Chapter I: Part 1

ANECDOTES OF DOGS.

BY

EDWARD JESSE, ESQ.

"Histories are more full of examples of the fidelity of dogs than of friends." POPE.

With numerous Engravings.

LONDON: HENRY G. BOHN, YORK STREET, COVENT GARDEN. MDCCCLVIII.

LONDON: Printed by G. Barclay, Castle St. Leicester Sq.

PREFACE.

The character, sensibilities, and intellectual faculties of animals have always been a favourite study, and they are, perhaps, more strongly developed in the dog than in any other quadruped, from the circumstance of his being the constant companion of man. I am aware how much has been written on this subject, but having accumulated many original and interesting anecdotes of this faithful animal, I have attempted to enlarge the general stock of information respecting it. It is a pleasing task, arising from the conviction that the more the character of the dog is known, the better his treatment is likely to be, and the stronger the sympathy excited in his behalf.

Let me hope, that the examples which are given in the following pages will help to produce this effect, and that a friend so faithful, a protector so disinterested and courageous, will meet with that kindness and affection he so well deserves.

It is now my grateful duty to express my thanks to those friends who have so kindly contributed original anecdotes to this work, and especially to Lady Morgan and Mrs. S. Carter Hall for their remarks on the Irish wolf-dog.

I have also to acknowledge my obligations for various anecdotes illustrative of the character of peculiar dogs, extracted from Colonel Hamilton Smith's volumes in the Naturalist's Library and Captain Brown's interesting sketches; as well to the Editor of the "Irish Penny Magazine" for his extremely well-written account of the Irish wolf-dog; and to other sources too numerous to mention.

The present new edition is considerably enlarged, both in matter and plates, and, to suit the taste of the age is presented in a cheap and popular form.

My Publisher has, as usual, lent his aid, and is responsible for some of the additional anecdotes, for the account of the _Setter_, and for all after page 458, including the chapter "On Feeding and Management."

EDWARD JESSE.

_East Sheen, Sept. 1858._

ENGRAVINGS ON WOOD.

TITLE. PAINTER. ENGRAVER. PAGE

1. Spaniel & Newfoundland Dogs W. Harvey W. Branston 1
2. Retriever W. Harvey W. Branston 54
3. Tail-piece W. P. Smith T. Gilks 83
4. Deer-hounds W. Harvey W. Branston 85
5. Tail-piece W. P. Smith T. Gilks 132
6. Newfoundland Dog W. Harvey W. Branston 133
7. Tail-piece W. P. Smith T. Gilks 184
8. The Colley, or Shepherd's Dog Stewart Pearson 185
9. Tail-piece W. P. Smith T. Gilks 239
10. St. Bernard Dog W. P. Smith T. Gilks 240
11. Chasseur & Cuba Bloodhounds Freeman Whiting 250
12. Tail-piece W. P. Smith T. Gilks 263
13. The Terrier W. Harvey W. Branston 264
14. Tail-piece W. P. Smith T. Gilks 299
15. The Blenheim Spaniel W. Harvey Pearson 300
16. Tail-piece W. P. Smith T. Gilks 330
17. The Poodle Carpendale Pearson 331
18. Tail-piece W. P. Smith T. Gilks 352
19. Vignette W. P. Smith T. Gilks 353
20. Otter Hunting W. P. Smith T. Gilks 361
21. Tail-piece W. Harvey Vizitelly 366
22. Greyhounds W. Harvey Vizitelly 367
23. Tail-piece C. D. Radcliffe E. Landells 382
24. The Pointer W. Harvey W. Branston 383
25. Tail-piece W. P. Smith T. Gilks 399
26. The Setter W. Harvey W. Branston 400
27. Tail-piece Bewick Bewick 411
28. The Comforter W. R. Smith Pearson 412
29. A Pugnacious Pair Cruickshank Cruickshank 417
30. The Foxhound C. D. Radcliffe E. Landells 421
31. Hounds in a Bath C. D. Radcliffe E. Landells 437
32. The Beagle W. R. Smith T. Gilks 438
33. Tail-piece C. D. Radcliffe E. Landells 439
34. The Mastiff W. Harvey Whimper 440
35. Tail-piece W. R. Smith T. Gilks 453
36. The Bull-dog W. Harvey Vizitelly 454
37. Tail-piece W. R. Smith T. Gilks 458
38. Tail-piece Seymour Pearson 481
39. Feeding Hounds C. D. Radcliffe E. Landells 482
40. Tail-piece W. R. Smith T. Gilks 490

CONTENTS.

INTRODUCTION--Value, propensities, and origin of the dog, 1 _et
passim_--the wolf partially domesticated, 6--wild dogs of Ceylon,
15--Sir Walter Scott's bull-dog terrier Camp, 16--the dog and the
pieman, 17--death of a dog from affection for its deceased
mistress, 18--frozen fowls rescued by a house-dog, 19--Sir R.
Brownrigg's dog, 19--the author's terrier Phiz, 20--a dog fond of
travelling by himself, 20--runaway horse caught by a dog, 21--lost
money guarded by, 21--dogs can reckon time, 22--death of a dog
from joy at the return of his master, 22--faithfulness of a dog to
its charge, 24--the dog's character influenced by that of its
master, 25--sense of smelling, 26--duel about a dog, 28--murder
prevented by, 29--a faithful dog killed by mistake, 30--sporting
anecdotes of Smoaker, Bachelor, Blunder, &c., 31--intelligence of
the dog, 42--tact in cat-hunting, 44--find their way home from
long distances, 46--bantam rescued from a game cock,
46--perception of right and wrong, 47--turkey punished for
gluttony, 48--speaking dogs, 48-9--a singing dog, 50--creatures of
habit, 50--Caniche and the breeches, 51--distinguishes his
master's customers, 54--a robber killed by a dog, 55--Dr. Hooper's
dog, 55--the fireman's dog, Tyke, 56--the fireman's dog, Bill,
60--dog used as a servant, 61--Mr. Backhouse's dog, 62--the
post-dog's revenge, 62--dog returns from Bangalore to Pondicherry,
63--Mr. Decouick's dog, 63--a dog saves human life, 64--guards a
chair dropped from a waggon, 64--rescues his master from an
avalanche, 64--spaniel tracks his master to Drury Lane, and
discovers him in the pit, 65--large dog rescues a small one from
drowning, 65--a canine messenger, 66--contrivance of a
Newfoundland to get a bun, 67--dog lost for nine weeks in the dome
of St. Paul's, 67--support themselves in a wild state,
69--laughable account of the transmigration of souls in connexion
with dogs, 71--sheep-dogs in the Pyrenees, 76--Mrs. S. C. Hall's
dog, 77--musical spaniel of Darmstadt, 77--Lord Grenville's lines
on the dog, 82.

