Chapter IV: Part 4

The instances in which persons have been saved from drowning by the Newfoundland dog, are innumerable. The following anecdote is the more remarkable, as it does not appear that the affectionate animal was of that species. A young man belonging to the city of Paris, desirous of getting rid of his dog, took it along with him to the River Seine. He hired a boat, and, rowing into the stream, threw the animal in. The poor creature attempted to climb up the side of the boat, but his master, whose intention was to drown him, constantly pushed him back with the oar. In doing this, he fell himself into the water, and would certainly have been drowned, had not the dog, as soon as he saw his master struggling in the stream, suffered the boat to float away, and held him above the water till assistance arrived, and his life was saved.

Of the alertness of the dog in recovering the lost property of its master, we shall furnish a striking instance. M. Dumont, a tradesman of the Rue St. Denis, Paris, offered to lay a wager with a friend that, if he were to hide a six-livre piece in the dust, his dog would discover and bring it to him. The wager was accepted, and the piece of money secreted, after being carefully marked. When they had proceeded some distance from the spot, M. Dumont signified to his dog that he had lost something, and ordered him to seek it. Caniche immediately turned back, while his master and his companion pursued their walk to the Rue St. Denis.

Meanwhile a traveller, who happened to be just then returning in a small chaise from Vincennes, perceived the piece of money, which his horse had kicked from its hiding-place; he alighted, took it up, and drove to his inn in Rue Pont-aux-Choux, and Caniche had just reached the spot in search of the lost piece when the stranger picked it up. He followed the chaise, went into the inn, and stuck close to the traveller. Having scented out the coin, which he had been ordered to bring back, in the pocket of the latter, he leaped up incessantly at and about him. The gentleman, supposing him to be some dog that had been lost or left behind by his master, regarded his different movements as marks of fondness; and as the animal was handsome, he determined to keep him. He gave him a good supper, and, on retiring to bed, took him with him to his chamber. No sooner had he pulled off his breeches, than they were seized by the dog; the owner, conceiving he wanted to play with them, took them away again. The animal began to bark at the door, which the traveller opened, under the idea that he wanted to go out. Caniche instantly snatched up the breeches, and away he flew. The stranger posted after him with his night-cap on, and nearly _sans culottes_.

Anxiety for the fate of a purse full of double Napoleons, of forty francs each, which was in one of the pockets, gave redoubled velocity to his steps. Caniche ran full speed to his master's house, where the stranger arrived a moment afterwards, breathless and furious. He accused the dog of robbing him. "Sir," said the master, "my dog is a very faithful creature, and if he has run away with your breeches, it is because you have in them money which does not belong to you." The traveller became still more exasperated. "Compose yourself, sir," rejoined the other, smiling; "without doubt there is in your purse a six-livre piece with such and such marks, which you picked up in the Boulevard St. Antoine, and which I threw down there with a firm conviction that my dog would bring it back again. This is the cause of the robbery which he has committed upon you!" The stranger's rage now yielded to astonishment; he delivered the six-livre piece to the owner, and could not forbear caressing the dog which had given him so much uneasiness and such an unpleasant chase.

A shepherd on the Grampian Mountains, having left his child at the foot of the hill, was soon enveloped in mist; and, unable to return to the precise place, he could not discover the child. In vain he searched for it in the midst of the mist, not knowing whither he went; and when, at length, the moon shone clearly, he found himself at his cottage, and far from the hill. He searched in vain next day, with a band of shepherds. On returning to his cottage, he found that the dog, on receiving a piece of cake, had instantly gone off. He renewed the search for several days, and still the dog had disappeared, during his absence, taking with it a piece of cake. Struck with this circumstance, he remained at home one day, and when the dog, as usual, departed with his piece of cake, he resolved to follow him. The dog led the way to a cataract at some distance from the spot where the shepherd had left his child.

The banks of the waterfall almost joined at the top, yet, separated by an abyss of immense depth, presented that abrupt appearance which so often astonishes and appals the traveller amidst the Grampian Mountains. Down one of these rugged and almost perpendicular descents the dog began, without hesitation, to make his way, and at last disappeared in a cave, the mouth of which was almost upon a level with the torrent. The shepherd with difficulty followed; but, on entering the cave, what were his emotions when he beheld his infant eating, with much satisfaction, the cake which the dog had just brought him, while the faithful animal stood by, eyeing his young charge with the utmost complacence. From the situation in which the child was found, it appears that he had wandered to the brink of the precipice, and either fallen or scrambled down till he reached the cave, which the dread of the torrent had afterwards prevented him from leaving. The dog, by means of his scent, had traced him to the spot, and afterwards prevented him from starving by giving up to him his own daily allowance. He appears never to have quitted the child by night or day, except when it was necessary to go for its food, and then he was always seen running at full speed to and from the cottage.

