Natural History in Anecdote Part 9

One of the most marked characteristics of the Newfoundland dog is his generosity to a fallen foe. His temper is said to be uncertain, though this has been questioned by some who have had large experience of him under varying circ.u.mstances. Be this as it may, there are many stories told to his honour of his generosity to his enemies in the moment of victory. A Newfoundland dog, who had for some time treated with becoming dignity the impudence of some mongrels who were amusing themselves by snapping and snarling at his heels, suddenly turned and sent the crowd of persecutors flying in all directions, except the ringleader, who fell sprawling in the middle of the street, where he was about to receive the punishment he deserved when a cable car came dashing down the hill, right upon the dogs. The big dog saw the danger at once and sprang aside, but his enemy remained upon his back, too terrified to notice anything. The Newfoundland took in the situation, in a moment sprang back in front of the car, seized the cur in his teeth, and s.n.a.t.c.hed him, still whining and begging for mercy, out of the very jaws of death.

Laying him in the gutter, he gave a good-natured wag or two of his tail and went his way. Another Newfoundland much bothered by a small cur who was for ever barking at his heels, but who treated his a.s.sailant with sublime indifference, was on one occasion aroused to adopt drastic measures by receiving a bite on his leg. Seizing the cur by the loose skin of his back he carried him down to the quay of Cork and after letting him dangle over the water for a little while, dropped him into it. After watching the animal struggle with the water until nearly exhausted, the Newfoundland plunged in and rescued him. Mr. Jesse gives a fine ill.u.s.tration of this canine chivalry, witnessed at Donaghadee.

"The one dog in this case was also a Newfoundland, and the other was a mastiff. They were both powerful dogs; and though each was good-natured when alone, they were very much in the habit of fighting when they met.

One day they had a fierce and prolonged battle on the pier, from the point of which they both fell into the sea; and as the pier was long and steep, they had no means of escape but by swimming a considerable distance. Throwing water upon fighting dogs is an approved means of putting an end to their hostilities; and it is natural to suppose that two combatants of the same species tumbling themselves into the sea would have the same effect. It had; and each began to make for the land as best he could. The Newfoundland being an excellent swimmer, very speedily gained the pier, on which he stood shaking himself; but at the same time watching the motions of his late antagonist, which, being no swimmer, was struggling exhausted in the water, and just about to sink.

In dashed the Newfoundland dog, took the other gently by the collar, kept his head above water, and brought him safely on sh.o.r.e. There was a peculiar kind of recognition between the two animals; they never fought again; they were always together: and when the Newfoundland dog had been accidentally killed by the pa.s.sage of a stone waggon on the railway over him, the other languished and evidently lamented for a long time."

The Newfoundland's Perception of Danger.

The quickness with which the Newfoundland will realise the danger of a situation and the prompt.i.tude with which he will devise a remedy, make him in some cases a more valuable friend in need than a man could be.

Human aid would have probably been too slow in the following case related by Mr. Jesse. "In the city of Worchester, one of the princ.i.p.al streets leads by a gentle declivity to the river Severn. One day a child, in crossing the street, fell down in the middle of it and a horse and cart, which was descending the hill, would have pa.s.sed over it, had not a Newfoundland dog rushed to the rescue of the child, caught it up in his mouth, and conveyed it in safety to the foot pavement."

The prompt.i.tude with which he will leap into the water to save the drowning, without waiting for any word of command, is another ill.u.s.tration of this faculty. Another case related by Mr. Jesse may be quoted. "In the year 1841, as a labourer, named Rake, in the parish of Botley, near Southampton, was at work in a gravel-pit, the top stratum gave way, and he was buried up to his neck by the great quant.i.ty of gravel which fell upon him. He was at the same time so much hurt, two of his ribs being broken, that he found it impossible to make any attempt to extricate himself from his perilous situation. Indeed, nothing could be more fearful than the prospect before him. No one was within hearing of his cries, nor was any one likely to come near the spot. He must almost inevitably have perished, had it not been for a Newfoundland dog belonging to his employer. This animal had been watching the man at his work for some days, as if he had been aware that his a.s.sistance would be required; for no particular attachment to each other had been exhibited on either side. As soon, however, as the accident occurred, the dog jumped into the pit, and commenced removing the gravel with his paws; and this he did in so vigorous and expeditious a manner, that the poor man was at length able to liberate himself, though with extreme difficulty. What an example of kindness, sensibility, and I may add reason, does this instance afford us!"

