ANECDOTES
OF
THE HABITS AND INSTINCT
OF ANIMALS.

Signed Copy

The Monkey Painter—Page 7.

By Mrs. R. Lee,

FORMERLY MRS. T. E. BOWDICH,
AUTHOR OF "THE AFRICAN WANDERERS," "ADVENTURES IN AUSTRALIA,"
"MEMOIRS OF CUVIER," ETC.
WITH

ILLUSTRATIONS BY HARRISON WEIR.

LONDON:
GRANT AND GRIFFITH,
SUCCESSORS TO J. HARRIS,
CORNER OF ST. PAUL'S CHURCHYARD.
M.DCCC.LII.

LONDON:
PRINTED BY J. WERTHEIMER AND CO.,
CIRCUS PLACE, FINSBURY.

PREFACE.

In making a selection of anecdotes, those have been assembled which were supplied by me to other works, and in most instances have received considerable amplification; others have been given which never before were printed—perhaps not even written; while all which have been transferred from other pages to mine have received the stamp of authenticity. Besides those whose names are already mentioned, I have to thank several friends who have drawn from their private stores for my advantage, and thus enabled me to offer much that is perfectly new.

Dry details of science and classification have been laid aside, but a certain order has been kept to avoid confusion; and, although endeavours have been made to throw as much interest as possible over these recorded habits and actions of the brute creation; I love the latter too well to raise a doubt by one word of embellishment, even if I did not abstain from principle.

The intentions with which this work was commenced have not been carried out, inasmuch as materials have crowded upon me beyond all calculation; and, although a large portion has been rejected, the anecdotes related go no farther than the Mammalia, while almost all animals were to have been included.

With regard to the remaining orders—if the present work should meet with a favourable reception, I shall hope next year to present the public with touching and amusing proofs of the sagacity and dispositions of birds, and of "hair-breadth scapes" from reptiles, etc., some of which will, like those in the present volume, be carefully selected from the works of travellers, from the resources of friends, and from my own experience.

To the pleasing task of enlightening those, who, shut up in close cities, have no opportunity of observing for themselves, and to the still higher enjoyment of directing young minds to an elevating pursuit, the naturalist adds a gratification even better than all, by making known the hidden wonders of nature; and leaving to those who delight in argument, the ever unsolved question of where instinct ends and reason begins, he sets forth the love of the great Creator towards all His creatures, and the ways He takes to show His wisdom.

CONTENTS.

ILLUSTRATIONS

  • The Monkey Painter[Frontis]
  • The Bear and her Cubs[54]
  • The Shepard Dog and Cur[102]
  • The Fox and the Hares[176]
  • Leading the Blind Rat[261]
  • Wild Horses and Wolves[330]

ANECDOTES OF ANIMALS.

THE QUADRUMANA, OR MONKEY TRIBE.

[Top]

Formed like man, and practicing similar gestures, but with thumbs instead of great toes upon their feet, and with so narrow a heel-bone, that even those who constantly walk upright have not the firm and dignified step of human beings; the Quadrumana yet approximate so closely to us, that they demand the first place in a book devoted principally to the intellectual (whether it be reason or instinct) history of animals. This approximation is a matter of amusement to some; but to the larger portion of mankind, I should say, it is a source of disgust. "Rapoynda," I exclaimed, one day, to a troublesome, inquisitive, restless negro, pointing to a black monkey, which much resembled him in character, "that is your brother." Never shall I forget the malignant scowl which passed over the man's features at my heedless comparison. No apology, no kindness, not even the gift of a smart waistcoat, which he greatly coveted, ever restored me to his good graces; and I was not sorry when his Chief summoned him from my vicinity, for I dreaded his revenge.