THE IRISH AND HIGHLAND WOLF-DOG.

History of the Irish wolf-dog, 86 _et seq. passim_--supposed
recognition of a wolf-dog of the Irish blood royal, 86--lines on
the Irish wolf-dog, 88--anecdotes from Plutarch, 89--the dog of
Montargis, 90--the dog of Aughrim, 93--wolf-hunting in Tyrone,
94--sheep-killing wolf-dog, 107--Buskar and Bran, 112--incident
with Lord Ossulton's hounds, 116--Bruno and O'Toole, 117--a
deer-hound recovers a glove from a boy, 119--Sir W. Scott's dog
Maida, 120--a deer-hound detains a suspicious person, 120--follows
a wounded deer for three days, 121--Comhstri drowns a stag,
122--Scotch dogs much prized in England, 123--Llewellyn and Beth
Gelert, 124--Lady Morgan on the Irish wolf-dog, 127.

THE NEWFOUNDLAND DOG.

Character, &c., 133--saves people from drowning, 135--Baby,
136--saves a child from being run over, 136--saves a spaniel from
being drowned, 137--saves a gentleman from drowning at Portsmouth,
138--saves a man in a mill-stream, 138--calculating dogs,
138--Sabbath party disturbed by a dog, 139--Archdeacon Wix's dog,
140--a Newfoundland brings away breeches containing money
belonging to his master, 143--commits suicide, 145--saves a
coachman in the Thames, 146--tries to drown a spaniel, 147--uses
his paw as a fishing-bait, 148--in carrying two hats puts one
inside other, 148--three dogs previously enemies unite against a
common foe, 149--a dog saves his drowning enemy, 151--releases
himself and companions from captivity, 152--a swimming-wager
amusingly lost by a dog's care, 153--the dog as postman,
153--swims for ten hours in a tempestuous sea, 153--saves his dead
master's pocket-book, 154--Lord Grenville's lines on the,
155--Newfoundland dog ducks his aggressor, 157--carries a rope to
the shore, 158--saves an ungrateful master, 158--guardian of a
lady's honour, 160--anecdotes of Mr. M'Intyre's dog Dandie,
160-5--a Newfoundland causes the detection of a dishonest porter,
165--saves twelve persons from drowning, 166--watches over his
drunken master, 167--his humanity occasions a disturbance at
Woolwich Theatre, 167--carries a lanthorn before his master,
168--saves the lives of all on board the Durham Packet,
170--drowns a pet lamb out of jealousy, 171--rescues a canary
which had flown into the sea, 171--saves his old master from
robbers, 173--St. John's and Labrador dogs, 176--long remembrance
of injuries, 177--discovers a poacher, 178--discretion and
revenge, 178--returns from Berwick to London, 179--the Romans had
some dog of the same kind, 179--liberates a man who had fallen
into a gravel-pit, 180--Boatswain provides his mistress a dinner,
181--a trespasser detained, 181--Victor at the Battle of
Copenhagen, 182--a Newfoundland dog retrieves on the ice,
182--fetches a coat from the tailor's, 183--lines by Lord Eldon,
184.

THE COLLEY OR SHEPHERD'S DOG.

Saves the life of Mr. Satterthwaite, 186--the Ettrick Shepherd's
dog, Sirrah, collects a scattered flock at midnight, 188--Hector,
189--points the cat, 191--has an ear for music, 194--hears where
his master is going, and precedes him, 196--a wonderful sheep-dog,
199--a bitch having pupped deposits her young in the hills, and
afterwards fetches them home, 201--cunning of sheep-stealing dogs,
202-5--a sheep-dog dies of starvation whilst tending his charge,
206--discrimination of a sheep-dog, 207--a sheep-dog remembers all
the turnings of a road, 208--follows a young woman who had
borrowed his mistress's cloak, 211--Drummer saves a cow,
212--Caesar rescues his master from an avalanche, 213--a sheep-dog
snatches away a beggar's stick, 214--a colley conducts the flock
whilst his master is drinking, 214--dishonesty punished, 215--a
sporting colley, 216--a colley buries her drowned offspring,
217--brings assistance to her helpless master, 217--saves his
master from being frozen to death, 219--his master having broken
his arm sends home his dog for assistance, 220--a colley punishes
a tailor's dog for worrying his flock, 221--the sheep-stealing
colley, 222--a colley distinguishes diseased sheep, 228--the
Ettrick Shepherd's story of the dog Chieftain, 230--a colley feeds
his master's lost child on the Grampian Hills, 232--the shepherds'
dogs of North Wales, 235--training a colley, 238.