Mr. Youatt gives a remarkable ill.u.s.tration, also quoted by Mr. Jesse, of a Newfoundland's apparent perception of danger of quite another sort.

Finding it inconvenient to keep this animal Mr. Youatt had given it to a friend, and four years pa.s.sed before the dog saw his late owner again, when they met quite by chance, the two masters and the dog, on a lonely road between Wandsworth and Kingston. The dog showed every sign of pleasure at meeting his old master, but when they parted faithfully followed the new. Mr. Youatt had not proceeded far, however, when he discovered that the dog had rejoined him and was walking at his side, growling and showing every sign of anger. Looking ahead he discovered two men approaching him stealthily from behind the bushes that skirted the road. "I can scarcely say," says Mr. Youatt, "what I felt; for presently one of the scoundrels emerged from the bushes, not twenty yards from me; but he no sooner saw my companion, and heard his growling, the loudness and depth of which were fearfully increasing, than he retreated, and I saw no more of him or of his a.s.sociate. My gallant defender accompanied me to the direction-post at the bottom of the hill, and there, with many a mutual and honest greeting, we parted, and he bounded away to overtake his rightful owner. We never met again; but I need not say that I often thought of him with admiration and grat.i.tude."

The Newfoundland's Sense of Right and Wrong.

A number of well authenticated stories, seem to indicate a certain sense of right and wrong as characteristic of the more intelligent dogs; of course the idea of right and wrong being in the case of animals as in the case of men, largely a matter of education. The Newfoundland dog belonging to the Rev. J. Simpson of Potterow Church, Edinburgh, already referred to, on one occasion detained a party of friends which had been entertained by the servants during their master's absence at church, by stationing himself in front of the hall door and preventing their egress until the rev. gentleman's return. Another Newfoundland dog who belonged to a grocer, and who had seen a porter hide money behind a heap of rubbish in a stable,--money which he had surrept.i.tiously abstracted from the till,--followed an apprentice into the stable on the first opportunity, and scratching away the rubbish exposed the money to view, thus leading to the detection of the thief. It is of course easy to claim too much for actions apparently so intelligent and in estimating them coincidence has to be allowed for; but they are far too numerous to be ignored in estimating canine character. An instance is recorded of a quiet docile dog who refused to allow a visitor to leave a stable, when it was discovered that the man had secreted a bridle in his pocket.

The Newfoundland's Fidelity.

Many ill.u.s.trations might be given of the fidelity which the Newfoundland shows in common with other dogs, but one or two must suffice. A story is told of a dog who picked up a coin which his master had dropped from his purse, and which he kept in his mouth all day, refusing food until his master's return in the evening, when he laid it at his feet, and then attacked his dinner voraciously; another of a dog who on being sent home by his master with a key which he had inadvertently taken with him, was attacked by a dog belonging to a butcher, but who declined the combat until he had delivered the key, but immediately returned and attacking the butcher's dog killed him. In the first case the dog suffered the natural pangs of hunger rather than hazard his master's property, and in the second he postponed the gratification of his natural feeling of revenge until after the execution of his duty.

The Newfoundland under Training.

The tricks to which dogs can be trained, though often amusing enough, have not the interest which attaches to the natural display of their faculties, and yet of course there is plenty of scope for the trained dog to supplement his culture by the exercise of his natural gifts, and this he often does. Perhaps one of the most remarkable of trained Newfoundland dogs, was the one possessed by Mr. McIntyre of Regent Bridge, Edinburgh. This dog was trained to perform all kinds of tricks.

