Chapter V: Part 5

"It is probable they were the first to disturb its tranquillity by
the introduction of wolves, a fragment of the menagerie of the
Ark; for all noxious and destructive animals and reptiles were
brought into Ireland by her invaders. The soil and clime of the
'woody Morven,' however, though not genial to their
naturalisation, was long a prey to one of the most ferocious
animals imported by foreign aggression to increase and multiply.
Ireland swarmed with wolves, and its colonists and aborigines
would in time have alike shared the fate of 'little Red Riding
Hood;' when, lo! up started the noble _Canis familiaris
Hibernicus_, which, greatly improved by a cross with the wolf
itself, was found everywhere in fierce antagonism with foreign
ferocity; and for his eminent services was not only speedily
adopted by patriot kings and heroes, as part of their courtly and
warlike parade, but sung by bards and immortalised by poets, as
worthy of such illustrious companionship. It is thus Bran, the
famous and beloved hound of Fingal, has become as immortal as his
master; and a track is still shown on a mountain in Tyrone, near
New Town Stuart, called 'The Track of the Foot of Bran, the Hound
of Fionne Mac Cumhall.' So much for poetry and tradition. Modern
naturalists, however, in their animal biography and prosaic view
of things, have assigned the introduction of the wolf-dog in
Ireland to the Danes, who brought it over in their first invasion;
and its resemblance to '_Le gros Danois_' of Buffon favours the
supposition. 'When Ireland swarmed with wolves,' says Pennant,
'these dogs were confined to the chase; but as soon as these
animals were extirpated, the number of the dogs decreased, and
from that period were kept chiefly for state.' Goldsmith mentions
having only seen in his time in Ireland one Irish wolf-hound that
was four feet high. And though the father of the late Marquis of
Sligo endeavoured to preserve the breed, his kennels in latter
years exhibited but a scanty specimen. These majestic and
beautiful animals are now, I believe, quite extinct in Ireland,
where their scarcity is accounted for by Mr. Pennant as 'the
consequence of the late King of Poland having procured from thence
by his agents as many as could be purchased.' The last notice
taken of the Irish wolf-dog in fictitious narrative may, I
believe, be found in one of my own national novels, 'O'Donnel,'
where the hero and his hound are first introduced to the reader
together. I borrowed the picture, as I gave it, from living
originals, which in my earliest youth struck forcibly on my
imagination, in the person of the celebrated Archibald Hamilton
Rowan, accompanied by his Irish hound Bran!

"This is all I know or can recollect of my noble and beautiful
compatriot; but I remember that when some writer in 'Fraser's
Magazine' styled me 'that Irish she wolf-dog,' I felt complimented
by the epithet, since to attack the enemies of Ireland, and to
worry when they could not destroy them, was the peculiar
attribute of the species.

"I have the honour to be, dear Sir,

"Most truly yours,

"SYDNEY MORGAN."

"_William Street, Albert Gate._"

THE NEWFOUNDLAND DOG.

"Nor will it less delight th' attentive sage,
T' observe that instinct which unerring guides
The brutal race, which mimics reason's lore,
And oft transcends.

* * * *

The dog, whom nothing can mislead,
Must be a dog of parts indeed.
Is often wiser than his master."
SOMMERVILLE.

This noble dog may be justly styled the friend and guardian of his master. I had some doubts in making out my list of dogs, whether he ought not to take precedence of all others; but, after duly weighing the matter in my own mind, I have given the palm to the Irish wolf-hound, and the honest Newfoundland immediately follows him. I not only think that this precedence will gratify some of my friends in Ireland, who have called upon me to do justice to one of their favourite and national emblems, but it is, perhaps, due in strict justice to an animal who proved himself so great a benefactor to his native country. There is, moreover, such a degree of romance attached to the recollection of his fine qualities and imposing appearance, that I should be sorry to lessen them by appearing to give the preference to any other dog. At the same time I may be allowed to add, that I have seen such courage, perseverance, and fidelity in the Newfoundland dog, and am acquainted with so many well-authenticated facts of his more than ordinary sense and utility, that I think him entitled to be considered as little inferior to the Irish wolf-dog.

When we reflect on the docility of the Newfoundland dog, his affectionate disposition, his aptitude in receiving instruction, and his instantaneous sense of impending danger, we shall no longer wonder at his being called the friend of his master, whom he is at all times ready to defend at the risk of his own life. How noble is his appearance, and at the same time how serene is his countenance!

"Sa fierte, sa beaute, sa jeunesse agreable
Le fit cherir de vous, et il est redoutable
A vos fiers ennemis par sa courage."

