog of a drover. The butcher was accustomed to purchase sheep and kine in the vicinity, which, when fattened, he drove to Alston market and sold. In these excursions he was frequently astonished at the peculiar sagacity of his dog, and at the more than common readiness and dexterity with which he managed the cattle; until at length he troubled himself very little about the matter, but, riding carelessly along, used to amuse himself with observing how adroitly the dog acquitted himself of his charge. At length, so convinced was he of his sagacity, as well as fidelity, that he laid a wager that he would intrust the dog with a number of sheep and oxen, and let him drive them alone and unattended to Alston market. It was stipulated that no one should be within sight or hearing who had the least control over the dog, nor was any spectator to interfere. This extraordinary animal, however, proceeded with his business in the most steady and dexterous manner; and, although he had frequently to drive his charge through other herds that were grazing, he did not lose one; but, conducting them to the very yard to which he was used to drive them when with his master, he significantly delivered them up to the person appointed to receive them by barking at his door. When the path which he travelled lay through grounds in which others were grazing, he would run forward, stop his own drove, and then, chasing the others away, collect his scattered charge, and proceed.

THE ITALIAN OR POMERANIAN WOLF-DOG.

The wolf-dog is no longer a native of Great Britain, because his services are not required there, but he is useful in various parts of the Continent, in the protection of the sheep from the attacks of the wolf. A pair of these dogs was brought to the Zoological Society of London in 1833, and there long remained, an ornament to the Gardens. They appeared to possess a considerable degree of strength, but to be too gentle to contend with so powerful and ferocious an animal as the wolf. They were mostly covered with white or gray, or occasionally black hair, short on the head, ears and feet, but long and silky on the body and tail. The forehead is elevated, and the muzzle lengthened and clothed with short hair. The attachment of this dog to his master and the flock is very great, and he has not lost a particle of his sagacity, but, where wolves are common, is still used as a sheep-dog.

THE CUR

is the sheep-dog crossed with the terrier. He has long and somewhat deservedly obtained a very bad name, as a bully and a coward; and certainly his habit of barking at everything that passes, and flying at the heels of the horse, renders him often a very dangerous nuisance: he is, however, in a manner necessary to the cottager; he is a faithful defender of his humble dwelling; no bribe can seduce him from his duty; and he is likewise a useful and an effectual guard over the clothes and scanty provisions of the labourer, who may be working in some distant part of the field. All day long he will lie upon his master's clothes seemingly asleep, but giving immediate warning of the approach of a supposed marauder. He has a propensity, when at home, to fly at every horse and every strange dog; and of young game of every kind there is not a more ruthless destroyer than the village cur.

Mr. Hogg draws the following curious parallel between the sheep-dog and the cur:

"An exceedingly good sheep-dog attends to nothing but the particular branch of business to which he is bred. His whole capacity is exerted and exhausted in it; and he is of little avail in miscellaneous matters; whereas a very indifferent cur bred about the house, and accustomed to assist in everything will often put the more noble breed to disgrace in these little services. If some one calls out that the cows are in the corn or the hens in the garden, the house colley needs no other hint, but runs and turns them out. The shepherd's dog knows not what is astir, and, if he is called out in a hurry for such work, all that he will do is to run to the hill, or rear himself on his haunches to see that no sheep are running away. A well-bred sheep-dog, if coming hungry from the hills, and getting into a milk-house, would likely think of nothing else than filling his belly with the cream. Not so his initiated brother: he is bred at home to far higher principles of honour. I have known such lie night and day among from ten to twenty pails full of milk, and never once break the cream of one of them with the tip of his tongue, nor would he suffer cat, rat, or any other creature to touch it. While, therefore, the cur is a nuisance, he is very useful in his way, and we would further plead for him, that he possesses a great deal of the sagacity and all the fidelity of the choicest breed of dogs."

The dog who, according to the well-known and authentic story, watched the remains of his master for two years in the churchyard of St. Olave's, in Southwark, was a cur.

The following story is strictly authentic:

"Not long ago a young man, an acquaintance of the coachman, was walking, as he had often done, in Lord Fife's stables at Banff. Taking an opportunity, when the servants were not regarding him, he put a bridle into his pocket. A Highland cur that was generally about the stables saw him, and immediately began to bark at him, and when he got to the stable-door would not let him pass, but bit him by the leg in order to prevent him. As the servants had never seen the dog act thus before, and the same young man had been often with them, they could not imagine what could be the reason of the dog's conduct. However, when they saw the end of a valuable bridle peeping out of the young man's pocket, they were able to account for it, and, on his giving it up, the dog left the stable-door, where he had stood, and allowed him to pass." [10]

THE LURCHER.