He would pick his master's hat out from a number of others of the same kind, or indeed almost any article of his master's from a group of similar articles. He would ring the bell to summon the servants, and if there was no bell rope in the room, find and use the hand bell with equal facility. A comb was hidden on the top of a mantel-piece in the room, and the dog required to bring it, which he almost immediately did, although in the search he found a number of articles also belonging to his master, purposely strewed around, all of which he pa.s.sed over, and brought the identical comb which he was required to find, fully proving that he was not guided by the sense of smell, but that he perfectly understood what was spoken to him. One evening some gentlemen being in company, one of them accidentally dropped a shilling on the floor, which, after the most careful search, could not be found. Mr. M. seeing his dog sitting in a corner, and looking as if quite unconscious of what was pa.s.sing, said to him, "Dandie, find us the shilling and you shall have a biscuit." The dog immediately jumped upon the table and laid down the shilling, which he had previously picked up without having been perceived. Mr. M. having one evening supped with a friend, on his return home could not find his boot-jack in the place where it usually lay. He then said to his dog, "Dandie, I cannot find my boot-jack,--search for it." The faithful animal, quite sensible of what had been said to him, scratched at the room-door, which his master opened. Dandie proceeded to a very distant part of the house, and returned carrying in his mouth the boot-jack, which Mr. M. then recollected to have left that morning under a sofa. A number of gentlemen, well acquainted with Dandie, were daily in the habit of giving him a penny which he took to a baker's shop and purchased bread for himself. One of these gentlemen, who lived in James'

Square, when pa.s.sing was accosted by Dandie, in expectation of his usual present. Mr. T. said to him, "I have not a penny with me to-day, but I have one at home." Having returned to his house some time after, he heard a noise at the door, which was opened by the servant, when in sprang Dandie to receive his penny. In a frolic Mr. T. gave him a bad one, which he, as usual, carried to the baker, who refused to take the bad coin. He immediately returned to Mr. T.'s, scratched at the door, and when the servant opened it, laid the penny down at her feet, and walked off, seemingly with the greatest contempt. Although Dandie, in general, made an immediate purchase of bread with the money which he received, the following circ.u.mstance clearly demonstrates that he possessed more prudent foresight than many who are reckoned rational beings. One Sunday, when it was very unlikely that he could have received a present of money, Dandie was observed to bring home a loaf.

Mr. M. being somewhat surprised at this, desired the servant to search the room to see if any money could be found. While she was engaged in this task, the dog seemed quite unconcerned till she approached the bed, when he ran to her, and gently drew her back from it. Mr. M. then secured the dog, which kept struggling and growling while the servant went under the bed, where she found seven pence halfpenny under a bit of cloth. From that time he never could endure the girl, and was frequently observed to hide his money in a corner of a saw-pit, under the dust.

When Mr. M. had company, if he desired the dog to see any one of the gentlemen home, he would walk with him till he reached his home, and then return to his master, how great soever the distance might be. Many other stories are told about Dandie but these must suffice. Of their authenticity there seems little doubt; they were recorded by Captain Brown during the lifetime of Dandie and his master.

The Sheep Dog.

The shepherd dog (_Canis domesticus_) rivals if not surpa.s.ses most other dogs in intelligence, though his intelligence is less general and more particular than that of other dogs, _i.e._, more special to his own profession and probably more due to training and culture. The principle of heredity operates conspicuously in the case of dogs, and shepherding being one of the oldest occupations of man, the shepherd's dog has probably been under culture for a longer period than any other,--hence his proficiency in his work. Buffon credited him with being "the parent stock of the whole species", and Colonel Smith with civilisation at a very early period. "The sheep dog," says Colonel Smith, "is seldom two feet high, but his make is muscular; the nose rather pointed; the ears erect; and the colour of the hair black and fulvous; the fur is rather long and rough. In great Britain, and more particularly in Scotland, the colours are more mixed with shades of brown, and the ears are often drooping at the tips. The sheep dog is not to be confused with the drover or cattle dog, which is larger and still more rugged in coat, as well as manners.

The Sheep Dog's Sagacity.

The sheep dog is credited with so many stories of skill and sagacity, that those unacquainted with his habits and achievements can scarcely believe the record. He has been known to rival the St. Bernard in tracking both men and sheep who have become buried in the snow, the mastiff in defending his master's property and the Newfoundland in procuring a.s.sistance he was unable to render himself. But it is in the pursuit of his special duties that he displays the most remarkable powers; and many ill.u.s.trations might be given of his extraordinary skill and fidelity. Happily for him he found in the Ettrick Shepherd an historian as well acquainted with his prowess as he was able to record its exercise; from whose writings we are able to quote several remarkable ill.u.s.trations.