No animal, perhaps, can show more real courage than this dog. His perseverance in what he undertakes is so great, that he never relinquishes an attempt which has been enjoined him as long as there is a chance of success. I allude more particularly to storms at sea and consequent shipwreck, when his services, his courage, and indefatigable exertions, have been truly wonderful. Numerous persons have been saved from a watery grave by these dogs, and ropes have been conveyed by them from a sinking ship to the shore amidst foaming billows, by which means whole crews have been saved from destruction. Their feet are particularly well adapted to enable them to swim, being webbed very much like those of a duck, and they are at all times ready to plunge into the water to save a human being from drowning. Some dogs delight in following a fox, others in hunting the hare, or killing vermin. The delight of the Newfoundland dog appears to be in the preservation of the lives of the human race. A story is related on good authority of one of these dogs being in the habit, when he saw persons swimming in the Seine at Paris, of seizing them and bringing them to the shore. In the immediate neighbourhood of Windsor a servant was saved from drowning by a Newfoundland dog, who seized him by the collar of his coat when he was almost exhausted, and brought him to the banks, where some of the family were assembled watching with great anxiety the exertions of the noble animal.

Those who were much at Windsor, not many years since, must have seen a fine Newfoundland dog, called Baby, reposing occasionally in front of the White Hart Hotel. Baby was a general favourite, and he deserved to be so; for he was mild in his disposition, brave as a lion, and very sensible. When he was thirsty, and could not procure water at the pump in the yard, he has frequently been seen to go to the stable, fetch an empty bucket, and stand with it in his mouth at the pump till some one came for water. He then, by wagging his tail and expressive looks, made his want known, and had his bucket filled. Exposed as Baby was to the attacks of all sorts of curs, as he slumbered in the sun in front of the hotel, he seemed to think that a pat with his powerful paw was quite sufficient punishment for them, but he never tamely submitted to insult from a dog approaching his own size, and his courage was only equalled by his gentleness.

The following anecdote, which is well authenticated, shows the sagacity as well as the kindliness of disposition of these dogs. In the city of Worcester, one of the principal streets leads by a gentle declivity to the river Severn. One day a child, in crossing the street, fell down in the middle of it, and a horse and cart, which were descending the hill, would have passed over it, had not a Newfoundland dog rushed to the rescue of the child, caught it up in his mouth, and conveyed it in safety to the foot pavement.

My kind friend, Mr. T----, took a Newfoundland dog and a small spaniel into a boat with him on the river Thames, and when he got into the middle of the river, he turned them into the water. They swam different ways, but the spaniel got into the current, and after struggling some time was in danger of being drowned. As soon as the Newfoundland dog perceived the predicament of his companion, he swam to his assistance, and brought him safe to the shore.

A vessel went down in a gale of wind near Liverpool, and every one on board perishes. A Newfoundland dog was seen swimming about the place where the vessel was lost for some time, and at last came on shore very much exhausted. For three days he swam off to the same spot, and was evidently trying to find his lost master, so strong was his affection.

* * * * *

I have always been pleased with that charming remark of Sir Edwin Landseer, that the Newfoundland dog was a "distinguished Member of the Humane Society." How delightfully has that distinguished artist portrayed the character of dogs in his pictures! and what justice has he done to their noble qualities! We see in them honesty, fidelity, courage, and sense--no exaggeration--no flattery. He makes us feel that his dogs will love us without selfishness, and defend us at the risk of their own lives--that though friends may forsake us, they never will--and that in misfortune, poverty, and death, their affection will be unchanged, and their gratitude unceasing. But to return to the Newfoundland dog, and we shall again find him acting his part as a Member of the Humane Society.

A gentleman bathing in the sea at Portsmouth, was in the greatest danger of being drowned. Assistance was loudly called for, but no boat was ready, and though many persons were looking on, no one could be found to go to his help. In this predicament, a Newfoundland dog rushed into the sea and conveyed the gentleman in safety to land. He afterwards purchased the dog for a large sum, treated him as long as he lived with gratitude and kindness, and had the following words worked on his table-cloths and napkins--"_Virum extuli mari_."

A person, in crossing a plank at a mill, fell into the stream at night, and was saved by his Newfoundland dog, and who afterwards recovered his hat, which had fallen from his head, and was floating down the stream.

There can be no doubt but that dogs calculate, and almost reason. A dog who had been in the habit of stealing from a kitchen, which had two doors opening into it, would never do so if one of them was shut, as he was afraid of being caught. If both the doors were open, his chance of escape was greater, and he therefore seized what he could. This sort of calculation, if I may call it is so, was shown by a Newfoundland bitch. She had suckled two whelps until they were able to take care of themselves. They were, however, constantly following and disturbing her in order to be suckled, when she had little or no milk to give them. She was confined in a shed, which was separated from another by a wooden partition some feet high. Into this shed she conveyed her puppies, and left them there while she returned to the other to enjoy a night's rest unmolested. This shows that the animal was capable of reflecting to a degree beyond what would have been the result of mere instinct.

The late Rev. James Simpson, of the Potterrow congregation, Edinburgh, had a large dog of the Newfoundland breed. At that time he lived at Libberton, a distance of two miles from Edinburgh, in a house to which was attached a garden. One Sacrament Sunday the servant, who was left at home in charge of the house, thought it a good opportunity to entertain her friends, as her master and mistress were not likely to return home till after the evening's service, about nine o'clock. During the day the dog accompanied them through the garden, and indeed wherever they went, in the most attentive manner, and seemed well pleased. In the evening, when the time arrived that the party meant to separate, they proceeded to do so; but the dog, the instant they went to the door, interposed, and placing himself before it, would not allow one of them to touch the handle. On their persisting and attempting to use force he became furious, and in a menacing manner drove them back into the kitchen, where he kept them until the arrival of Mr. and Mrs. Simpson, who were surprised to find the party at so late an hour, and more so to see the dog standing sentinel over them. Being thus detected, the servant acknowledged the whole circumstance, when her friends were allowed to depart, after being admonished by the worthy divine in regard to the proper use of the Sabbath. They could not but consider the dog as an instrument in the hand of Providence to point out the impropriety of spending this holy day in feasting rather than in the duties of religion.