This dog was originally a cross between the greyhound and the shepherd's dog, retaining all the speed and fondness for the chase belonging to the one, and the superior intelligence and readiness for any kind of work which the latter possessed. This breed has been crossed again with the spaniel, combining the disposition to quest for game which distinguishes the spaniel with the muteness and swiftness of the greyhound. Sometimes the greyhound is crossed with the hound. Whatever be the cross, the greyhound must predominate; but his form, although still to be traced, has lost all its beauty.

The lurcher is a dog seldom found in the possession of the honourable sportsman. The farmer may breed him for his general usefulness, for driving his cattle, and guarding his premises, and occasionally coursing the hare; but other dogs will answer the former purposes much better, while the latter qualification may render him suspected by his landlord, and sometimes be productive of serious injury. In a rabbit-warren this dog is peculiarly destructive. His scent enables him to follow them silently and swiftly. He darts unexpectedly upon them, and, being trained to bring his prey to his master, one of these dogs will often in one night supply the poacher with rabbits and other game worth more money than he could earn by two days' hard labour.

Mr. H. Faull, of Helstone, in Cornwall, lost no fewer than fifteen fine sheep, and some of them store sheep, killed by lurchers in January, 1824. [11]

We now proceed to the different species of dog belonging to the second division of Cuvier, which are classed under the name of Hound; and, first we take

THE BEAGLE.

The origin of this diminutive hound is somewhat obscure. There is evidently much of the harrier and of the old southern, connected with a considerable decrease of size and speed, the possession of an exceedingly musical voice, and very great power of scent. Beagles are rarely more than ten or twelve inches in height, and were generally so nearly of the same size and power of speed, that it was commonly said they might be covered with a sheet. This close running is, however, considered as a mark of excellence in hounds of every kind.

There are many pleasurable recollections of the period when "the good old English gentleman" used to keep his pack of beagles or little harriers, slow but sure, occasionally carried to the field in a pair of panniers on a horse's back; often an object of ridicule at an early period of the chase, but rarely failing to accomplish their object ere the day closed, "the puzzling pack unravelling wile by wile, maze within maze." It was often the work of two or three hours to accomplish this; but is was seldom, in spite of her speed, her shifts, and her doublings, that the hare did not fall a victim to her pursuers.

The slowness of their pace gradually caused them to be almost totally discontinued, until very lately, and especially in the royal park at Windsor, they have been again introduced. Generally speaking, they have all the strength and endurance which is necessary to ensure their killing their game, and are much fleeter than their diminutive size would indicate. Formerly, considerable fancy and even judgment used to be exercised in the breeding of these dogs. They were curiously distinguished by the names of "deep-flewed," or "shallow-flewed," in proportion as they had the depending upper lip of the southern, or the sharper muzzle and more contracted lip of the northern dogs. The shallow-flewed were the swiftest, and the deep-flewed the stoutest and the surest, and their music the most pleasant. The wire-haired beagle was considered as the stouter and better dog.

The form of the head in beagles has been much misunderstood. They have, or should have, large heads, decidedly round, and thick rather than long; there will then be room for the expansion of the nasal membrane, that of smell, and for the reverberation of the sound, so peculiarly pleasant in this dog.

The beagle runs very low to the ground, and therefore has a stronger impression of the scent than taller dogs. This is especially the case when the scent is more than usually low.

Among the advocates for beagles, several years ago, was Colonel Hardy. He used to send his dogs in panniers, and they had a little barn for their kennel. The door was one night broken open, and every hound, panniers and all, stolen. The thief was never discovered, not even suspected.

The use of beagles was soon afterwards nearly abandoned by the introduction of the harrier, and by his yielding in his turn to the fox-hound; but the beagles of Colonel Thornton and Colonel Molyneux will not be soon forgotten. [12]

There is, however, a practice which fair sportsmen will never resort to—the use of a beagle to start a hare in order to be run down by a brace of greyhounds, or perhaps by a lurcher. The hare is not fairly matched in this way of proceeding.

THE HARRIER

occupies an intermediate station between the beagle and the fox-hound. It is the fox-hound bred down to a diminished size, and suited to the animal he is to pursue. He retains, or did for a while retain, the long body, deep chest, large bones, somewhat heavy head, sweeping ears, and mellow voice, which the sportsman of old so enthusiastically described, with the certainty of killing, and the pleasing prolongation of the chase. With this the farmer used to be content: it did not require expensive cattle, was not attended with much hazard of neck, and did not take him far from home.