"My dog Sirrah," says he, "was, beyond all comparison, the best dog I ever saw: he was of a surly and unsocial temper,--disdaining all flattery, he refused to be caressed; but his attention to my commands and interests will never again, perhaps, be equalled by any of the canine race. Well as I knew him, he often astonished me; for, when hard pressed in accomplishing the task that he was put to, he had expedients of the moment that bespoke a great share of the reasoning faculty.

"About seven hundred lambs, which were once under my care at weaning time, broke up at midnight, and scampered off in three divisions across the hills, in spite of all that I and an a.s.sistant lad could do to keep them together. 'Sirrah, my man!' said I, in great affliction, 'they are awa'.' The night was so dark that I could not see Sirrah, but the faithful animal heard my words--words such as of all others were sure to set him most on the alert; and without much ado he silently set off in search of the recreant flock. Meanwhile I and my companion did not fail to do all in our power to recover our lost charge. We spent the whole night in scouring the hills for miles around, but of neither the lambs nor Sirrah could we obtain the slightest trace. It was the most extraordinary circ.u.mstance that had occurred in my pastoral life. We had nothing for it (day having dawned), but to return to our master, and inform him that we had lost his whole flock of lambs, and knew not what had become of them. On our way home, however, we discovered a body of lambs at the bottom of a deep ravine, called the Flesh Cleuch, and the indefatigable Sirrah standing in front of them, looking all around for some relief, but still standing true to his charge. The sun was then up; and when we first came in view of them, 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 by degrees that not one lamb of the whole flock was wanting!

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 of the sun; and if all the shepherds in the forest had been there to have a.s.sisted him, they could not have effected it with greater propriety. All that I can farther say is, that I never felt so grateful to any creature below the sun, as I did to my honest Sirrah that morning."

The Sheep-dog's Fidelity.

"The late Mr. Steel, flesher in Peebles," says James Hogg, "had a b.i.t.c.h whose feats in taking sheep from the neighbouring farms into the Flesh-market at Peebles, form innumerable anecdotes in that vicinity, all similar to one another. But there is one instance related of her, that combines so much sagacity with natural affection, that I do not think the history of the animal creation furnishes such another. Mr.

Steel had such an implicit dependence on the attention of this animal to his orders, that, whenever he put a lot of sheep before her, he took a pride in leaving them to herself, and either remained to take a gla.s.s with the farmer of whom he had made the purchase, or took another road to look after bargains or other business. But one time he chanced to commit a drove to her charge at a place called Willenslee, without attending to her condition as he ought to have done. This farm is five miles from Peebles, over wild hills, and there is no regularly defined path to it. Whether Mr. Steel remained behind, or chose another road, I know not; but, on coming home late in the evening, he was astonished at hearing that his faithful animal had not made her appearance with the flock. He and his son, or servant, instantly prepared to set out by different paths in search of her; but, on their going out to the street, there was she coming with the drove, not one missing; and marvellous to relate, she 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 drove in her state of suffering is beyond human calculation, for her road lay through sheep 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 full speed to the hills, and brought another and another, till she removed her whole litter one by one; but the last one was dead. The stories related of the dogs of sheep-stealers, he continues, are fairly beyond all credibility. I cannot attach credit to some of them without believing the animals to have been devils incarnate, come to the earth for the destruction both of the souls and bodies of men. I cannot mention names, for the sake of families that still remain in the country; but there have been sundry men executed, who belonged to this district of the kingdom, for that heinous crime, in my own days; and others have absconded, just in time to save their necks. There was not one of these to whom I allude who did not acknowledge his dog to be the greatest aggressor. One young man in particular, who was, I believe, overtaken by justice for his first offence, stated, that after he had folded the sheep by moonlight, and selected his number from the flock of a former master, he took them out, and set away with them towards Edinburgh. But before he had got them quite off the farm, his conscience smote him, as he said (but more likely a dread of that which soon followed), and he quitted the sheep, letting them go again to the hill.