THE ST. BERNARD DOG.

Mrs. Houston's lines on the, 240--peculiar intelligence of,
241--the monks and their dogs, 242--a dog saves a woman's life,
243--intuitive foreboding of danger, 244--a dog saves a child,
245--revenges his ill-treated master, 247--a St. Bernard dog named
Barry saves forty lives, 248--destruction of a whole party by an
avalanche, 249.

THE BLOODHOUND.

Habits of the bloodhound, 251--its remarkable scent, 252--pursuit
of Wallace with a bloodhound, 253--bloodhounds employed for
hunting negroes in Cuba, 253--a bloodhound traces a miscreant
twenty miles, 255--Sir W. Scott's description of a bloodhound,
255--extract from Wanley's "Wonders," 256--a bloodhound discovers
a lost child, 257--the Spanish chasseurs and their dogs, 258--a
sheepstealer discovered by a bloodhound, 260--atrocities of the
Spaniards, 261.

THE TERRIER.

Its varieties, 265--Peter, 266--a terrier kills a child from
jealousy, 268--pines to death from jealousy, 268--guards a lady in
her walks, 269--affection of a terrier, 269--Sir Walter Scott's
description of Wasp, 270--brings assistance to his imprisoned
master, 271--gets a friend to pay his boat-hire, 272--Mrs.
Grosvenor's dog, 273--a bell-ringing and message-carrying terrier,
273--a dog knows his mistress's dress, and follows the wearer,
274--anecdotes of a terrier at Hampton Court, 274--a terrier saves
his master from being burnt to death, 277--suckles a rat,
277--tries to prevent his master from beating his son, 278--Pincer
seeks assistance in dislodging rats, 278--a terrier rescues her
two drowned pups, 280--seeks assistance in getting a bone,
281--gets a lady to ring the bell for him, 282--flies at the
throat of a man who attacks his master, 282--a grateful terrier,
283--attachment to a cat, 283--clever expedient of two
affectionate dogs, 284--Snap, 285--the fate of a gentleman
revealed to his family by means of a terrier, 286--a terrier in
the Tower follows a soldier to find his master, 288--Snob, 289--a
terrier suckles fox-cubs, 290--brings assistance to his canine
friend, 291--returns from York to London, 292--finds a thief in
the cupboard, 292--friendship between a terrier and bantam,
293--traces his master to Gravesend, 294--Peter, 295--a terrier
suckles a kitten, 295--a terrier discovers where his master has
travelled by the scent, 296--nurses a brood of ducklings and
chickens, 296--brings his master's wife to the dead body of her
husband, 297--Keeper recognises his master's vessel after a long
interval, 298.

THE SPANIEL.

Sings, 300--affected by a particular air, 301--gathers a
water-lily, 303--retrieves a wild duck, 303--a grateful spaniel,
304--faithful to his guillotined master, 304--Dash, her
intelligence and fidelity, 305--gratitude for surgical assistance,
306--spaniels in cover, 308--the Clumber spaniels, 308--Lord
Albemarle's spaniels, 309--suckling, 309--friendship between a dog
and cat, 310--Rose travels from London to Worcester,
311--recognition of his master after a long absence,
312--friendship between a spaniel and partridge, 313--a spaniel
avoids being left behind, 315--an adept in shoplifting, 316--takes
up his abode at a grave in St. Bride's churchyard, 317--dies of
grief for his dam's death, 317--dogs of the poor the most
affectionate, 318--a spaniel takes up his abode in St. Olave's
churchyard, 319--causes a man to be executed for murder,
320--saves the life of Mrs. Alderman Yearsley, 321--a spaniel's
recognition of his old master by scent, 323--a King Charles
spaniel alarms his mistress and saves her from being robbed,
324--a spaniel knocks at the door, 326--opens the gate to release
other dogs, 326--imitates his master in eating turnips, 327--finds
his way from Boston to Chepstow, 328--prevents a cat from stealing
meat, 329--Mrs. Browning's lines on, 329.

THE POODLE.

The Shoeblack's poodle, 332--two learned poodles exhibited at
Milan, 332--a poodle reminds the servant that he wants a walk,
336--hides the whip, 336--performance in a London theatre,
337--finds his way from London to Inverary, 342--supports himself
during his master's absence, 342--friendship with a terrier,
342--discerns a rogue at first sight, and causes him to be
detected, 343--enjoys a glass of grog, 344--carries three puppies
a long distance, one at a time, 345--fetches his master's
slippers, &c., 346--imitates the agonies of death, 346--goes to
church by habit without the family, the road being overflowed,
347--watches over the dead body of his master, 347--protects his
master's body, 348--climbs up a house in Wells Street, Oxford
Street, 348--anecdote of Froll, 349.

THE ESQUIMAUX DOG.

Traditions, 353--Capt. Lyons' account of the, 354--Col. Hamilton
Smith's account of one, 359.

THE OTTER TERRIER.

Somerville's description of an otter-hunt, 361--otter-hounds
almost extinct, 362--otter-hunting, 363 to end of chapter.

THE GREYHOUND.

Match between a Scotch greyhound and Snowball, 368--Match between
a greyhound and a racehorse, 368--its courage and perseverance,
369--a coursed hare dies of exhaustion, 369--a hare and two dogs
die of exhaustion, 370--a wild greyhound, 370--greyhounds coupled
pursue a hare, 372--a greyhound brings assistance to his drowning
master, 372--finds his way from Cumnock to Castle Douglas,
373--canine friendship, 373--King Richard's greyhound,
375--attachment between St. Leger and his greyhound, 377--the
Persian greyhound, 379.

THE POINTER.