After the above circumstance, it became necessary for Mr. Simpson, on account of his children's education, to leave his country residence, when he took a house in Edinburgh in a common stair. Speaking of this, one day, to a friend who had visited him, he concluded that he would be obliged to part with his dog, as he was too large an animal to be kept in such a house. The animal was present, and heard him say so, and must have understood what he meant, as he disappeared that evening, and was never afterwards heard of. These circumstances have been related to me by an elder of Mr. Simpson's congregation, who had them from himself.

* * * * *

I am indebted to the late amiable Lord Stowell for the following anecdote, which has since been verified by Mr. Henry Wix, brother of the archdeacon:--

A Newfoundland dog belonging to Archdeacon Wix, which had never quitted the island, was brought over to London by him in January 1834, and when he and his family landed at Blackwall the dog was left on board the vessel. A few days afterwards the Archdeacon went from the Borough side of the Thames in a boat to the vessel, which was then in St. Katherine's Docks, to see about his luggage, but did not intend at that time to take the dog from the ship; however, on his leaving the vessel the dog succeeded in extricating himself from his confinement, jumped overboard, and swam after the boat across the Thames, followed his master into a counting-house on Gun-shot Wharf, Tooley Street, and then over London Bridge and through the City to St. Bartholomew's Hospital. The dog was shut within the square whilst the Archdeacon went into his father's house, and he then followed him on his way to Russell Square, but strayed somewhere in Holborn; and as several gentlemen had stopped to admire him in the street, saying he was worth a great deal of money, the Archdeacon concluded that some dog-stealer had enticed him away. He however wrote to the captain of the vessel to mention his loss, and made inquiries on the following morning at St. Bartholomew's Hospital, when he learnt that the dog had come to the gates late in the evening, and howled most piteously for admission, but was driven away. Two days afterwards the captain of the vessel waited on the Archdeacon with the dog, who had not only found his way back to the water's edge, on the Borough side, but, what is more surprising, swam across the Thames, where no scent could have directed him, and found out the vessel in St. Katherine's Docks.

This sagacious and affectionate creature had, previous to his leaving Newfoundland, saved his master's life by directing his way home when lost in a snow-storm many miles from any shelter.

The dog was presented to the Archdeacon's uncle, Thomas Poynder, Esq., Clapham Common, in whose possession it continued until its death.

* * * * *

Every particular has been faithfully given of this extraordinary occurrence. Here we see a dog brought for the first time from Newfoundland, and who can scarcely be said to have put his feet on ground in England, not only finding his way through a crowded city to the banks of the river, but also finding the ship he wanted in that river, and in which he evidently thought he should discover his lost master. It is an instance of sense of so peculiar a kind that it is difficult to define it, or the faculty which enables animals to find their way to a place over ground which they had not previously traversed.

* * * * *

A gentleman of Suffolk, on an excursion with his friend, was attended by a Newfoundland dog, which soon became the subject of conversation. The master, after a warm eulogium upon the perfections of his canine favourite, assured his companion that he would, upon receiving the order, return and fetch any article he should leave behind, from any distance. To confirm this assertion, a marked shilling was put under a large square stone by the side of the road, being first shown to the dog. The gentlemen then rode for three miles, when the dog received his signal from the master to return for the shilling he had seen put under the stone. The dog turned back; the gentlemen rode on, and reached home; but to their surprise and disappointment the hitherto faithful messenger did not return during the day. It afterwards appeared that he had gone to the place where the shilling was deposited, but the stone being too large for his strength to remove, he had stayed howling at the place till two horsemen riding by, and attracted by his seeming distress, stopped to look at him, when one of them alighting, removed the stone, and seeing the shilling, put it into his pocket, not at the time conceiving it to be the object of the dog's search. The dog followed their horses for twenty miles, remained undisturbed in the room where they supped, followed the chambermaid into the bedchamber, and secreted himself under one of the beds. The possessor of the shilling hung his trousers upon a nail by the bed-side; but when the travellers were both asleep, the dog took them in his mouth, and leaping out of the window, which was left open on account of the sultry heat, reached the house of his master at four o'clock in the morning with the prize he had made free with, in the pocket of which were found a watch and money, that were returned upon being advertised, when the whole mystery was mutually unravelled, to the admiration of all the parties.[I]