A few years after, I stood lost in admiration before Sir Edwin Landseer's inimitable picture of "the monkey who had seen the world," in which nature and truth lend their tone and force to the highest efforts of art; when a voice exclaimed, "How can you waste your time looking at that thing; such creatures ought never to have been painted;" and although the speaker was a religious man, he muttered to himself, "I am not sure they ought ever to have been made." The voice proceeded from one of the finest instances of manly beauty; one famed also for talent and acquirement. Rapoynda started into my recollection; and as I slowly left the talented picture, I could not help smiling at the common feeling between the savage and the gentleman, thereby proving its universality.

Never did any one start for a tropical climate with a greater antipathy towards these "wild men" than I did; I lived years in their vicinity and yet contrived to avoid all contact with them, and it was not till I was homeward-bound that my conversion was effected. The ship in which Mr. Bowdich and myself took a round-about course to England, was floating on a wide expanse of water, disturbed only by the heavy swell, which forms the sole motion in a calm; the watch on deck were seated near the bows of the vessel, the passengers and officers were almost all below, there was only myself and the helmsman on the after-deck; he stood listlessly by the binnacle, and I was wholly occupied in reading. A noise between a squeak and a chatter suddenly met my ears; and before I could turn my head to see whence it proceeded, a heavy, living creature jumped on to my shoulders from behind, and its tail encircled my throat. I felt it was Jack, the cook's monkey; the mischievous, malicious, mocking, but inimitable Jack, whose pranks had often made me laugh against my will, as I watched him from a distance, but with whom I had never made the least acquaintance. Whether from fear or presence of mind I do not pretend to say, but I remained perfectly still, and in a minute or two Jack put his head forward and stared me in the face, uttering a sort of croak; he then descended on to my knees, examined my hands as if he were counting my fingers, tried to take off my rings, and when I gave him some biscuit, curled himself compactly into my lap. We were friends from that moment. My aversion thus cured, I have ever since felt indescribable interest and entertainment in watching, studying, and protecting monkeys. We had several on board the above-mentioned vessel, but Jack was the prince of them all.

Exclusively belonging to the cook, although a favourite with the whole crew, my friend (a Cercopithecus from Senegal) had been at first kept by means of a cord, attached to the caboose; but, as he became more and more tame, his liberty was extended, till at last he was allowed the whole range of the ship, with the exception of the captain's and passengers' cabins. The occupations which he marked out for himself began at early dawn, by overturning the steward's parrot-cage whenever he could get at it, in order to secure the lump of sugar which then rolled out, or lick up the water which ran from the upset cup; he evidently intended to pull the parrot's feathers, but the latter, by turning round as fast as Jack turned, always faced him, and his beak was too formidable to be encountered. I was frequently awakened by the quick trampling of feet at this early hour, and knew it arose from a pursuit of Jack, in consequence of some mischief on his part. Like all other nautical monkeys, he descended into the forecastle, where he twisted off the night-caps of the sailors as they lay in their hammocks, stole their knives, tools, etc., and if they were not very active in the pursuit, these purloinings were thrown overboard.

When the preparations for breakfast began, Jack took his post in a corner near the grate, and when the cook's back was turned, hooked out the pieces of biscuit which were toasting between the bars for the men, and snatched the bunches of dried herbs, with which they tried to imitate tea, out of the tin mugs. He sometimes scalded or burnt his fingers by these tricks, which kept him quiet for a few days; but no sooner was the pain gone than he repeated the mischief.