Its origin and present breed, 384--a pointer punished by her
grand-dam, 386--disgust at a bad shot, 387--pointing on the top of
a wall, 388--steady pointing, 389--a weather-wise pointer,
389--guards some dropped birds all night, 389--finds his way back
from America, 390--traces his master four hundred miles, 390--M.
Leonard's dogs, Brague and Philax, 391--a pointer acts as a
landing-net, 394--calls the attention of his master to a hare,
394--an extraordinary pointer, 395--a pointer suckles a hedgehog,
398.

THE SETTER.

Its origin and present breed, 400--smells birds a hundred yards
off, 401--acts as a retriever, 402--traces a wounded deer, and
brings her master to it next morning, 403--finds a lost whip,
404--gratitude of a dying setter, 405--friendship with a cat,
406--a setter angry with his master for missing birds, 406--falls
in love with a mongrel, 407--effect of imagination on pregnant
bitches, 408--Medor brings the keys to his shut-out mistress,
409--sagacity in hunting red-legged partridges, 410.

THE PUG DOG.

Its history and progress, 412--a pug saves the life of the Prince
of Orange, 413--a lady incurs a pug's displeasure for preventing
him from stealing, 414--a pug pronounces the word William,
415--ditto Elizabeth, 416--the Comforter, 416.

THE TURNSPIT.

Recollections of it, 418--an industrious dog punishes his lazy
fellow-labourer, 419--one dog forces another to take his turn at
the wheel, 420.

THE FOXHOUND.

Somerville's lines on, 421--friendship between a fox and a pack of
hounds, 424--dog always attacks the fox's head, 424--a hound finds
its way back from Lincolnshire to Frogmore, 425--dog found
swimming across the Channel, 425--dog finds its way back from
Ireland to Liverpool, 425--three hounds escape from their kennel
in Ireland and return to Leicestershire, 426--bitch after losing
her eye continues to follow the fox, 427--three hounds hunt a fox
alone for seven hours, 428--pack of hounds hunt a fox for eight
hours, 428--a hound follows a fox for thirty hours, 429--foxhound
follows with her new-born pup in mouth, 429--hounds follow a fox
for four days, 430--fox leaps a precipice of sixty yards and is
followed by the hounds, 433--foxhounds refuse to eat a bag-fox,
435.

BEAGLE.

Description of, 438--lines on, by Dryden and Pope, 439.

MASTIFF.

Description of, 440--detects and kills a housebreaker,
443--mastiff engages a bear, a leopard, and a lion, 444--prevents
his master from being murdered by his valet, 446--gentle towards
children, 448--killed by the wheel of a cart rather than desert
his charge, 449--attacks a horse which had trodden upon him,
450--drops a snarling cur into the water, 453.

BULL-DOG.

Description of, 454--saves a shipwrecked crew, 457.

DALMATIAN OR COACH-DOG.

Finds its way from France to England, 461--affection for a horse,
462.

GREAT DANISH DOG.

Discovers a murderer under the bed, 464--dies of starvation rather
than eat his master's game within reach, 465--rings a convent bell
for his dinner, 466.

CUR DOG.

Prevents a man from stealing a bridle, 468--carries his master's
dinner to him daily, 470--pursues a pony and conducts him to the
stable, 474.

LURCHER.

Hunting rabbits, 477--attacks a fox and is killed by the hounds,
479.

BAN DOG.

Gratitude for a favour conferred, 480.

A French writer has boldly affirmed, that with the exception of women there is nothing on earth so agreeable, or so necessary to the comfort of man, as the dog. This assertion may readily be disputed, but still it will be allowed that man, deprived of the companionship and services of the dog, would be a solitary and, in many respects, a helpless being. Let us look at the shepherd, as the evening closes in and his flock is dispersed over the almost inaccessible heights of mountains; they are speedily collected by his indefatigable dog--nor do his services end here: he guards either the flock or his master's cottage by night, and a slight caress, and the coarsest food, satisfy him for all his trouble. The dog performs the services of a horse in the more northern regions; while in Cuba and some other hot countries, he has been the scourge and terror of the runaway negroes. In the destruction of wild beasts, or the less dangerous stag, or in attacking the bull, the dog has proved himself to possess pre-eminent courage. In many instances he has died in the defence of his master. He has saved him from drowning, warned him of approaching danger, served him faithfully in poverty and distress, and if deprived of sight has gently led him about. When spoken to, he tries to hold conversation with him by the movement of his tail or the expression of his eyes. If his master wants amusement in the field or wood, he is delighted to have an opportunity of procuring it for him; if he finds himself in solitude, his dog will be a cheerful and agreeable companion, and maybe, when death comes, the last to forsake the grave of his beloved master.

There are a thousand little facts connected with dogs, which many, who do not love them as much as I do, may not have observed, but which all tend to develope their character. For instance, every one knows the fondness of dogs for warmth, and that they never appear more contented than when reposing on the rug before a good fire. If, however, I quit the room, my dog leaves his warm berth, and places himself at the door, where he can the better hear my footsteps, and be ready to greet me when I re-enter. If I am preparing to take a walk, my dog is instantly aware of my intention. He frisks and jumps about, and is all eagerness to accompany me. If I am thoughtful or melancholy, he appears to sympathise with me; and, on the contrary, when I am disposed to be merry, he shows by his manner that he rejoices with me. I have often watched the effect which a change in my countenance would produce. If I frown or look severe, but without saying a word or uttering a sound, the effect is instantly seen by the ears dropping, and the eyes showing unhappiness, together with a doubtful movement of the tail. If I afterwards smile and look pleased, the tail wags joyously, the eyes are filled with delight, and the ears even are expressive of happiness. Before a dog, however, arrives at this knowledge of the human countenance, he must be the companion of your walks, repose at your feet, and receive his food from your hands: treated in this manner, the attachment of the dog is unbounded; he becomes fond, intelligent, and grateful. Whenever Stanislas, the unfortunate King of Poland, wrote to his daughter, he always concluded his letter with these words--"Tristan, my companion in misfortune, licks your feet:" thus showing that he had still one friend who stuck to him in his adversity. Such is the animal whose propensities, instincts, and habits, I propose to illustrate by various anecdotes.