Many years ago, I saw a horse belonging to a quartermaster in the 1st Dragoon Guards, when the regiment was quartered at Ipswich, find a shilling, which was covered with sawdust, in the riding-school at the Cavalry Barracks at that place, and give it to his owner. I thought this a wonderful instance of sagacity as well as docility, but how very far does this fall short of the intellectual faculty of dogs! I do not intend to assert that they are endowed with mental powers equal to those which the human race possess, but to contend that there is not a faculty of the human mind of which some evident proofs of its existence may not be found in dogs. Thus we find them possessed of memory, imagination, the powers of imitation, curiosity, cunning, revenge, ingenuity, gratitude, devotion, or affection, and other qualities. They are able to communicate their wants, their pleasures, and their pains, their apprehensions of danger, and their prospects of future good, by modulating their voices accordingly, and by significant gestures. They perfectly comprehend our wishes, and live with us as friends and companions. When the fear of man and dread of him were inflicted as a curse on the animal creation, the dog-kind alone seems an exception, and their sagacity and fidelity to the human race was an incalculable blessing bestowed upon them. These remarks are fully borne out in a very interesting article on the dog in the "Quarterly Review" of September, 1843.

A fine, handsome, and valuable black dog of the Newfoundland species, belonging to Mr. Floyd, solicitor, Holmfirth, committed suicide by drowning itself in the river which flows at the back of its owner's habitation. For some days previous the animal seemed less animated than usual, but on this particular occasion he was noticed to throw himself into the water and endeavour to sink by preserving perfect stillness of the legs and feet. Being dragged out of the stream, the dog was tied up for a time, but had no sooner been released than he again hastened to the water and again tried to sink, and was again got out. This occurred many times, until at length the animal with repeated efforts appeared to get exhausted, and by dint of keeping his head determinedly under water for a few minutes succeeded at last in obtaining his object, for when taken out this time he was indeed dead. The case is worth recording, as affording another proof of the general instinct and sagacity of the canine race.

Mr. Nicol, late of Pall Mall, told me he saw an old foxhound deliberately drown itself, and was ready to make oath of it.

Mrs. Kaye, residing opposite Windsor Park Wall, Datchet, had a beautiful Newfoundland dog. For the convenience of the family a boat was kept, that they might at times cross the water without the inconvenience of going a considerable way round to Datchet Bridge. The dog was so delighted with the aquatic trips, that he very rarely permitted the boat to go without him. It happened that the coachman, who had been but little accustomed to the depths and shallows of the water, intending a forcible push with the punt pole, which was not long enough to reach the bottom, fell over the side of the boat in the deepest part of the water, and in the central part of the current, which accident was observed by a part of the family then at the front windows of the house; sudden and dreadful as the alarm was, they had the consolation of seeing the sagacious animal instantaneously follow his companion, when after diving, and making two or three abortive attempts, by laying hold of different parts of his apparel, which as repeatedly gave way or overpowered his exertions, he then, with the most determined and energetic fortitude, seized him by the arm, and brought him to the edge of the bank, where the domestics of the terrified family were ready to assist in extricating him from his perilous situation.[J]

I have mentioned that revenge had been shown by dogs, and the following is an instance of it. A gentleman was staying at Worthing, where his Newfoundland dog was teased and annoyed by a small cur, which snapped and barked at him. This he bore, without appearing to notice it, for some time; but at last the Newfoundland dog seemed to lose his usual patience and forbearance, and he one day, in the presence of several spectators, took the cur up by his back, swam with it into the sea, held it under the water, and would probably have drowned it, had not a boat been put off and rescued it. There was another instance communicated to me. A fine Newfoundland dog had been constantly annoyed by a small spaniel. The former, seizing the opportunity when they were on a terrace under which a river flowed, took up the spaniel in his mouth, and dropped it over the parapet into the river.

Jukes, in his "Excursions in and about Newfoundland," says, "A thin, short-haired black dog, belonging to George Harvey, came off to us to-day; this animal was of a breed very different from what we understand by the term Newfoundland dog in England. He had a thin tapering snout, a long thin tail, and rather thin but powerful legs, with a lank body, the hair short and smooth. These are the most abundant dogs of the country, the long-haired curly dogs being comparatively rare. They are by no means handsome, but are generally more intelligent and useful than the others. This one caught his own fish; he sat on a projecting rock beneath a fish-lake or stage, where the fish are laid to dry, watching the water, which had a depth of six or eight feet, the bottom of which was white with fish-bones. On throwing a piece of codfish into the water, three or four heavy, clumsy-looking fish, called in Newfoundland sculpins, with great heads and mouths, and many spines about them, and generally about a foot long, would swim in to catch it. These he would '_set_' attentively, and the moment one turned his broadside to him, he darted down like a fish-hawk, and seldom came up without the fish in his mouth. As he caught them he carried them regularly to a place a few yards off, where he laid them down; and they told us that in the summer he would sometimes make a pile of fifty or sixty a-day just at that place. He never attempted to eat them, but seemed to be fishing purely for his own amusement. I watched him for about two hours, and when the fish did not come I observed he once or twice put his right foot in the water, and paddled it about. This foot was white, and Harvey said he did it to _toll_ or entice the fish; but whether it was for that specific reason, or merely a motion of impatience, I could not exactly decide."

Extraordinary as the following anecdote may appear to some persons, it is strictly true, and strongly shows the sense, and I am almost inclined to add, reason of the Newfoundland dog.