Two days in each week, the pigs, which formed part of our live stock, were allowed to run about the deck for exercise, and then Jack was particularly happy: hiding himself behind a cask, he would suddenly spring on to the back of one of them, his face to the tail, and away scampered his frightened steed. Sometimes an obstacle would impede the gallop, and then Jack, loosening the hold which he had acquired by digging his nails into the skin of the pig, industriously tried to uncurl its tail, and if he were saluted by a laugh from some one near by, he would look up with an assumed air of wonder, as much as to say; What can you find to laugh at? When the pigs were shut up, he thought it his turn to give others a ride, and there were three little monkeys, with red skins and blue faces, whom he particularly favored: I frequently met him with all of them on his back at the same time, squeaking and huddling together, and with difficulty preserving their seat; when he suddenly stopped, and seemed to ask me to praise the good-natured action which he was performing. He was, however, jealous of all those of his brethren who came in contact with me, and freed himself from two of his rivals by throwing them into the sea. One of them was a small Lion monkey, of great beauty and extreme gentleness, and immediately after I had been feeding him, Jack called him with a coaxing, patronizing air; but as soon as he was within reach, the perfidious creature seized him by the nape of his neck, and, as quick as thought, popped him over the side of the ship. We were going at a brisk rate, and although a rope was thrown out to him, the poor little screaming thing was soon left behind, very much to my distress, for his almost human agony of countenance was painful to behold. For this, Jack was punished by being shut up all day in the empty hen-coop, in which he usually passed the night, and which he so hated, that when bed-time came, he generally avoided the clutches of the steward; he, however, committed so much mischief when unwatched, that it had become necessary to confine him at night, and I was often obliged to perform the office of nursemaid. Jack's principal punishment, however, was to be taken in front of the cage in which a panther belonging to me was placed, in the fore part of the deck. His alarm was intense; the panther set up his back and growled, but Jack instantly closed his eyes, and made himself perfectly rigid. I generally held him up by the tail, and if I moved, he cautiously opened one eye; but if he caught sight of even a corner of the cage, he shut it fast, and again pretended to be dead. His drollest trick was practised on a poor little black monkey; taking the opportunity when a calm, similar to that spoken of above, left him nearly the sole possessor of the deck. I do not know that he saw me, for I was sitting behind the companion door. The men had been painting the ship outside, and were putting a broad band of white upon her, when they went to dinner below, leaving their paint and brushes on the upper deck. Jack enticed his victim to him, who meekly obeyed the summons; and, seizing him with one hand, he, with the other, took the brush, and covered him with the white fluid from head to foot. The laugh of the man at the helm called my attention to the circumstance, and as soon as Jack perceived he was discovered, he dropped his dripping brother, and rapidly scampered up the rigging, till he gained the main-top, where he stood with his nose between the bars, looking at what was going on below. As the other monkey began to lick himself, I called up the steward, who washed him clean with turpentine, and no harm ensued; but Jack was afraid to come down, and only after three days passed in his elevated place of refuge did hunger compel him to descend. He chose the moment when I was sitting on deck, and, swinging himself by a rope, he dropped suddenly into my lap, looking so imploringly at me for pardon, that I not only forgave him myself, but procured his absolution from others. Jack and I parted a little to the south of the Sicily Islands, after five month's companionship, and never met again; but I was told that he was much distressed at my absence, hunted for me all over the vessel in the most disconsolate manner, even venturing into my cabin; nor was he reconciled to the loss of me when the ship's company parted in the London docks.

Another monkey, of the same species as Jack, was trained by a man in Paris to perform a multitude of clever tricks. I met him one day suddenly as he was coming up the drawing-room stairs. He made way for me by standing in an angle, and when I said, "Good morning," took off his cap, and made me a low bow. "Are you going away?" I asked; "where is your passport?" Upon which he took from the same cap a square piece of paper which he opened, and shewed to me. His master told him my gown was dusty, and he instantly took a small brush from his master's pocket, raised the hem of my dress, cleaned it, and then did the same for my shoes. He was perfectly docile and obedient; when we gave him something to eat, he did not cram his pouches with it, but delicately and tidily devoured it; and when we bestowed money on him, he immediately put it into his master's hands.

Much more accomplished monkeys than those of which I have spoken, have been known to act plays, and to assume the characters they have undertaken, with a spirit and aptitude which might tempt us to suppose that they were perfectly cognizant of every bearing of their different parts; and their stratagems to procure food, and defend themselves, are only equalled by human beings.