The propensities of the dog, and some of them are most extraordinary, appear to be independent of that instinct which Paley calls, "a propensity previous to experience, and independent of instruction." Some of these are hereditary, or derived from the habits of the parents, and are suited to the purposes to which each breed has long been and is still applied. In fact, their organs have a fitness or unfitness for certain functions without education;--for instance, a very young puppy of the St. Bernard breed of dogs, when taken on snow for the first time, will begin to scratch it with considerable eagerness. I have seen a young pointer of three or four weeks old stand steadily on first seeing poultry, and a well-bred terrier puppy will show a great deal of ferocity at the sight of a rat or mouse.

Sir John Sebright, perhaps the best authority that can be quoted on this subject, says that he had a puppy of the wild breed of Australia; that the mother was with young when caught, and the puppy was born in the ship that brought her over. This animal was so like a wolf, not only in its appearance, but in all its habits, that Sir John at first doubted if it really were a dog, but this was afterwards proved by experiment.

Of all the propensities of the brute creation, the well-known attachment of the dog to man is the most remarkable, arising probably from his having been for so many years his constant companion, and the object of his care. That this propensity is not instinctive is proved, by its not having existed, even in the slightest degree, in the Australian dog.

Sir John Sebright kept this animal for about a year, almost always in his room. He fed him himself, and took every means that he could think of to reclaim him, but with no effect. He was insensible to caresses, and never appeared to distinguish Sir John from any other person. The dog would never follow him, even from one room to another; nor would he come when called, unless tempted by the offer of food. Wolves and foxes have shown much more sociability than he did. He appeared to be in good spirits, but always kept aloof from the other dogs. He was what would be called tame for an animal in a menagerie; that is, he was not shy, but would allow strangers to handle him, and never attempted to bite. If he were led near sheep or poultry, he became quite furious from his desire to attack them.

Here, then, we see that the propensities that are the most marked, and the most constant in every breed of domestic dogs, are not to be found in animals of the same species in their natural state, or even in their young, although subjected to the same treatment from the moment of their birth.

Notwithstanding the above-mentioned fact, we may, I think, consider the domestic dog as an animal _per se_; that is, that it neither owes its origin to the fox nor wolf, but is sprung from the wild dog. In giving this opinion, I am aware that some naturalists have endeavoured to trace the origin of the dog from the fox; while others, and some of the most eminent ones, are of opinion that it sprung from the wolf. I shall be able to show that the former is out of the question. The wolf, perhaps, has some claim to be considered as the parent animal, and that he is susceptible of as strong attachment as the dog is proved by the following anecdote, related by Cuvier.

He informs us, that a young wolf was brought up as a dog, became familiar with every person whom he was in the habit of seeing, and in particular, followed his master everywhere, evincing evident chagrin at his absence, obeying his voice, and showing a degree of submission scarcely differing in any respect from that of the domesticated dog. His master, being obliged to be absent for a time, presented his pet to the Menagerie du Roi, where the animal, confined in a den, continued disconsolate, and would scarcely eat his food. At length, however, his health returned, he became attached to his keepers, and appeared to have forgotten all his former affection; when, after an absence of eighteen months, his master returned. At the first word he uttered, the wolf, who had not perceived him amongst the crowd, recognised him, and exhibited the most lively joy. On being set at liberty, the most affectionate caresses were lavished on his old master, such as the most attached dog would have shown after an absence of a few days.

A second separation was followed by similar demonstrations of sorrow, which, however, again yielded to time. Three years passed, and the wolf was living happily in company with a dog, which had been placed with him, when his master again returned, and again the long-lost but still-remembered voice was instantly replied to by the most impatient cries, which were redoubled as soon as the poor animal was set at liberty; when, rushing to his master, he threw his fore-feet on his shoulders, licking his face with the most lively joy, and menacing his keepers, who offered to remove him, and towards whom, not a moment before, he had been showing every mark of fondness.

A third separation, however, seemed to be too much for this faithful animal's temper. He became gloomy, desponding, refused his food, and for a long time his life appeared in great danger. His health at last returned, but he no longer suffered the caresses of any but his keepers, and towards strangers manifested the original savageness of his species.

Mr. Bell, in his "History of Quadrupeds," mentions a curious fact, which, I think, still more strongly proves the alliance of the dog with the wolf, and is indeed exactly similar to what is frequently done by dogs when in a state of domestication. He informs us, that he "remembers a bitch-wolf at the Zoological Gardens, which would always come to the front bars of her den to be caressed as soon as he, or any other person whom she knew, approached. When she had pups, she used to bring them in her mouth to be noticed; and so eager, in fact, was she that her little ones should share with her in the notice of her friends, that she killed all of them in succession by rubbing them against the bars of her den, as she brought them forwards to be fondled."

Other instances might be mentioned of the strong attachment felt by wolves to those who have treated them kindly, but I will now introduce some remarks on the anatomical affinities between the dog, the fox, and the wolf, which serve to prove that the dog is of a breed distinct from either of the last-mentioned animals.

