Chapter III: The Varieties of the Dog (2)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A person of the name of Chabert, who was afterwards better known by the title of "Fire King," had a beautiful Siberian dog, who would draw him in a light carriage 20 miles a day. He asked £200 for him, and sold him for a considerable portion of that sum; for he was a most beautiful animal of his kind, and as docile as he was beautiful. Between the sale and the delivery, the dog fell and broke his leg. Chabert, to whom the price agreed on was of immense consequence, was in despair. He took the dog at night to a veterinary surgeon. He formally introduced them to each other. He talked to the dog, pointed to his leg, limped around the room, then requested the surgeon to apply some bandages around the leg, and he seemed to walk sound and well. He patted the dog on the head, who was looking alternately at him and the surgeon, desired the surgeon to pat him, and to offer him his hand to lick, and then, holding up his finger to the dog, and gently shaking his head, quitted the room and the house. The dog immediately laid himself down, and submitted to a reduction of the fracture, and the bandaging of the limb, without a motion, except once or twice licking the hand of the operator. He was quite submissive, and in a manner motionless, day after day, until, at the expiration of a month, the limb was sound. Not a trace of the fracture was to be detected, and the purchaser, who is now living, knew nothing about it.

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

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

THE LAPLAND DOG.

Captain Clarke thus describes the Lapland dog:

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

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

THE SHEEP-DOG.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

THE DROVER'S DOG

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

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

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

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

THE ITALIAN OR POMERANIAN WOLF-DOG.

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

THE CUR

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

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

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

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

The following story is strictly authentic:

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

THE LURCHER.

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

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

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

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

THE BEAGLE.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

THE HARRIER

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

Almost every country squire used in former days to keep his little pack of harriers or beagles. He was mounted on his stout cob-horse, that served him alike for the road and the chase; and his huntsman probably had a still smaller and rougher beast, or sometimes ran afoot. He could then follow the sport, almost without going off his own land, and the farmer's boys, knowing the country and the usual doublings of the hare, could see the greater part of the chase, and were almost able to keep up with the hounds, so that they were rarely absent at the death: indeed, they saw and enjoyed far more of it than the fox-hunter or the stag-hunter now does, mounted on his fleetest horse.

The harrier was not more than 18 or 19 inches high. He was crossed with the fox-hound if he was getting too diminutive, or with the beagle if he was becoming too tall.

The principal objects the sportsman endeavoured to accomplish were to preserve stoutness, scent, and musical voice, with speed to follow the hare sufficiently close, yet not enough to run her down too quickly, or without some of those perplexities, and faults, and uncertainties which give the principal zest to the chase.

The character and speed of the hound much depend on the nature of the country. The smaller harrier will best suit a deeply enclosed country; but where there is little cover, and less doubling greater size and fleetness are requisite. The harrier, nevertheless, let him be as tall and as speedy as he may, should never he used for the fox; but every dog should be strictly confined to his own game.

Mr. Beckford, in his 'Thoughts upon Hunting', gives an account, unrivalled, of the chase of the hare and fox. Many sporting writers have endeavoured to tread in his steps; but they have failed in giving that graphic account of the pleasures of the field which Mr. Beckford's essay contains.

He says that the sportsman should never have more than 20 couple in the field, because it would he exceedingly difficult to get a greater number to run together, and a pack of harriers cannot be complete if they do not. A hound that runs too fast for the rest, or that lags behind them, should be immediately discarded. His hounds were between the large slow-hunting harrier and the fox-beagle. He endeavoured to get as much bone and strength in as little compass as possible. He acknowledges that this was a difficult undertaking; but he had, at last, the pleasure to see them handsome, small, yet bony, running well together, and fast enough, with all the alacrity that could be desired, and hunting the coldest scent.

He anticipates the present improvement of the chase when he lays it down as a rule never to be departed from, that hounds of every kind should be kept to their own game. They should have one scent, and one style of hunting. Harriers will run a fox in so different a style from the pursuit of a hare, that they will not readily, and often will not at all, return to their proper work. The difference in the scent, and the eagerness of pursuit, and the noise that accompanies fox-hunting, all contribute to spoil a harrier.

Mr. Beckford pleasingly expresses a sportsman's consideration for the poor animal which he is hunting to death.