Denizens of those mighty forests, which clothe the earth between the tropics of both the Old and New World, assembling by hundreds in those lands where the Palm, the Banyan, the Baobab, the Bombax, and thousands of magnificent trees adorn the soil; where the most delicious fruits are to be procured, by merely stretching out the hand to separate them from their parent stem; no wonder that both apes and monkeys there congregate, and strike the European, on his first arrival among them, with astonishment. I had seen many at Cape Coast; but not till I advanced into the forest up the windings of the river Gaboon, could I form any idea of their multitude, or of the various habits which characterize their savage lives. The first time the reality burst upon me, was in going up a creek of that river to reach the town of Naängo when the most deafening screams were to be heard over head, mixed with squeaks and sundry strange noises. These proceeded from red and grey parrots, which were pursued to the tops of the tallest trees by the monkeys. The birds were not frightened; on the contrary, they appeared to enjoy the fun, and perching on slight twigs, which would not bear the weight of their playfellows, they stretched out their wings, and seemed vociferously to exclaim, "You can't catch me!" Sometimes, however, they were surprised, and then there was such a scuffle and noise. The four-handed beast, however, plucked the red feathers from the tail of the bird; and careless of its anger, seated himself on a branch, sucking the quills till they were dry, when he started for a fresh supply.

That monkeys enjoy movement, that they delight in pilfering, in outwitting each other and their higher brethren—men; that they glory in tearing and destroying the works of art by which they are surrounded in a domestic state; that they lay the most artful plans to effect their purposes, is all perfectly true; but the terms mirthful and merry, seem to me to be totally misapplied, in reference to their feelings and actions; for they do all in solemnity and seriousness. Do you stand under a tree, whose thick foliage completely screens you from the sun, and you hope to enjoy perfect shade and repose; a slight rustling proves that companions are near; presently a broken twig drops upon you, then another, you raise your eyes, and find that hundreds of other eyes are staring at you. In another minute you see the grotesque faces to which those eyes belong, making grimaces, as you suppose, but it is no such thing, they are solemnly contemplating the intruder; they are not pelting him in play, it is their business to drive him from their domain. Raise your arm, the boughs shake, the chattering begins, and the sooner you decamp; the more you will shew your discretion.

Watch the ape or monkey with which you come into closer contact; does he pick up a blade of grass, he will examine it with as much attention as if he were determining the value of a precious stone. Do you put food before him, he tucks it into his mouth as fast as possible, and when his cheek pouches are so full that they cannot hold any more, he looks at you as if he seriously asked your approval of his laying up stores for the future. If he destroy the most valuable piece of glass or china in your possession, he does not look as if he enjoyed the mischief, but either puts on an impudent air, as much as to say, "I don't care," or calmly tries to let you know he thought it his duty to destroy your property. Savage, violent and noisy are they when irritated or disappointed, and long do they retain the recollection of an affront. I once annoyed a monkey in the collection of the Jardin des Plantes, in Paris, by preventing him from purloining the food of one of his companions; in doing which I gave him a knock upon his paws. It was lucky that strong wires were between us, or he would probably have hurt me severely in his rage; he shook the cage, he rolled about and screamed, and did not forget the offence. On future occasions, the instant he heard my voice, he put himself into a passion: and several months after, although I had been absent the whole time, he seized on my gown while I incautiously stood too near to him, dragged a portion of it within the bars, and bit a great piece out of it, although it was made of a very strong material.