The memory of the dog Gelert has been preserved by tradition, and celebrated in poetry. In the neighborhood of a village at the foot of Snowdon, a mountain in Wales, Llewellyn, son-in-law to King John, had a residence. The king, it is said, had presented him with one of the finest greyhounds in England, named Gelert. In the year 1205, Llewellyn one day, on going out to hunt, called all his dogs together; but his favorite greyhound was missing, and nowhere to be found. He blew his horn as a signal for the chase, and still Gelert came not. Llewellyn was much disconcerted at the heedlessness of his favorite, but at length pursued the chase without him. For want of Gelert the sport was limited; and, getting tired, he returned home at an early hour, when the first object that presented itself to him at the castle gate was Gelert, who bounded with the usual transport to meet his master, having his lips besmeared with blood. Llewellyn gazed with surprise at the unusual appearance of his dog.

On going into the apartment where he had left his infant son and heir asleep, he found the bed-clothes all in confusion, the cover rent and stained with blood. He called on his child, but no answer was made, from which he hastily concluded that the dog must have devoured him; and, giving vent to his rage, plunged his sword to the hilt in Gelert's side. The noble animal fell at his feet, uttering a dying yell which awoke the infant, who was sleeping beneath a mingled heap of the bed-clothes, while beneath the bed lay a great wolf covered with gore, whom the faithful and gallant hound had destroyed. Llewellyn, smitten with sorrow and remorse for the rash and frantic deed which had deprived him of so faithful an animal, caused an elegant marble monument, with an appropriate inscription, to be erected over the spot where Gelert was buried, to commemorate his fidelity and unhappy fate. The place to this day is called Beth-Gelert, or the Grave of the Greyhound.

"Here never could the spearman pass,
Or forester, unmoved;
Here oft the tear-besprinkled grass
Llewellyn's sorrow proved.
And here he hung his horn and spear,
And oft, as evening fell,
In fancy's piercing sounds would hear
Poor Gelert's dying yell."

The bull-dog would appear the least likely to combat with a heavy sea, and yet the following circumstances are well authenticated: On board a ship, which struck upon a rock near the shore, there were three dogs, two of the Newfoundland variety, and one a small but firmly-built English bull-dog. It was important to have a rope carried ashore, and it was thought that one of the Newfoundland dogs might succeed; but he was not able to struggle with the waves, and perished; and the other Newfoundland dog, being thrown over with the rope, shared the same fate. But the bull-dog, though not habituated to the water, swam triumphantly to land, and thus saved the lives of the persons on board. Among them was his master, a military officer, who still has the dog in his possession.

Among the instances of sagacity, mingled with an affection for its master, may be mentioned those cases in which the dog notices or detects thefts, and restores lost or stolen articles to its master. An acquaintance of Lord Fife's coachman had put a bridle belonging to the earl in his pocket, and would have abstracted it, had he not been stopped by a Highland cur, that observed him, barked at him, and absolutely bit his leg. This was unusual conduct in the dog; but the wonder of the servants ceased when they saw the end of the bridle peeping out of the visitor's pocket; and it being delivered up, the dog became quiet. It is well known that in London, the other year, a box, properly directed, was sent to a merchant's shop to lie there all night, and be shipped off with other goods next morning, and that a dog, which accidentally came into the shop with a customer, by his smelling it, and repeatedly barking in a peculiar way, led to the discovery that the box contained not goods, but a rogue who intended to admit his companions and plunder the shop in the night-time.

A man who frequented the _Pont Neuf_ in Paris, and whose business it was to brush the boots of persons passing by, taught his dog, which was a poodle, to roll himself in the mud, and then brush by gentlemen so as to soil their boots. In this way, the animal largely contributed to support the trade of his master.

There were two friends--one living in London, the other at Guildford. These were on terms of the greatest intimacy, and for many years it had been the custom of the London family to pass the Christmas with the one at Guildford. Their usual practice was to arrive to dinner the day before, and they were always accompanied by a large spaniel, who was as great a favorite of the visited as of the visitors.

At the end of about seven years, the two families had an unfortunate misunderstanding, which occasioned an omission of the usual Christmas invitation. About an hour before dinner, the Guildford gentleman, who was standing at the window, exclaimed to his wife, "Well, my dear, the W.'s have thought better of it, for I declare they are coming as usual, although we did not invite them; for here comes Caesar to announce them;" and the dog came trotting up to the door, and was admitted, as usual, into the parlor.

The lady of the house gave orders to prepare beds; dinner waited an hour; but no guests arrived. Caesar, having staid the exact number of days to which he had been accustomed, set off for home, and reached it in safety. The correspondence which subsequently occurred had the happy effect of renewing the intercourse of the estranged friends; and as long as Caesar lived, he paid the annual visit in company with his master and mistress.

A terrier, belonging to the Marchioness of Stafford, having lost a litter of puppies, was quite disconsolate, till, perceiving a brood of young ducks, she immediately seized them, and carried them to her lair, where she kept them, following them out and in, and nursing them in her own way with the most affectionate anxiety. When the ducklings, obeying their instinct, went into the water, their foster-mother exhibited the utmost alarm, and as soon as they returned to land, she snatched them up, one by one, in her mouth, and ran home with them.