A friend of mine, while shooting wild fowl with his brother, was attended by a sagacious dog of this breed. In getting near some reeds by the side of a river, they threw down their hats, and crept to the edge of the water, when they fired at some birds. They soon afterwards sent the dog to bring their hats, one of which was smaller than the other. After several attempts to bring them both together in his mouth, the dog at last placed the smaller hat in the larger one, pressed it down with his foot, and thus was able to bring them both at the same time.

A gentleman residing in Fifeshire, and not far from the city of St. Andrews, was in possession of a very fine Newfoundland dog, which was remarkable alike for its tractability and its trustworthiness. At two other points, each distant about a mile, and at the same distance from this gentleman's mansion, there were two dogs of great power, but of less tractable breeds than the Newfoundland one. One of these was a large mastiff, kept as a watch-dog by a farmer, and the other a stanch bull-dog, that kept guard over the parish mill. As each of these three was lord-ascendant of all animals at his master's residence, they all had a good deal of aristocratic pride and pugnacity, so that two of them seldom met without attempting to settle their respective dignities by a wager of battle.

The Newfoundland dog was of some service in the domestic arrangements, besides his guardianship of the house; for every forenoon he was sent to the baker's shop in the village, about half-a-mile distant, with a towel containing money in the corner, and he returned with the value of the money in bread. There were many useless and not over-civil curs in the village, as there are in too many villages throughout the country; but generally the haughty Newfoundland treated this ignoble race in that contemptuous style in which great dogs are wont to treat little ones. When the dog returned from the baker's shop, he used to be regularly served with his dinner, and went peaceably on house-duty for the rest of the day.

One day, however, he returned with his coat dirtied and his ears scratched, having been subjected to a combined attack of the curs while he had charge of his towel and bread, and so could not defend himself. Instead of waiting for his dinner as usual, he laid down his charge somewhat sulkily, and marched off; and, upon looking after him, it was observed that he was crossing the intervening hollow in a straight line for the house of the farmer, or rather on an embassy to the farmer's mastiff. The farmer's people noticed this unusual visit, which they were induced to do from its being a meeting of peace between those who had habitually been belligerents. After some intercourse, of which no interpretation could be given, the two set off together in the direction of the mill; and having arrived there, they in brief space engaged the miller's bull-dog as an ally.

The straight road to the village where the indignity had been offered to the Newfoundland dog passed immediately in front of his master's house, but there was a more private and more circuitous road by the back of the mill. The three took this road, reached the village, scoured it in great wrath, putting to the tooth every cur they could get sight of; and having taken their revenge, and washed themselves in a ditch, they returned, each dog to the abode of his master; and, when any two of them happened to meet afterwards, they displayed the same pugnacity as they had done previous to this joint expedition.

There is a well-authenticated anecdote of two dogs at Donaghadee, in which the instinctive daring of the one by the other caused a friendship, and, as it should seem, a kind of lamentation for the dead, after one of them had paid the debt of nature. This happened while the Government harbour or pier for the packets at Donaghadee was in the course of building, and it took place in the sight of several witnesses. The one dog in this case was also a Newfoundland, and the other was a mastiff. They were both powerful dogs; and though each was good-natured when alone, they were very much in the habit of fighting when they met. One day they had a fierce and prolonged battle on the pier, from the point of which they both fell into the sea; and as the pier was long and steep, they had no means of escape but by swimming a considerable distance. Throwing water upon fighting dogs is an approved means of putting an end to their hostilities; and it is natural to suppose that two combatants of the same species tumbling themselves into the sea would have the same effect. It had; and each began to make for the land as best he could. The Newfoundland being an excellent swimmer, very speedily gained the pier, on which he stood shaking himself; but at the same time watching the motions of his late antagonist, which, being no swimmer, was struggling exhausted in the water, and just about to sink. In dashed the Newfoundland dog, took the other gently by the collar, kept his head above water, and brought him safely on shore. There was a peculiar kind of recognition between the two animals; they never fought again; they were always together: and when the Newfoundland dog had been accidentally killed by the passage of a stone waggon on the railway over him, the other languished and evidently lamented for a long time.

A gentleman had a pointer and Newfoundland dog, which were great friends. The former broke his leg, and was confined to a kennel. During that time the Newfoundland never failed bringing bones and other food to the pointer, and would sit for hours together by the side of his suffering friend.

During a period of very hot weather, the Mayor of Plymouth gave orders that all dogs found wandering in the public streets should be secured by the police, and removed to the prison-yard. Among them was a Newfoundland dog belonging to a shipowner of the port, who, with several others, was tied up in the yard. The Newfoundland soon gnawed the rope which confined him, and then hearing the cries of his companions to be released, he set to work to gnaw the ropes which confined them, and had succeeded in three or four instances, when he was interrupted by the entrance of the jailor.

A nearly similar case has frequently occurred in the Cumberland Gardens, Windsor Great Park. Two dogs of the Newfoundland breed were confined in kennels at that place. When one of them was let loose, he has been frequently seen to set his companion free.