It must, in fact, be always an interesting matter of inquiry respecting the descent of an animal so faithful to man, and so exclusively his associate and his friend, as the dog. Accordingly, this question has been entertained ever since Natural History took the rank of a science. But the origin of the dog is lost in antiquity. We find him occupying a place in the earliest pagan worship; his name has been given to one of the first-mentioned stars of the heavens, and his effigy may be seen in some of the most ancient works of art. Pliny was of opinion that there was no domestic animal without its unsubdued counterpart, and dogs are known to exist absolutely wild in various parts of the old and new world. The Dingo of New Holland, a magnificent animal of this kind, has been shown to be susceptible of mutual attachment in a singular degree, though none of the experiments yet made have proved that he is capable, like the domestic dog, of a similar attachment to man. The parentage of the wild dogs has been assigned to the tame species, strayed from the dominion of their masters. This, however, still remains a question, and there is reason to believe that the wild dog is just as much a native of the wilderness as the lion or tiger. If there be these doubts about an animal left for centuries in a state of nature, how can we expect to unravel the difficulties accumulated by ages of domestication? Who knows for a certainty the true prototype of the goat, the sheep, or the ox? To the unscientific reader such questions might appear idle, as having been settled from time immemorial; yet they have never been finally disposed of. The difficulty, as with the dog, may be connected with modifications of form and colour, resulting from the long-continued interference of man with the breed and habits of animals subjected to his sway.

Buffon was very eloquent in behalf of the claim of the sheep-dog to be considered as the true ancestor of all the other varieties. Mr. Hunter would award this distinction to the wolf; supposing also that the jackal is the same animal a step further advanced towards civilization, or perhaps the dog returned to its wild state. As the affinity between wolf, jackal, fox, and dog, cannot fail to attract the notice of the most superficial observer; so he may ask if they do not all really belong to one species, modified by varieties of climate, food, and education? If answered in the negative, he would want to know what constitutes a species, little thinking that this question, apparently so simple, involves one of the nicest problems in natural history. Difference of form will scarcely avail us here, for the pug, greyhound, and spaniel, are wider apart in this respect, than many dogs and the wild animals just named. It has often been said that these varieties in the dog have arisen from artificial habits and breeding through a long succession of years. This seems very like mere conjecture. Can the greyhound be trained to the pointer's scent or the spaniel to the bulldog's ferocity? But admitting the causes assigned to be adequate to the effects, then the forms would be temporary, and those of a permanent kind only would serve our purpose. Of this nature is the shape of the pupil of the eye, which may be noticed somewhat particularly, not merely to make it plain to those who have never thought on the subject, but with the hope of leading them to reflections on this wondrous inlet to half our knowledge, the more especially as the part in question may be examined by any one in his own person by the help of a looking-glass. In the front of the eye then, just behind the transparent surface, there is a sort of curtain called the _iris_, about the middle of which is a round hole. This is the pupil, and you will observe that it contracts in a strong light, and dilates in a weaker one, the object of which is to regulate the quantity of light admitted into the eye. Now the figure of the pupil is not the same in all animals. In the horse it is oval; in the wolf, jackal, and dog, it is round, like our own, however contracted; but in the fox, as in the cat, the pupil contracts vertically into an elongated figure, like the section of a lens, and even to a sort of slit, if the light be very strong.

This is a permanent character, not affected, as far as is at present known, by any artificial or natural circumstances to which the dog has been subjected. Naturalists, therefore, have seized upon this character as the ground for a division of animals of the dog kind, the great genus _Canis_ of Linnaeus, into two groups, the diurnal and nocturnal; not to imply that these habits necessarily belong to all the individuals composing either of these divisions, for that would be untrue, but simply that the figure of the pupils corresponds with that frequently distinguishing day-roaming animals from those that prowl only by night. It is remarkable that a more certain and serviceable specific distinction is thus afforded by a little anatomical point, than by any of the more obvious circumstances of form, size, or colour. Whether future researches into the minute structure of animals may not discover other means to assist the naturalist in distinguishing nearly allied species, is a most important subject for inquiry, which cannot be entertained here. But to encourage those who may be disposed to undertake it, I must mention the curious fact, that the group to which the camel belongs is not more certainly indicated by his grotesque and singular figure than by the form of the red particles which circulate in his blood. And here again the inherent interest of the matter will lead me to enter a little into particulars, which may engage any one who has a good microscope in a most instructive course of observations, not the least recommendation of which is, that a just and pleasing source of recreation may be thus pursued by evening parties in the drawing-room, since the slightest prick of the finger will furnish blood enough for a microscopic entertainment, and you may readily procure a little more for comparison from any animal.

Now the redness of the blood is owing to myriads of minute objects in which the colour of the vital fluid resides. They were formerly called globules, but as they are now known to be flattened and disc-like, they are more properly termed particles or corpuscles. Their form is wonderfully regular, and so is their size within certain limits; in birds, reptiles, or fishes, the corpuscles are oval. They are circular in man, and all other mammalia, except in the camel tribe, in which the corpuscles are oval, though much smaller than in the lower animals. Thus, in the minutest drop of blood, any one of the camel family can be surely distinguished from all other animals, even from its allies among the ruminants; and what is more to our purpose, in pursuing this inquiry, Mr. Gulliver has found that the blood-corpuscles of the dog and wolf agree exactly, while those of all the true foxes are slightly though distinctly smaller.

These curious facts are all fully detailed in Mr. Gulliver's Appendix to the English version of Gerber's Anatomy, but I think that they are now for the first time enlisted into the service of Natural History.