The next year, the same animal, being again deprived of her puppies, seized two cock chickens, which she reared with infinite care. When they began to crow, their foster-mother was as much annoyed as she had been with the swimming of the young ducks, and never failed to repress their attempts at crowing.

A man engaged in smuggling lace into France from Flanders, trained an active and sagacious spaniel to aid him in his enterprise. He caused him to be shaved, and procured for him the skin of another dog of the same hair and the same shape. He then rolled the lace round the body of the dog, and put over it the other skin so adroitly that the trick could not be easily discovered. The lace being thus arranged, the smuggler would say to the docile messenger, "Homeward, my friend." At these words, the dog would start, and pass boldly through the gates of Malines and Valenciennes in the face of the vigilant officers placed there to prevent smuggling.

Having thus passed the bounds, he would await his master at a little distance in the open country. There they mutually caressed and feasted, and the merchant placed his rich package in a place of security, renewing his occupation as occasion required. Such was the success of this smuggler, that, in less than five years, he amassed a handsome fortune, and kept his coach.

Envy pursues the prosperous. A mischievous neighbor at length betrayed the lace merchant; notwithstanding all his efforts to disguise the dog, he was suspected, watched, and discovered. But the cunning of the dog was equal to the emergency. Did the spies of the custom-house expect him at one gate, he saw them at a distance, and ran to another; were all the gates shut against him, he overcame every obstacle; sometimes he leaped over the wall; at others, passing secretly behind a carriage, or running between the legs of travellers, he would thus accomplish his aim. One day, however, while swimming a stream near Malines, he was shot, and died in the water. There was then about him five thousand crowns' worth of lace--the loss of which did not afflict his master, but he was inconsolable for the loss of his faithful dog.

A dog belonging to a chamois-hunter, being on the glaciers in Switzerland, with an Englishman and his master, observed the former approaching one of the crevices in the ice, to look into it. He began to slide towards the edge; his guide, with a view to save him, caught his coat, and both slid onward, till the dog seized his master's clothes, and preserved them both from inevitable death.

Dogs have a capacity to act upon excitements of an artificial nature. A dog, in Paris, at the commencement of the revolution, was known to musicians by the name of Parade, because he regularly attended the military at the Tuileries, stood by and marched with the band. At night he went to the opera, and dined with any musician who intimated, by word or gesture, that his company was asked; yet always withdrew from any attempt to be made the property of any individual.

The Penny Magazine furnishes a still more singular instance of the desire of excitement, in a dog which, for several years, was always present at the fires in London. Some years ago, a gentleman residing a few miles from London, in Surrey, was roused in the middle of the night by the intelligence that the premises adjoining his house of business were on fire. The removal of his furniture and papers, of course, immediately called his attention; yet, notwithstanding this, and the bustle that is ever incident to a fire, his eye every now and then rested on a dog, whom, during the progress of the devouring element, he could not help noticing, running about, and apparently taking a deep interest in what was going on--contriving to keep himself out of every body's way, and yet always present amidst the thickest of the stir.

When the fire was got under, and the gentleman had leisure to look about him, he again observed the dog, who, with the firemen, appeared to be resting from the fatigues of duty, and was led to make inquiries respecting him. Stooping down, and patting the animal, he addressed a fireman near him, and asked him if the dog were his.

"No, sir," replied the man, "he does not belong to me, nor to any one in particular. We call him the firemen's dog."

"The firemen's dog? Why so? Has he no master?"

"No, sir; he calls none of us master, though we are all of us willing to give him a night's lodging, and a pennyworth of meat; but he won't stay long with any of us. His delight is to be at all the fires of London, and, far or near, we generally find him on the road as we are going along; and sometimes, if it is out of town, we give him a lift. I don't think that there has been a fire for these two or three years past which he has not been at."

Three years after this conversation, the same gentleman was again called up in the night to a fire in the village where he resided, and, to his surprise, he again met "the firemen's dog," still alive and well, pursuing, with the same apparent interest and satisfaction, the exhibition of that which generally brings with it ruin and loss of life. Still he called no man master, disdained to receive bed or board from the same hand more than a night or two at a time, nor could the firemen trace out his ordinary resting-place.

To this long list, we might add many other anecdotes, in evidence of the varied powers of the canine family. We have endeavored to select those only which are well authenticated. Some of these are sufficiently marvellous, but there are many other well-attested accounts equally wonderful. Mr. Hogg seems to imagine that mankind are prepared to believe any thing in respect to dogs which partakes of the mysterious, and accordingly plays off the following quiet joke upon his readers:--

"It's a good sign of a dog when his face grows like his master's. It's proof he's aye glow'ring up in his master's e'en to discover what he's thinking on; and then, without the word or wave of command, to be aff to execute the wull o' his silent thocht, whether it be to wean sheep, or to run doon deer. Hector got so like me, afore he dee'd, that I remember, when I was owre lazy to gang to the kirk, I used to send him to take my place in the pew, and the minister never kent the difference. Indeed, he once asked me next day what I thocht of the sermon; for he saw me wonderfu' attentive amang a rather sleepy congregation.