He called his dog off them; and mounting his pony, he rode away. At that time he said his dog was capering and playing around him, as if glad of having got free of a troublesome business; and he regarded him no more, till, after having rode about three miles, he thought again and again that he heard something coming up behind him. Halting, at length, to ascertain what it was, in a few minutes up came his dog with the stolen animals, driving them at a furious rate to keep up with his master. The sheep were all smoking, and hanging out their tongues, and their guide was fully as warm as they. The young man was now exceedingly troubled, for the sheep having been brought so far from home, he dreaded there would be a pursuit, and he could not get them home again before day.

Resolving, at all events, to keep his hands clear of them, he corrected his dog in great wrath, left the sheep once more, and taking colley with him, rode off a second time. He had not ridden above a mile, till he perceived that his a.s.sistant had again given him the slip; and suspecting for what purpose, he was terribly alarmed as well as chagrined; for daylight now approached, and he durst not make a noise calling on his dog, for fear of alarming the neighbourhood, in a place where they were both well known. He resolved therefore to abandon the animal to himself, and take a road across the country which he was sure the other did not know, and could not follow. He took that road; but being on horseback, he could not get across the enclosed fields. He at length came to a gate, which he shut behind him, and went about half a mile farther, by a zigzag course, to a farm-house where both his sister and sweetheart lived; and at that place he remained until after breakfast time. The people of this house were all examined on the trial, and no one had either seen the sheep or heard them mentioned, save one man, who came up to the aggressor as he was standing at the stable-door, and told him that his dog had the sheep safe enough down at the Crooked Yett, and he needed not hurry himself. He answered, that the sheep were not his--they were young Mr. Thomson's, who had left them to his charge, and he was in search of a man to drive them, which made him come off his road." The fidelity of this animal cost his master his life.

The St. Bernard Dog.

The St. Bernard Dog always honoured for his work's sake, resembles the Newfoundland in form, hair, colour, and size. "There is another race,"

says Colonel Smith, "trained to the same service, with close short hair, and more or less marked with grey, liver colour and black clouds." Ba.s.s, a famous St. Bernard, the property of Sir Thomas d.i.c.k Lauder, is thus described by him in a letter to Mr. W. H. Lizars printed in Vol. XIX of "The Naturalist's Library":--"My St. Bernard was brought home direct from the Great St. Bernard, when he was a puppy of about four or five months. His bark is tremendous; so loud, indeed, that I have often distinguished it nearly a mile off. He had been missing for some time, when, to my great joy, one of the letter-carriers brought him back; and the man's account was, that in going along a certain street, he heard his bark from the inside of a yard, and knew it immediately. He knocked at the gate, and said to the owner of the premises, 'You have got Sir Thomas Lauder's big dog.' The man denied it. 'But I know you have,'

continued the letter-carrier; 'I can swear that I heard the bark of Sir Thomas's big dog; for there is no dog in or about all Edinburgh that has such a bark.' At last, with great reluctance, the man gave up the dog to the letter-carrier, who brought him home here. But though Ba.s.s's bark is so terrific, he is the best-natured and most playful dog I ever saw; so much so, indeed, that the small King Charles's spaniel, Raith, used to tyrannize over him for many months after he came here from abroad. I have seen the little creature run furiously at the great animal when gnawing a bone, who instantly turned himself submissively over on his back, with all his legs in the air, whilst Raith, seizing the bone, would make the most absurd and unavailing attempts to bestride the enormous head of his subdued companion, with the most ludicrous affectation of the terrible growling, that might bespeak the loftiest description of dog-indignation. When a dog attacks Ba.s.s in the street or road, he runs away rather than quarrel; but when compelled to fight by any perseverance in the attacking party, he throws his enemy down in a moment, and then, without biting him, he lays his whole immense bulk down upon him, till he nearly smothers him. He took a particular fancy for one of the postmen who deliver letters here, whose duty it was, besides delivering letters, to carry a letter bag from one receiving-house to another, and this bag he used to give Ba.s.s to carry.