A boatman once plunged into the water to swim with another man for a wager. His Newfoundland dog, mistaking the purpose, and supposing that his master was in danger, plunged after him, and dragged him to the shore by his hair, to the great diversion of the spectators.

Mr. Peter Macarthur informs me, that in the year 1821, when opposite to Falmouth, he was at breakfast with a gentleman, when a large Newfoundland dog, all dripping with water, entered the room, and laid a newspaper on the table. The gentleman (who was one of the Society of Friends) informed the party, that this dog swam regularly across the ferry every morning, and went to the post-office, and fetched the papers of the day.

Mr. Blaine, in his "Encyclopaedia of Rural Sports," tells the following story:--A Newfoundland dog, of the small, smooth-haired variety, in coming to England from his native country, was washed overboard during a tempestuous night. As daylight appeared the gale ceased, when a sailor at the mast-head descried something far in the wake of the vessel, which, by the help of his glass, he was led to believe was the dog, which was so great a favourite with the crew that it was unanimously requested of the captain of the vessel to _lie to_, and wait for the chance of saving the poor brute. The captain, who had probably lost some time already by the storm, peremptorily refused to listen to the humane proposal. Whether it was the kindly feeling of the sailors, or the superstitious dread that if the dog were suffered to perish nothing would afterwards prosper with them, we are not informed; but we do know that, as soon as a refusal was made, the steersman left the helm, roundly asserting that he for one would never lend a hand to steer away from either Christian or brute in distress. The feeling was immediately caught by the rest of the crew, and maintained so resolutely, that the captain was forced to accede to the general wish; and the poor dog eventually reached the ship in safety, after having been, as we were informed, and implicitly believe, some hours in a tempestuous sea.

Bewick mentions an instance which shows the extraordinary sagacity of these dogs.

In a severe storm, a ship was lost off Yarmouth, and no living creature escaped, except a Newfoundland dog, which swam to the shore with the captain's pocket-book in his mouth. Several of the bystanders attempted to take it from him, but he would not part with it. At length, selecting one person from the crowd, whose appearance probably pleased him, he leaped against his breast in a fawning manner, and delivered the book to his care.

After mentioning this anecdote it will not be displeasing to read Lord Grenville's lines on his faithful Newfoundland, as they may now be seen at Dropmore, with the translation of them:--

TIPPO.

IN VILLA.

Tippo ego hic jaceo, lapidem ne sperne, viator,
Qui tali impositus stat super ossa cani.
Larga mi natura manu dedit omnia, nostrum
Quaecunque exornant nobilitantque genus:
Robur erat validum, formae concinna venustas,
Ingenui mores, intemerata fides.
Nec pudet invisi nomen gessisse tyranni,
Si tam dissimili viximus ingenio.
Naufragus in nuda Tenbeiae[K] ejectus arena,
Ploravi domino me superesse meo,
Quem mihi, luctanti frustra, frustraque juvanti,
Abreptum, oceani in gurgite mersit hyems.
Solus ego sospes, sed quas miser ille tabellas
Morte mihi in media credidit, ore ferens.
Dulci me hospitio Belgae excepere coloni,
Ipsa etiam his olim gens aliena plagis;
Et mihi gratum erat in longa spatiarier[L] ora,
Et quanquam infido membra lavare mari;
Gratum erat aestivis puerorum adjungere turmis
Participem lusus me, comitemque viae.
Verum ubi, de multis captanti frustula mensis,
Bruma aderat, seniique hora timenda mei,
Insperata adeo illuxit fortuna, novique
Perfugium et requiem cura dedit domini.
Exinde hos saltus, haec inter florea rura,
Et vixi felix, et tumulum hunc habeo.

TIPPO.

_Translated by a young Lady, a near Relation of the Author._

Here, stranger, pause, nor view with scornful eyes
The stone which marks where faithful Tippo lies.
Freely kind Nature gave each liberal grace,
Which most ennobles and exalts our race,
Excelling strength and beauty joined in me,
Ingenuous worth, and firm fidelity.
Nor shame I to have borne a tyrant's name,
So far unlike to his my spotless fame.
Cast by a fatal storm on Tenby's coast,
Reckless of life, I wailed my master lost.
Whom long contending with the o'erwhelming wave
In vain with fruitless love I strove to save.
I, only I, alas! surviving bore,
His dying trust, his tablets,[M] to the shore.
Kind welcome from the Belgian race I found,
Who, once in times remote, to British ground
Strangers like me came from a foreign strand.
I loved at large along the extended sand
To roam, and oft beneath the swelling wave,
Tho' known so fatal once, my limbs to lave;
Or join the children in their summer play,
First in their sports, companion of their way.
Thus while from many a hand a meal I sought,
Winter and age had certain misery brought;
But Fortune smiled, a safe and blest abode
A new-found master's generous love bestowed,
And midst these shades, where smiling flow'rets bloom,
Gave me a happy life and honoured tomb.