"Hector and me gied ane anither sic a look! and I was feared Mr. Paton would have observed it; but he was a simple, primitive, unsuspecting old man--a very Nathaniel without guile, and he jaloused nothing; tho' both Hector and me was like to split; and the dog, after laughing in his sleeve for mair than a hundred yards, couldn't stand't nae longer, but was obliged to loup awa owre a hedge into a potato field, pretending to scent partridges."

THE WOLF.

This is a fierce and savage beast, resembling in form and size the Newfoundland dog. It hunts in packs, and attacks deer, sheep, and sometimes even man himself. When taken young, it may be tamed. It is found in the northern portions of both continents. In North America, there are several varieties.

_Miscellaneous Anecdotes._--Mr. Cuvier gives an account of a wolf that had all the obedience and affection that any dog could evince. He was brought up by his master in the same manner as a puppy, and, when full grown, was sent to the menagerie at Paris. For many weeks, he was quite disconsolate at the separation from his master, refused to take food, and was indifferent to his keepers. At length he became attached to those about him, and seemed to have forgotten his old affections.

On his master's return, however, in a year and a half, the wolf heard his voice among the crowd in the gardens, and, being set at liberty, displayed the most violent joy. He was again separated from his friend; and again, his grief was as extreme as on the first occasion.

After three years' absence, his master once more returned. It was evening, and the wolf's den was shut up from any external observation; yet, the moment the man's voice was heard, the faithful animal set up the most anxious cries, and, on the door of his cage being opened, he rushed to his friend, leaped upon his shoulders, licked his face, and threatened to bite his keepers when they attempted to separate them. When the man again left him, he fell sick, and refused all food; and from the time of his recovery, which was long very doubtful, it was always dangerous for a stranger to approach him.

A story is told of a Scotch bagpiper, who was travelling in Ireland one evening, when he suddenly encountered a wolf who seemed to be very ravenous. The poor man could think of no other expedient to save his life, than to open his wallet, and try the effect of hospitality; he did so, and the savage beast swallowed all that was thrown to him with such voracity, that it seemed as if his appetite was not in the least degree satisfied.

The whole stock of provisions was of course soon spent, and now the man's only resource was in the virtues of his bagpipe; this the monster no sooner heard than he took to the mountains with the same precipitation with which he had left them. The poor piper did not wholly enjoy his deliverance; for, looking ruefully at his empty wallet, he shook his fist at the departing animal, saying, "Ay! Are these your tricks? Had I known your humor, you should have had your music before your supper."

In Sweden, frequent attacks are made upon the people by wolves, during the winter, as they are then often in a famishing condition. In one instance, a party of sixteen sledges were returning from a dance on a cold and starlight night. In the middle of the cavalcade was a sledge occupied by a lady; at the back of the vehicle sat the servant; and at her feet, on a bear skin, reposed her favorite lapdog. In passing through a wood, a large wolf suddenly sprang out, and, jumping into the sledge, seized the poor dog, and was out of sight before any steps could be taken for his rescue.

A Swedish peasant was one day crossing a large lake on his sledge, when he was attacked by a drove of wolves. This frightened the horse so much that he went off at full speed. There was a loose rope hanging from the back of the vehicle that had been used for binding hay; to the end of this a noose happened to be attached. Though this was not intended to catch a wolf, it fortunately effected that object; for one of the ferocious animals getting his feet entangled in it, he was immediately destroyed, owing to the rapidity with which the horse was proceeding.

The poor man at length reached a place of safety. Though he had been dreadfully frightened during the ride, he not only found himself much sooner at the end of his journey than he expected, but richer by the booty he had thus unexpectedly gained--the skin of a wolf in this country being worth about two dollars and a half.

A peasant in Russia was once pursued in his sledge by eleven wolves. Being about two miles from home, he urged his horse to the very extent of his speed. At the entrance to his residence was a gate, which being shut at the time, the frightened horse dashed open, and carried his master safely into the courtyard. Nine of the wolves followed them into the enclosure, when fortunately the gate swung back, and shut them all as it were in a trap. Finding themselves thus caught, the animals seemed to lose all their ferocity; and, as escape was impossible, slunk into holes and corners, molesting no one, and offering no resistance. They were all despatched without further difficulty.

The prairie wolf is said to be wonderfully cunning and sagacious. Instances have been known of his burrowing under ground to procure the bait from a trap, rather than run the chance of being caught above. Many and curious are the devices prepared to ensnare this animal, but very few have succeeded. This variety of wolf is common in the prairies of the western country, where it hunts deer by running them down. Sometimes a large number associate together, and, forming a crescent, creep slowly towards a herd of deer, so as not to alarm them. They then rush on with hideous yells, and drive the poor animals towards a precipice, seeming to know that, when they are once at full speed, they will all follow one another over the cliff. The wolves then descend at leisure, and feed upon their slaughtered victims.