Thus we dismiss the fox as an alien to the dog, or, at all events, as a distinct species. Then comes the claim of the wolf as the true original of the dog. Before considering this, let us revert to the question of what constitutes a species. Mr. Hunter was of opinion that it is the power of breeding together and of continuing the breed with each other; that this is partially the case between the dog and the wolf is certain, for Lord Clanbrassil and Lord Pembroke proved the fact beyond a doubt, above half-a-century ago; and the following epitaph in the garden at Wilton House is a curious record of the particulars:--

Here lies Lupa,
Whose Grandmother was a Wolf,
Whose Father and Grandfather were Dogs, and whose
Mother was half Wolf and half Dog.
She died on the 16th of October, 1782,
Aged 12 years.

Conclusive as this fact may appear, as proving the descent of the dog from the wolf, it is not convincing, the dog having characters which do not belong to the wolf.

The dog, for instance, guards property with strictest vigilance, which has been entrusted to his charge; all his energies seem roused at night, as though aware that that is the time when depredations are committed. His courage is unbounded, a property not possessed by the wolf: he appears never to forget a kindness, but soon loses the recollection of an injury, if received from the hand of one he loves, but resents it if offered by a stranger. His docility and mental pliability exceed those of any other animal; his habits are social, and his fidelity not to be shaken; hunger cannot weaken, nor old age impair it. His discrimination is equal, in many respects, to human intelligence. If he commits a fault, he is sensible of it, and shows pleasure when commended. These, and many other qualities, which might have been enumerated, are distinct from those possessed by the wolf. It may be said that domestication might produce them in the latter. This may be doubted, and is not likely to be proved; the fact is, the dog would appear to be a precious gift to man from a benevolent Creator, to become his friend, companion, protector, and the indefatigable agent of his wishes. While all other animals had the fear and dread of man implanted in them, the poor dog alone looked at his master with affection, and the tie once formed was never broken to the present hour.

It should also be mentioned, in continuation of my argument, that the experiment of the wolf breeding with the dog is of no value, because it has never been carried sufficiently far to prove that the progeny would continue fertile _inter se_. The wolf has oblique eyes--the eyes of dogs have never retrograded to that position. If the dog descended from the wolf, a constant tendency would have been observed in the former to revert to the original type or species. This is a law in all other cross-breeds--but amongst all the varieties of dogs, this tendency has not existed. I may also add, that as far as I have been able to ascertain the fact, the number of teats of the female wolf have never been known to vary. With respect to the dog, it is known that they do vary, some having more, and others a less number.

Having thus brought forward such arguments as have occurred to me to prove that the dog is a breed _sui generis_, I will give a few anecdotes to show how different this animal is in his specific character to the wolf, and that he has a natural tendency to acknowledge man as his friend and protector, an instinct never shown by the wolf.

In Ceylon there are a great number of what are called wild dogs, that is, dogs who have no master, and who haunt villages and jungles, picking up what food they are able to find. If you meet one of these neglected animals, and only look at him with an expression of kindness, from that moment he attaches himself to you, owns you for his master, and will remain faithful to you for the remainder of his life.

"Man," says Burns, "is the God of the dog; he knows no other; and see how he worships him! With what reverence he crouches at his feet, with what reverence he looks up to him, with what delight he fawns upon him, and with what cheerful alacrity he obeys him!"

Such is the animal which the brutality of man subjects to so much ill-treatment; its character depends very much on that of his master, kindness and confidence produce the same qualities in the dog, while ill-usage makes him sullen and distrustful of beings far more brutal than himself.

I have had many opportunities of observing how readily dogs comprehend language, and how they are aware when they are the subject of conversation. A gentleman once said in the hearing of an old and favourite dog, who was at the time basking in the sun,--"I must have Ponto killed, for he gets old and is offensive." The dog slunk away, and never came near his master afterwards. Many similar anecdotes might be brought forward, but I will mention one which Captain Brown tells us he received himself from Sir Walter Scott.

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

Mr. Smellie, in his "Philosophy of Natural History," mentions a curious instance of the intellectual faculty of a dog. He states that "a grocer in Edinburgh had one which for some time amused and astonished the people in the neighbourhood. A man who went through the streets ringing a bell and selling pies, happened one day to treat this dog with a pie. The next time he heard the pieman's bell he ran impetuously toward him, seized him by the coat, and would not suffer him to pass. The pieman, who understood what the animal wanted, showed him a penny, and pointed to his master, who stood at the street-door, and saw what was going on. The dog immediately supplicated his master by many humble gestures and looks, and on receiving a penny he instantly carried it in his mouth to the pieman, and received his pie. This traffic between the pieman and the grocer's dog continued to be daily practised for several months."

The affection which some dogs show to their masters and mistresses is not only very often surprising, but even affecting. An instance of this lately occurred at Brighton. The wife of a member of the town council at that place had been an invalid for some time, and at last was confined to her bed. During this period she was constantly attended by a faithful and affectionate dog, who either slept in her room or outside her door. She died, was buried, and the dog followed the remains of his beloved mistress to her grave. After the funeral the husband and his friends returned to the house, and while they were partaking of some refreshment the dog put its paws on his master's arm, as if to attract his attention, looked wistfully in his face, and then laid down and instantly expired.

In giving miscellaneous anecdotes in order to show the general character of the dog, I may mention the following very curious one.

During a very severe frost and fall of snow in Scotland, the fowls did not make their appearance at the hour when they usually retired to roost, and no one knew what had become of them; the house-dog at last entered the kitchen, having in his mouth a hen, apparently dead. Forcing his way to the fire, the sagacious animal laid his charge down upon the warm hearth, and immediately set off. He soon came again with another, which he deposited in the same place, and so continued till the whole of the poor birds were rescued. Wandering about the stack-yard, the fowls had become quite benumbed by the extreme cold, and had crowded together, when the dog observing them, effected their deliverance, for they all revived by the warmth of the fire.