Dr. Abell, in one of his lectures on phrenology, related a very striking anecdote of a Newfoundland dog at Cork. This dog was of a noble and generous disposition, and when he left his master's house 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. One little cur, however, was particularly troublesome, and at length carried his petulance so far as to bite the Newfoundland dog in the back of his foot. This was too much to be patiently endured. He instantly turned round, ran after the offender, and seized him by the skin of his 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 seem, however, to wish to punish the culprit too much, for he waited a little while the poor animal, who was unused to that element, was not only well ducked, but near sinking, when he plunged in himself, and brought the other safe to land.

An officer, late in the 15th Hussars, informed me that he had witnessed a similar occurrence at St. Petersburg. These certainly are instances of a noble and generous disposition, as well as of great forbearance in not resenting an injury.

I may add the following instance of sagacity from the same quarter.

A vessel was driven by a storm on the beach of Lydd, in Kent. The surf was rolling furiously. Eight men were calling 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 noble animal to the vessel, and put a short stick into his mouth. The intelligent and courageous dog at once understood his meaning, and sprung into the sea, fighting his way through the foaming waves. He could not, however, get close enough to the vessel to deliver that with which he was charged, but the crew joyfully made fast a rope to another piece of wood, and threw it towards him. The sagacious dog saw the whole business in an instant; he dropped his own piece, and immediately seized that which had been cast to him; and then, with a degree of strength and determination almost incredible, he dragged it through the surge and delivered it to his master. By this means a line of communication was formed, and every man on board saved.

The keeper of a ferry on the banks of the Severn had a sagacious Newfoundland dog. If a dog was left behind by his owner in crossing, and was afraid of taking to the water, the Newfoundland dog has been frequently known to take the yelping animal in his mouth and convey it into the river. A person while rowing a boat, pushed his Newfoundland dog into the stream. The animal followed the boat for some time, till, probably finding himself fatigued, he endeavoured to get into it by placing his feet on the side. His owner repeatedly pushed the dog away, and in one of his efforts to do so he overbalanced himself and fell into the river, and would probably have been drowned, had not the noble and generous animal immediately seized and held him above water till assistance arrived from the shore.

About twelve years ago a fine dog of a cross-breed, between a Newfoundland and a pointer, had been left by the captain of a vessel in the care of Mr. Park, of the White Hart Inn, Greenock. A friend of his, a gentleman from Argyllshire, took a fancy to this dog; and, when returning home, requested the loan of him for some time from Mr. Park, which he granted. This gentleman had some time before married a lady much to the dissatisfaction of his friends, who, in consequence, treated her with some degree of coldness and neglect. While he remained at home, the dog constantly attended him, and paid no apparent attention to the lady, who, on her part, never evinced any particular partiality for the dog. One time, however, the gentleman was called from home on business, and was to be absent several days. He wished to take the dog with him; but no entreaties could induce him to follow. The animal was then tied up to prevent his leaving the house in his absence; but he became quite furious till he was released, when he flew into the house and found his mistress, and would not leave her. He watched at the door of whatever room she was in, and would allow no one to approach without her special permission. When the gentleman returned home, the dog seemed to take no more notice of the lady, but returned quietly to his former lodging in the stable. The whole circumstance caused considerable surprise; and the gentleman, wishing to try if the dog would again act in the same manner, left home for a day or two, when the animal actually resumed the faithful guardianship of his mistress as before; and this he continued to do whenever his master was absent, all the time he remained in his possession, which was two years.

The following anecdotes of an astonishing dog called Dandie are related by Captain Brown:--

"Mr. M'Intyre, patent-mangle manufacturer, Regent Bridge, Edinburgh, has a dog of the Newfoundland breed, crossed with some other, named Dandie, whose sagacious qualifications are truly astonishing and almost incredible. As the animal continues daily to give the most striking proofs of his powers, he is well known in the neighbourhood, and any person may satisfy himself of the reality of those feats, many of which the writer has himself had the pleasure to witness.

"When Mr. M'Intyre is in company, how numerous soever it may be, if he but say to the dog, 'Dandie, bring me my hat,' he immediately picks out the hat from all the others, and puts it in his master's hand.

"Should every gentleman in company throw a penknife on the floor, the dog, when commanded, will select his master's knife from the heap, and bring it to him.

"A pack of cards being scattered in the room, if his master have previously selected one of them, the dog will find it out and bring it to him.

"A comb was hid on the top of a mantel-piece in the room, and the dog required to bring it, which he almost immediately did, although in the search he found a number of articles, also belonging to his master, purposely strewed around, all which he passed over, and brought the identical comb which he was required to find, fully proving that he is not guided by the sense of smell, but that he perfectly understands whatever is spoken to him.

"One evening, some gentlemen being in company, one of them accidentally dropped a shilling on the floor, which, after the most careful search, could not be found. Mr. M'Intyre seeing his dog sitting in a corner, and looking as if quite unconscious of what was passing, said to him, 'Dandie, find us the shilling, and you shall have a biscuit.' The dog immediately jumped upon the table and laid down the shilling, which he had previously picked up without having been perceived.

"One time, having been left in a room in the house of Mrs. Thomas, High Street, he remained quiet for a considerable time; but as no one opened the door, he became impatient, and rang the bell; and when the servant opened the door, she was surprised to find the dog pulling the bell-rope. Since that period, which was the first time he was observed to do it, he pulls the bell whenever he is desired; and what appears still more remarkable, if there is no bell-rope in the room, he will examine the table, and if he finds a hand-bell, he takes it in his mouth and rings it.