A farmer in France, one day looking through the hedge in his garden, observed a wolf walking round a mule, but unable to get at him on account of the mule's constantly kicking with his hind legs. As the farmer perceived that the beast was so well able to defend himself, he did not interfere. After the attack and defence had lasted a quarter of an hour, the wolf ran off to a neighboring ditch, where he several times plunged into the water.

The farmer imagined that he did this to refresh himself after the fatigue he had sustained, and had no doubt that his mule had gained a complete victory; but in a few minutes the wolf returned to the charge, and, approaching as near as he could to the head of the mule, shook himself, and spouted a quantity of water into the animal's eyes, which caused him immediately to shut them. That moment, the wolf leaped upon him, and killed the poor animal before the farmer could come to his assistance.

In the commencement of the reign of Louis XIV., of France, in the depth of winter, a party of dragoons were attacked, at the foot of the mountains of Jurat, by a multitude of wolves; the dragoons fought bravely, and killed many hundreds of them; but at last, overpowered by numbers, they and their horses were all devoured. A cross is erected on the place of combat, with an inscription in commemoration of it, which is to be seen at this day.

THE FOX.

This animal, which resembles a small dog, is widely distributed over the colder portions of both continents. There are several species, as the red, gray, black, silver, arctic, &c. In all ages and countries, the fox has been remarkable for his cunning, and, from the time of AEsop to the present day, has figured, in allegory and fable, as the personification of artifice and duplicity.

_Fruitless Enterprise._--A fox finding himself hard run by the hounds, at a hunt in Ireland, ran up a stone wall, from which he sprang on the roof of an adjoining cabin, and mounted up to the chimney-top. From that elevated station, he looked all around him, as if reconnoitring the coming enemy. A wily old hound approaching, and having gained the roof, was preparing to seize the fox, when, lo! renard dropped suddenly down the chimney. The dog looked wistfully down the dark opening, but dared not pursue the fugitive.

Meanwhile renard, half enrobed in soot, had fallen into the lap of an old woman, who, surrounded by a number of children, was gravely smoking her pipe, not at all expecting the entrance of this abrupt visitor. "_Emiladh deouil!_" said the affrighted female, as she threw from her the red and black quadruped. Renard grinned, growled, and showed his fangs; and when the huntsmen, who had secured the door, entered, they found him in quiet possession of the kitchen, the old woman and children having retired, in terror of the invader, to an obscure corner of the room. The fox was taken alive without much difficulty.

_Unavailing Artifice._--Two gentlemen in New Jersey went out to hunt rabbits. In a low, bushy swamp, the dogs started a fox, and off they went in swift pursuit. After a chase of two miles, he entered a very dense thicket, and, making a circuit of the place, returned to the point whence he first started. The dogs closely pursuing the fox, he again started for the thicket, when one of the sportsmen shot at him, and he fell apparently dead at his feet. As he stooped to pick him up, however, he rose upon his legs and escaped. For two hours and a half, the thicket was the scene of the wiles of renard; but at last he was taken, and, being carried home by the men, was thrown, apparently quite dead, into the corner of the room.

The family sat down to supper. Finding them all busily engaged, he ventured to reconnoitre, and had cautiously raised himself on his fore legs for the purpose, but, on finding himself observed, resumed his quiescent state. One of the party, to ascertain whether the fox was alive or not, passed a piece of lighted paper under his nose; but the inanimate stone or log appeared not more senseless at that moment. Finding all attempts to get away unavailing, renard submitted to his destiny with a very good grace, and the next morning was as well as ever, bating a slight wound in the shoulder and a dirty skin.

_Unexpected Resentment._--Some country people in Germany once caught a pike, but in conveying it home during the night, it escaped. As it was a large fish, they returned with torches to secure their prize, and after some time found it on the grass, having fast hold of a fox by the nose. The animal caught in this novel trap made every effort to escape, without success; and it was not until the pike was killed, that it was possible to separate them. It seems that, after the pike was dropped by the fisherman, renard came across it, and in paying his addresses to it, was received in the manner we have described.

THE HYENA.

This animal, which is the size of a large dog, belongs to Africa. It is very ferocious, feeds on flesh, and prefers that which is in a state of decay. It seems, with the vulture, to be a scavenger to remove masses of putrid flesh, which, in these hot regions, would otherwise breed infection and disease.

_Miscellaneous Anecdotes._--Bruce, in his "Travels in Africa," gives us the following account of the hyena:--

"One night, being very busily engaged in my tent, I heard something pass behind me towards the bed, but, upon looking round, could perceive nothing. Having finished what I was about, I went out, resolving directly to return, which I did. I now perceived a pair of large blue eyes glaring at me in the dark. I called to my servant to bring a light, and there stood a hyena, near the head of my bed, with two or three large bunches of candles in his mouth. As his mouth was full, I was not afraid of him; so, with my pike, I struck him as near the heart as I could judge. It was not till then that he showed any signs of fierceness; but, feeling his wound, he let the candles drop, and endeavored to climb up the handle of the spear, to arrive at me; so that, in self-defence, I was obliged to draw a pistol from my girdle, and shoot him; nearly at the same time, my servant cleft his skull with a battle-axe.