That dogs possess a faculty nearly allied to reason cannot, I think, be doubted. Mr. Davy, in his "Angler in the Lake District," (a charming work), gives one or two anecdotes in proof of this.

When Mr. Davy was at Ceylon, the Governor of that Island, the late Sir Robert Brownrigg, had a dog of more than ordinary sagacity. He always accompanied his master, being allowed to do so, except on particular occasions, such as going to church or council, or to inspect his troops, when the Governor usually wore his sword; but when the dog saw the sword girded on, he would only follow to the outer door. Without a word being said, he would return and wait the coming back of his master, patiently remaining up-stairs at the door of his private apartment. So it is with respect to my own pet terrier, Phiz. When he sees me putting on my walking-shoes, my great-coat, or hat, he is all eagerness to accompany me, jumping about me and showing his joy. But on Sundays it is very different. My shoes, great-coat or hat, may be put on, but he remains perfectly resigned on the rug before the fire, and never attempts or shows any inclination to follow me. Is the dog guided in acting thus by instinct or reason?

Let me give another instance from Mr. Davy's work.

Once when he was fishing in the highlands of Scotland, he saw a party of sportsmen, with their dogs, cross the stream, the men wading, the dogs swimming, with the exception of one, who stopped on the bank piteously howling. After a few minutes he suddenly ceased, and started off full speed for a higher part of the stream. Mr. Davy was able to keep him in view, and he did not stop till he came to a spot where a plank connected the banks, on which he crossed dry-footed, and soon joined his companions.

Dogs have sometimes strange fancies with respect to moving from one place to another. A Fellow of a College at Cambridge had a dog, which sometimes took it into his head to visit his master's usual places of resort in London. He would then return to his home in Suffolk, and then go to Cambridge, remaining at each place as long as he felt disposed to do so, and going and returning with the most perfect indifference and complacency.

The extraordinary sense of a dog was shown in the following instance. A gentleman, residing near Pontypool, had his horse brought to his house by a servant. While the man went to the door, the horse ran away and made his escape to a neighbouring mountain. A dog belonging to the house saw this, and of his own accord followed the horse, got hold of the bridle and brought him back to the door.

I have been informed of two instances of dogs having slipped their collars and put their heads into them again of their own accord, after having committed depredations in the night, and I have elsewhere mentioned the fact of a dog, now in my possession, who undid the collar of another dog chained to a kennel near him. These are curious instances of sense and sagacity.

Mr. Bell, in his "History of British Quadrupeds," gives us the following fact of a dog belonging to a friend of his. This gentleman dropped a louis d'or one morning, when he was on the point of leaving his house. On returning late at night, he was told by his servant that the dog had fallen sick, and refused to eat, and, what appeared very strange, she would not suffer him to take her food away from before her, but had been lying with her nose close to the vessel, without attempting to touch it. On Mr. Bell's friend entering the room, the dog instantly jumped upon him, laid the money at his feet, and began to devour her victuals with great voracity.

It is a curious fact that dogs can count time. I had, when a boy, a favourite terrier, which always went with me to church. My mother, thinking that he attracted too much of my attention, ordered the servant to fasten him up every Sunday morning. He did so once or twice, but never afterwards. Trim concealed himself every Sunday morning, and either met me as I entered the church, or I found him under my seat in the pew. Mr. Southey, in his "Omniana," informs us that he knew of a dog, which was brought up by a Catholic and afterwards sold to a Protestant, but still he refused to eat anything on a Friday.

Dogs have been known to die from excess of joy at seeing their masters after a long absence. An English officer had a large dog, which he left with his family in England, while he accompanied an expedition to America during the war of the Colonies. Throughout his absence, the animal appeared very much dejected. When the officer returned home, the dog, who happened to be lying at the door of an apartment into which his master was about to enter, immediately recognised him, leapt upon his neck, licked his face, and in a few minutes fell dead at his feet. A favourite spaniel of a lady recently died on seeing his beloved mistress after a long absence.

A gentleman who had a dog of a most endearing disposition, was obliged to go a journey periodically once a-month. His stay was short, and his departure and return very regular, and without variation. The dog always grew uneasy when he first lost his master, and moped in a corner, but recovered himself gradually as the time for his return approached; which he knew to an hour, nay, to a minute. When he was convinced that his master was on the road, at no great distance from home, he flew all over the house; and if the street door happened to be shut, he would suffer no servant to have any rest until it was opened. The moment he obtained his freedom away he went, and to a certainty met his benefactor about two miles from town. He played and frolicked about him till he had obtained one of his gloves, with which he ran or rather flew home, entered the house, laid it down in the middle of the room, and danced round it. When he had sufficiently amused himself in this manner, out of the house he flew, returned to meet his master, and ran before him, or gambolled by his side, till he arrived with him at home. "I know not (says Mr. Dibdin, who relates this anecdote), how frequently this was repeated; but it lasted till the old gentleman grew infirm, and incapable of continuing his journeys. The dog by this time was also grown old, and became at length blind; but this misfortune did not hinder him from fondling his master, whom he knew from every other person, and for whom his affection and solicitude rather increased than diminished. The old gentleman, after a short illness, died. The dog knew the circumstance, watched the corpse, blind as he was, and did his utmost to prevent the undertaker from screwing up the body in the coffin, and most outrageously opposed its being taken out of the house. Being past hope, he grew disconsolate, lost his flesh, and was evidently verging towards his end. One day he heard a gentleman come into the house, and he ran to meet him. His master being old and infirm, wore ribbed stockings for warmth. The gentleman had stockings on of the same kind. The dog perceived it, and thought it was his master, and began to exhibit the most extravagant signs of pleasure; but upon further examination finding his mistake, he retired into a corner, where in a short time he expired."