Ba.s.s always followed that man through all the villas in this neighbourhood where he had deliveries to make, and he invariably parted with him opposite to the gate of the Convent of St. Margaret's, and returned home. When our gate was shut here to prevent his following the postman, the dog always leaped a high wall to get after him. One day when the postman was ill, or detained by some accidental circ.u.mstance, he sent a man in his place. Ba.s.s went up to the man, curiously scanning his face, whilst the man rather retired from the dog, by no means liking his appearance. But as the man left the place, Ba.s.s followed him, showing strong symptoms that he was determined to have the post-bag. The man did all he could to keep possession of it. But at length Ba.s.s seeing that he had no chance of getting possession of the bag by civil entreaty, raised himself up on his hind-legs, and putting a great forepaw on each of the man's shoulders, he laid him flat on his back in the road, and quietly picking up the bag, he proceeded peaceably on his wonted way. The man, much dismayed, arose and followed the dog, making every now and then an ineffectual attempt to coax him to give up the bag. At the first house he came to, he told his fears, and the dilemma he was in; but the people comforted him, by telling him that the dog always carried the bag. Ba.s.s walked with the man to all the houses at which he delivered letters, and along the road till he came to the gate of St. Margaret's, where he dropped the bag and returned home."

The St. Bernard at Work.

"The convent of the Great St. Bernard is situated near the top of the mountain known by that name, near one of the most dangerous pa.s.sages of the Alps, between Switzerland and Savoy. In these regions the traveller is often overtaken by the most severe weather, even after days of cloudless beauty, when the glaciers glitter in the sunshine, and the pink flowers of the rhododendron appear as if they were never to be sullied by the tempest. But a storm suddenly comes on; the roads are rendered impa.s.sable by drifts of snow; the avalanches, which are huge loosened ma.s.ses of snow or ice, are swept into the valleys, carrying trees and crags of rock before them. Benumbed with cold, weary in the search for a lost track, his senses yielding to the stupifying influence of frost which betrays the exhausted sufferer into a deep sleep, the unhappy man sinks upon the ground, and the snow-drift covers him from human sight. It is then that the keen scent and the exquisite docility of these admirable dogs are called into action. Though the perishing man lie ten or even twelve feet beneath the snow, the delicacy of smell with which they can trace him offers a chance of escape. They scratch away the snow with their feet; they set up a continued hoa.r.s.e and solemn bark, which brings the monks and labourers of the convent to their a.s.sistance. To provide for the chance that the dogs, without human help, may succeed in discovering the unfortunate traveller, one of them has a flask of spirits round his neck, to which the fainting man may apply for support; and another has a cloak to cover him. These wonderful exertions are often successful; and even where they fail of restoring him who has perished, the dogs discover the body, so that it may be secured for the recognition of friends; and such is the effect of the temperature, that the dead features generally preserve their firmness for the s.p.a.ce of two years." One of these dogs is said to have saved as many as forty lives and finally to have fallen a victim to an avalanche.

The Greyhound.

The Greyhound is characterised by elegance of form and grace of movement; he has also great powers of speed and endurance, is mild and affectionate in disposition and sagacious in matters other than those connected with the chase. "The narrow, sharp head, the light half hanging ears, the long neck, the arched back, the slender yet sinewy limbs, the deep chest, showing the high development of the breathing organs, and the elevated hind quarters, says Mrs. Bowdich, all shadow forth the peculiar qualities of these dogs. Their coat has been adapted to the climate in which they originally lived: here it is smooth; but becomes more s.h.a.ggy as they are from colder regions." "The Scotch Greyhound (_Canis Scoticus_)," she continues, "generally white, with black clouds, is said to be the most intellectual of all, and formerly to have had so good a scent as to be employed as a bloodhound. Maida, whose name is immortalized as the favourite of Sir Walter Scott, was a Scottish greyhound. The Irish is the largest of all the western breeds, and is supposed to owe this distinction to mingling with the great Danish dog. To it Ireland owes the extirpation of wolves, though it now scarcely exists itself but in name."

The greyhound is now princ.i.p.ally bred for sporting purposes, coursing being the favourite amus.e.m.e.nt. The great speed and endurance of the dog is shown in this pastime. Mr. Jesse records several instances of dogs who have died from exhaustion rather than give up the chase, in one of which it is stated that two dogs and a hare were found dead within a few yards of each other after a run of several miles. Mr. Daniel in his rural sports gives an instance in which a brace of greyhounds chased a hare a distance of four miles in twelve minutes.