"The hyena appears to be senseless and stupid during the day. I have locked up with him a goat, a kid, and a lamb, all day, when he was fasting, and found them in the evening alive and unhurt. Repeating the experiment one night, he ate up a young ass, a goat, and a fox, all before morning, so as to leave nothing but some small fragments of the ass's bones."

Sparman furnishes us with the following story:--"One night, at a feast near the Cape, a trumpeter, who had got himself well filled with liquor, was carried out of doors in order to cool and sober him. The scent of him soon attracted a spotted hyena, which threw him on his back, and carried him away to Sable Mountain, thinking him a corpse, and consequently a fair prize.

"In the mean time, our drunken musician awoke, sufficiently sensible to know the danger of his situation, and to sound his alarm with his trumpet, which he carried at his side. The beast, as it may be imagined, was greatly frightened, in its turn, and immediately ran away."

THE LION.

This animal stands at the head of the numerous family of cats, and has often been ranked by naturalists as the lord of the brute creation, and holding the same relation to quadrupeds as the eagle does to birds.

Like all the rest of his genus, the lion steals upon his prey, and, when at a proper distance, rushes upon it with a bound, securing it in his sharp claws. In general he is cowardly; but, in pursuit of his prey, he is, to the last degree, fearless and ferocious. His strength is so great that he can break a man's skull with the stroke of his paw, and can drag the body of a cow over the ground at a gallop. His roar is terrific, and when heard, the animals around seem agitated with the wildest terror. The lion is common in the hot parts of Africa, and is occasionally found in India.

_Miscellaneous Anecdotes._--Some Hottentots once perceived a lion dragging a buffalo from the plain to a neighboring woody hill. They soon forced him to quit his prey, in order to secure it for themselves. They now found that the lion had had the sagacity to take out those inner parts of the buffalo that it rejected as food, in order to make it easier to carry away the fleshy and eatable parts of the carcass, thus showing reflection on his part.

It is probable that the lion does not easily venture upon any one who puts himself in a posture of defence. The following anecdote would seem to show that this is the case. A young man was walking one day on his lands in the southern parts of Africa, when he unexpectedly met a large lion. Being an excellent shot, he thought himself sure of killing him, and therefore fired. But unfortunately, the charge had been in the piece for some time, and the ball fell before it reached the animal. The young man, seized with panic, now took to his heels; but being soon out of breath, and closely pursued by the lion, he jumped upon a little heap of stones, and there made a stand, presenting the butt-end of his gun to his adversary, fully resolved to defend his life as well as he could.

This movement had such an effect upon the lion, that he likewise came to a stand; and what was still more singular, laid himself down at some paces' distance from the stones, seemingly quite unconcerned. The sportsman, in the mean while, did not dare to stir a step from the spot; besides, in his flight, he had lost his powder-horn. At length, after waiting a good half hour, the lion rose up, and retreated slowly, step by step, as if it had a mind to steal off; but as soon as it got to a greater distance, it began to bound away with great rapidity.

It is related that Geoffrey de la Tour, one of the knights that went upon the first crusade to the Holy Land, heard, one day, as he rode through a forest, a cry of distress. Hoping to rescue some unfortunate sufferer, the knight rode boldly into the thicket; but what was his astonishment, when he beheld a large lion, with a serpent coiled round his body! To relieve the distressed was the duty of every knight; therefore, with a single stroke of the sword, and regardless of the consequences to himself, he killed the serpent, and extricated the tremendous animal from his perilous situation.

From that hour the grateful creature constantly accompanied his deliverer, whom he followed like a dog, and never displayed his natural ferocity but at his command. At length, the crusade being terminated, Sir Geoffrey prepared to set sail for Europe. He wished to take the lion with him; but the master of the ship was unwilling to admit him on board, and the knight was, therefore, obliged to leave him on the shore. The lion, when he saw himself separated from his beloved master, first began to roar hideously; then, seeing the ship moving off, he plunged into the waves, and endeavored to swim after it. But all his efforts were in vain; and at length, his strength being exhausted, he sank, and the ocean ingulfed the noble animal, whose unshaken fidelity deserved a better fate.

Some years since there was, in a menagerie at Cassel, in Germany, a large lion, whose keeper was a woman, to whom the animal seemed most affectionately attached. In order to amuse the company, this woman was in the habit of putting her hands, and even her head, into the lion's mouth, without experiencing the least injury. Upon one occasion, however, having introduced her head, as usual, between the animal's jaws, he made a sudden snap, and killed her on the spot.

Undoubtedly, this catastrophe was unintentional on the part of the lion; probably the hair of the woman's head irritated his throat, so as to make him sneeze or cough. This supposition is confirmed by the subsequent conduct of the animal; for as soon as he perceived that he had killed his attendant, the good-tempered, grateful creature exhibited the signs of the deepest melancholy, laid himself down by the side of the dead body, which he would not suffer to be removed, refused to take any food, and, in a few days, pined himself to death.