"Mr. M'Intyre having one evening supped with a friend, on his return home, as it was rather late, he found all the family in bed. He could not find his boot-jack in the place where it usually lay, nor could he find it anywhere in the room after the strictest search. He then said to his dog, 'Dandie, I cannot find my bootjack; search for it.' The faithful animal, quite sensible of what had been said to him, scratched at the room-door, which his master opened. Dandie proceeded to a very distant part of the house, and soon returned, carrying in his mouth the bootjack, which Mr. M. now recollected to have left that morning under a sofa.

"A number of gentlemen, well acquainted with Dandie, are daily in the habit of giving him a penny, which he takes to a baker's shop and purchases bread for himself. One of these gentlemen, who lives in James's Square, when passing some time ago, was accosted by Dandie, in expectation of his usual present. Mr. T---- then said to him, 'I have not a penny with me to-day, but I have one at home.' Having returned to his house some time after, he heard a noise at the door, which was opened by the servant, when in sprang Dandie to receive his penny. In a frolic Mr. T---- gave him a bad one, which he, as usual, carried to the baker, but was refused his bread, as the money was bad. He immediately returned to Mr. T----'s, knocked at the door, and when the servant opened it, laid the penny down at her feet, and walked off, seemingly with the greatest contempt.

"Although Dandie, in general, makes an immediate purchase of bread with the money which he receives, yet the following circumstance clearly demonstrates that he possesses more prudent foresight than many who are reckoned rational beings.

"One Sunday, when it was very unlikely that he could have received a present of money, Dandie was observed to bring home a loaf. Mr. M'Intyre being somewhat surprised at this, desired the servant to search the room to see if any money could be found. While she was engaged in this task, the dog seemed quite unconcerned till she approached the bed, when he ran to her, and gently drew her back from it. Mr. M. then secured the dog, which kept struggling and growling while the servant went under the bed, where she found 71/2_d._ under a bit of cloth; but from that time he never could endure the girl, and was frequently observed to hide his money in a corner of a saw-pit, under the dust.

"When Mr. M. has company, if he desire the dog to see any one of the gentlemen home, it will walk with him till he reach his home, and then return to his master, how great soever the distance may be.

"A brother of Mr. M.'s and another gentleman went one day to Newhaven, and took Dandie along with them. After having bathed, they entered a garden in the town; and having taken some refreshment in one of the arbours, they took a walk around the garden, the gentleman leaving his hat and gloves in the place. In the meantime some strangers came into the garden, and went into the arbour which the others had left. Dandie immediately, without being ordered, ran to the place and brought off the hat and gloves, which he presented to the owner. One of the gloves, however, had been left; but it was no sooner mentioned to the dog than he rushed to the place, jumped again into the midst of the astonished company, and brought off the glove in triumph.

"A gentleman living with Mr. M'Intyre, going out to supper one evening, locked the garden-gate behind him, and laid the key on the top of the wall, which is about seven feet high. When he returned, expecting to let himself in the same way, to his great surprise the key could not be found, and he was obliged to go round to the front door, which was a considerable distance about. The next morning strict search was made for the key, but still no trace of it could be discovered. At last, perceiving that the dog followed him wherever he went, he said to him, 'Dandie, you have the key--go, fetch it.' Dandie immediately went into the garden and scratched away the earth from the root of a cabbage, and produced the key, which he himself had undoubtedly hid in that place.

"If his master place him on a chair, and request him to sing, he will instantly commence a howling, which he gives high or low as signs are made to him with the finger.

"About three years ago a mangle was sent by a cart from the warehouse, Regent Bridge, to Portobello, at which time the dog was not present. Afterwards, Mr. M. went to his own house, North Back of the Canongate, and took Dandie with him, to have the mangle delivered. When he had proceeded a little way the dog ran off, and he lost sight of him. He still walked forward; and in a little time he found the cart in which the mangle was, turned towards Edinburgh, with Dandie holding fast by the reins, and the carter in the greatest perplexity; the man stated that the dog had overtaken him, jumped on his cart, and examined the mangle, and then had seized the reins of the horse and turned him fairly round, and that he would not let go his hold, although he had beaten him with a stick. On Mr. M.'s arrival, however, the dog quietly allowed the carter to proceed to his place of destination."

* * * * *

The following is another instance of extraordinary sagacity. A Newfoundland dog, belonging to a grocer, had observed one of the porters of the house, and who was often in the shop, frequently take money from the till, and which the man was in the habit of concealing in the stable. The dog, having witnessed these thefts, became restless, pulling persons by the skirts of their coats, and apparently wishing them to follow him. At length, an apprentice had occasion to go to the stable; the dog followed him, and having drawn his attention to the heap of rubbish under which the money was buried, began to scratch till he had brought the booty to view. The apprentice brought it to his master, who marked the money and restored it to the place where it had been hidden. Some of the marked money was soon afterwards found on the porter, who was taken before a magistrate, and convicted of the theft.