The Greyhound's Affection.

Washington Irving tells the following story of a greyhound's affection for his master. "An officer named St. Leger, who was imprisoned in Vincennes (near Paris) during the wars of St. Bartholomew, wished to keep with him a greyhound that he had brought up, and which was much attached to him; but they harshly refused him this innocent pleasure, and sent away the greyhound to his house in the Rue des Lions Saint Paul. The next day the greyhound returned alone to Vincennes, and began to bark under the windows of the tower, where the officer was confined.

St. Leger approached, looked through the bars, and was delighted again to see his faithful hound, who began to jump and play a thousand gambols to show her joy. He threw a piece of bread to the animal, who ate it with great good will; and, in spite of the immense wall which separated them, they breakfasted together like two friends. This friendly visit was not the last. Abandoned by his relations, who believed him dead, the unfortunate prisoner received the visits of his greyhound only, during four years' confinement. Whatever weather it might be, in spite of rain or snow, the faithful animal did not fail a single day to pay her accustomed visit. Six months after his release from prison St. Leger died. The faithful greyhound would no longer remain in the house; but on the day after the funeral returned to the castle of Vincennes, and it is supposed she was actuated by a motive of grat.i.tude. A jailor of the outer court had always shown great kindness to this dog, which was as handsome as affectionate. Contrary to the custom of people of that cla.s.s, this man had been touched by her attachment and beauty, so that he facilitated her approach to see her master, and also insured her a safe retreat. Penetrated with grat.i.tude for this service, the greyhound remained the rest of her life near the benevolent jailor. It was remarked, that even while testifying her zeal and grat.i.tude for her second master, one could easily see that her heart was with the first.

Like those who, having lost a parent, a brother, or a friend, come from afar to seek consolation by viewing the place which they inhabited, this affectionate animal repaired frequently to the tower where St. Leger had been imprisoned, and would contemplate for hours together the gloomy window from which her dear master had so often smiled to her, and where they had so frequently breakfasted together."

The Lurcher.

"The rough, large-boned, ill-looking Lurcher," says Mrs. Bowdich, "is said to have descended from the rough greyhound and the shepherd's dog.

It is now rare; but there are some of its sinister-looking mongrel progeny still to be seen. They always bear the reputation of being poachers' dogs, and are deeply attached to their owners. They have a fine scent; and a man confessed to Mr. Bewick, that he could, with a pair of lurchers, procure as many rabbits as he pleased. They never give tongue, but set about their work silently and cautiously, and hunt hares and partridges, driving the latter into the nets of the unlawful sportsmen." He is a dog to whom a bad name has been given, and who has found a bad name but one step from hanging.

The Bloodhound.

The Bloodhound (_Canis Sanguinarius_) whether because less needed now than formerly or not, is less cultivated and is therefore more rare. Mr.

Bell's description of the breed is as follows:--"They stand twenty-eight inches high at the shoulder; the muzzle broad and full; the upper lip large and pendulous; the vertex of the head protuberant; the expression stern, thoughtful, and n.o.ble; the breast broad; the limbs strong and muscular; and the original colour a deep tan, with large black clouds.

They are silent when following their scent; and in this respect differ from other hounds, who are generally gifted with fine deep voices.

Numbers, under the name of sleuth-hounds, used to be kept on the Borders; and kings and troopers, perhaps equally marauders, have in olden times found it difficult to evade them. The n.o.ble Bruce had several narrow escapes from them; and the only sure way to destroy their scent was to spill blood upon the track. In all the common routine of life they are good-natured and intelligent, and make excellent watch-dogs. A story is related of a n.o.bleman, who, to make a trial whether a young hound was well instructed, desired one of his servants to walk to a town four miles off, and then to a market town three miles from thence. The dog, without seeing the man he was to pursue, followed him by the scent to the above-mentioned places, notwithstanding the mult.i.tude of market-people that went along the same road, and of travellers that had occasion to come; and when the bloodhound came to the market town, he pa.s.sed through the streets without taking notice of any of the people there, and ceased not till he had gone to the house where the man he sought rested himself, and where he found him in an upper room, to the wonder of those who had accompanied him in this pursuit."