A remarkable instance of docility in a lion once took place in the menagerie at Chester, in England. A strange keeper, having fed a magnificent lion one evening, neglected to fasten the door of the den. The watchman, when going his rounds about three the next morning, discovered the king of beasts deliberately walking about the yard, and surveying the objects with apparent curiosity. The watchman went to call the proprietors, and when they arrived they found the lion _couchant_ upon the top of one of the coaches in the yard. With very little entreaty, the monarch of the forest deigned to descend from his throne, and very graciously followed a young lady, the proprietor's daughter, back to his den.

Some time ago, for the purpose of seeing the manner in which the lion pounces upon his prey, a little dog was, most cruelly, thrown into the den of one of these animals in the Tower Menagerie. The poor little animal skulked, in terror, to the most remote corner of the lion's apartment, who, regarding him with complacency, refrained from approaching him. The little trembler, seeing the lion's mildness, ventured to draw near him; and soon becoming familiar, they lived together thenceforward in the most perfect harmony; and, although the little dog had sometimes the temerity to dispute his share of food with the king of the beasts, yet he magnanimously allowed him to satisfy his appetite before he thought of making a meal himself.

A lioness in the Tower of London once formed such an attachment for a little dog which was kept with her in the den, that she would not eat till the dog was first satisfied. After the lioness had become a mother, it was thought advisable to take the animal away, for fear that her jealous fondness for her whelps might lead her to injure it. But while the keeper was cleaning the den, the dog, by some means, got into it, and approached the lioness with his wonted fondness. She was playing with her cubs; and, seeing the dog approach, she sprang towards him, and, seizing the poor little animal by the throat, seemed in the act of tearing him to pieces; but as if she momentarily recollected her former fondness for him, she carried him to the door of the den, and suffered him to be taken out unhurt.

To the traveller in Africa, the lion is formidable not at night only; he lies in his path, and is with difficulty disturbed, to allow a passage for his wagons and cattle, even when the sun is shining with its utmost brilliancy; or he is roused from some bushy place, on the roadside, by the indefatigable dogs which always accompany a caravan. Mr. Burchell has described, with great spirit, an encounter of this nature:--

"The day was exceedingly pleasant, and not a cloud was to be seen. For a mile or two we travelled along the banks of the river, which in this part abounded in tall mat-rushes. The dogs seemed much to enjoy prowling about, and examining every bushy place, and at last met with some object among the rushes which caused them to set up a most vehement and determined barking. We explored the spot with caution, as we suspected, from the peculiar tone of their bark, that it was, what it proved to be, lions. Having encouraged the dogs to drive them out, a task which they performed with great willingness, we had a full view of an enormous black-maned lion and lioness. The latter was seen only for a minute, as she made her escape up the river, under concealment of the rushes; but _the lion_ came steadily forward, and stood still to look at us. At this moment we felt our situation not free from danger, as the animal seemed preparing to spring upon us, and we were standing on the bank at the distance of only a few yards from him, most of us being on foot and unarmed, without any visible possibility of escaping.

"I had given up my horse to the hunters, and was on foot myself; but there was no time for fear, and it was useless to attempt avoiding him. I stood well upon my guard, holding my pistols in my hand, with my finger upon the trigger; and those who had muskets kept themselves prepared in the same manner. But at this instant the dogs boldly flew in between us and the lion, and, surrounding him, kept him at bay by their violent and resolute barking. The courage of these faithful animals was most admirable; they advanced up to the side of the huge beast, and stood making the greatest clamor in his face, without the least appearance of fear. The lion, conscious of his strength, remained unmoved at their noisy attempts, and kept his head turned towards us. At one moment, the dogs, perceiving his eyes thus engaged, had advanced close to his feet, and seemed as if they would actually seize hold of him; but they paid dearly for their imprudence; for, without discomposing the majestic and steady attitude in which he stood fixed, he merely moved his paw, and at the next instant I beheld two lying dead. In doing this, he made so little exertion, that it was scarcely perceptible by what means they had been killed. Of the time which we had gained by the interference of the dogs, not a moment was lost. We fired upon him; one of the balls went through his side just between the short ribs, and the blood immediately began to flow; but the animal still remained standing in the same position. We had now no doubt that he would spring upon us; every gun was instantly reloaded; but happily we were mistaken, and were not sorry to see him move quietly away; though I had hoped in a few minutes to have been enabled to take hold of his paw without danger.

"This was considered, by our party, to be a lion of the largest size, and seemed, as I measured him by comparison with the dogs, to be, though less bulky, as heavy as an ox. He was certainly as long in body, though lower in stature; and his copious mane gave him a truly formidable appearance. He was of that variety which the Hottentots and boors distinguish by the name of the _black lion_, on account of the blacker color of the mane, and which is said to be always larger and more dangerous than the other, which they call the _pale lion_. Of the courage of a lion I have no very high opinion; but of his majestic air and movements, as exhibited by this animal, while at liberty in his native plains, I can bear testimony. Notwithstanding the pain of a wound, of which he must soon afterwards have died, he moved slowly away, with a stately and measured step."

THE TIGER.

This animal, of which there is but one species, is found in the southern parts of Asia, and the adjacent islands. It is inferior only to the lion in strength, size, and courage. The body is long, the legs rather short, the eyes glassy, and the countenance haggard, savage, and ferocious. It has strength to seize a man and carry him off at full gallop, and its ferocity leads it to slay beyond its desire for food. In contrast to these hideous qualities, its skin is marked with a singular beauty, being of a fawn color, splendidly striped downward with black bands. Its step resembles that of a cat. When taken young, and kindly treated, it grows familiar, and exhibits gentleness and affection towards its keeper.

_Miscellaneous Anecdotes._--Of the muscular powers of the tiger we have the following illustration: A buffalo, belonging to a peasant in the East Indies, having fallen into a quagmire, the man was himself unable to extricate it, and went to call the assistance of his neighbors. Meanwhile, a large tiger, coming to the spot, seized upon the buffalo, and dragged him out. When the men came to the place, they saw the tiger, with the buffalo thrown over his shoulder, in the act of retiring with him towards the jungle. No sooner, however, did he observe the men, than he let fall the dead animal, and precipitately escaped. On coming up, they found the buffalo quite dead, and his whole blood sucked out. Some idea may be gained of the immense power of the tiger, when it is mentioned that the ordinary weight of a buffalo is above a thousand pounds, and consequently considerably more than double its own weight.

The effect of feeding the tiger upon raw flesh, is shown by the following anecdote: A party of gentlemen, from Bombay, found, one day, in a cavern, a tiger's whelp, which was hidden in an obscure corner. Snatching it up hastily, they cautiously retreated. Being left entirely at liberty, and well fed, the tiger became tame, like the dog, grew rapidly, and appeared entirely domesticated. At length it attained a great size, and began to inspire terror by its tremendous strength and power, notwithstanding its gentleness. Up to this moment, it had been studiously kept from raw meat. But, unfortunately, during its rambles, a piece of flesh dripping with blood fell in its way. The instant it had tasted it, something like madness seemed to seize the animal; a destructive principle, hitherto dormant, was kindled: it darted fiercely, and with glowing eyes, upon its prey--tore it with fury to pieces, and, growling and roaring in the most frightful manner, rushed off, and disappeared in the jungle.

Tigers are sometimes very cunning. One of them was kept at a French factory, at Silsceri, which was secured by a strong chain. This animal used to scatter a portion of the rice that was set before him as far round the front of his den as possible. This enticed the poultry to come and pick it up. The tiger pretended to be asleep, in order to induce them to approach nearer, when he suddenly sprang upon them, and seldom failed to make several of them his prey.

This animal is susceptible of strong attachments. An instance of this is recorded of a tigress of great beauty in the Tower at London. She was extremely docile in her passage home from Calcutta, was allowed to run about the vessel, and became exceedingly familiar with the sailors. On her arrival in London, however, her temper became irascible, and even dangerous, and she exhibited for some days a savage and sulky disposition.

Shortly after, a sailor, who had had charge of her on board the ship, came to the Tower, and begged permission to enter her den. No sooner did she recognize her old friend, than she fawned upon him, licked and caressed him, exhibiting the most extravagant signs of pleasure; and, when he left her, she whined and cried the whole day afterwards. In time, however, she became reconciled to her new keeper and residence.

Some years ago, a tame tiger was led about Madras by some of the natives, without any other restraint than a muzzle, and a small chain round his neck. The men lived by exhibiting, to the curious, the tiger's method of seizing his prey. The manner in which they showed this, was by fastening a sheep to a stake driven into the earth. The tiger was no sooner brought in sight of it than he crouched, and moved along the ground on his belly, slowly and cautiously, till he came within the limits of a bound, when he sprang upon the sheep with the rapidity of an arrow, and struck it dead in an instant.

Although the tigress sometimes destroys her young ones, she generally shows much anxiety for them. Two cubs were once discovered by some villagers, in India, while their mother was in quest of prey, and presented by them to a gentleman, who had them put in his stable. The creatures made piteous howlings every night, which at last reached the ears of the mother. She came to the spot, and answered their cries by hideous howlings, which so alarmed their keeper that he let the cubs loose, for fear the dam would break the door of the stable. Nothing was seen of them the next morning; the tigress had carried them both off into the jungle.

The tiger is often hunted in India, and frequently the sportsmen are mounted upon elephants. Sometimes the animal is shot, and occasionally he is trodden to death, or laid prostrate on the earth, by the tramp of the elephant. Numerous anecdotes are told of these rencounters, all tending to show the fierce and formidable character of the tiger. It is much more active and ferocious than the lion, and is also more dangerous to the inhabitants who live in the vicinity of its retreats.

THE PANTHER.

This animal, which is a native of Northern Africa, is smaller than the tiger, but it possesses the same ferocious disposition. It preys upon every animal it can master, and man himself sometimes falls a victim to its rapacity. Its color is fawn, spotted with black.