A monkey, of I know not what species, was domiciled in a family in Yorkshire to whom my mother was paying a visit of some days. A large dinner-party was given in honor of the guest, the master of the house helped the soup; but as he was talking at the time, he did not observe its appearance. Presently all to whom it had been served, laid down their spoons, or sent their plates away. This of course attracted attention, and on inspection, the liquid was discovered to be full of short hairs. The servants in attendance were questioned, but they declared they were ignorant of the cause; and the wisest and politest proceeding was, to send the tureen from the table, and, serving the fish, make no further comment. The mistress of the family, however, when the ladies left the dining-room, slipped away from her friends, and summoning the cook to her presence, received an explanation of the mystery. The woman said, she had left the kitchen only for one minute, and when she returned, she saw the monkey standing on the hob of the kitchen grate, with one fore-paw resting on the lid of the boiler which contained the soup. "Oh, Mr. Curiosity," she exclaimed, "that is too much for you, you can't lift that up." To her horror and amazement, however, he had lifted it up, and was putting it on again after popping the kitten in, whose remains were discovered at the bottom when the soup was strained. The poor cook was so bewildered, that she did not know what to do: it was time for the dinner to be served, and she, therefore, for the look's sake, thought it best to send the soup in as it was, even if it were sent out again immediately, "because you know ma'am," said she, "that would prove you had ordered it. I always thought the monkey would do the kitten a mischief, he was so jealous of it, and hated it so because it scratched him, so he seized it when asleep."

A much better disposed monkey belonged to my eldest daughter; and we brought him to England from the Gambia. He seemed to know that he could master the child, and did not hesitate to bite and scratch her whenever she pulled him a little harder than he thought proper. I punished him for each offence, yet fed and caressed him when good; by which means I possessed an entire ascendancy over him. He was very wretched in London lodgings, where I was obliged to fasten him to the bars of a stove, and where he had no fresh air; and he was no sooner let loose than he tried to break everything within his reach; so I persuaded his young mistress to present him to the Jardin des Plantes. I took him there; and during my stay in that place paid him daily visits. When these were discontinued, the keeper told me that he incessantly watched for my return, and it was long before he recovered his disappointment, and made friends with his companions in the same cage. Two years after, I again went to see him; and when I stood before him and said, "Mac, do you know me?" he gave a scream of delight, put both his paws beyond the bars, stretched them out to me, held his head down to be caressed, uttering a low murmur, and giving every sign of delighted recognition.

The most melancholy of all monkeys is, apparently, the Chimpanzee; and although he has perhaps evinced more power of imitating man than any other, he performs all he does with a sad look, frequently accompanied by petulance, and occasional bursts of fury. One of the smaller species, such as those which at different times have been brought to England and Paris, was offered to Mr. Bowdich for purchase, while our ship lay in the river Gaboon. His owner left him with us for four weeks, during which time I had an opportunity of watching his habits. He would not associate with any other of the tribe, not even the irresistible Jack; but was becoming reconciled to me, when one unlucky day I checked his dawning partiality. He followed me to the Panther's cage, and I shall never forget the fearful yell which he uttered. He fled as swiftly as possible, overturning men and boys in his way, with a strength little to be expected from his size, nor did he stop till he had thrust himself into a boat sail on the after-deck, with which he entirely covered himself, and which was thenceforward his favourite abode. It was several days before I could reinstate myself in his good opinion, for he evidently thought I had had something to do with the panther. The latter had been in such a fury, that the sailors thought he would have broken his cage; and he continued restless and watchful for hours afterwards, proving that the chimpanzee is found in his country of Ashanti, further to the north than we had imagined. We did not buy the animal, on account of the exorbitant sum asked for him, and the risk of his living during a long voyage. He was always very sad, but very gentle; and his attachment to his master was very great, clinging to him like a child, and going joyfully away in his arms. Of those kept in the Zoological gardens of England and Paris, many anecdotes have been related, evincing great intelligence. One of the latter used to sit in a chair, lock and unlock his door, drink tea with a spoon, eat with a knife and fork, set out his own dinner, cry when left alone, and delight in being apparently considered one of his keeper's family.

It is in equatorial Africa that the most powerful of all the Quadrumana live, far exceeding the Oran Outang, and even the Pongo of Borneo. Mr. Bowdich and myself were the first to revive and confirm a long forgotten, and vague report of the existence of such a creature, and many thought, as we ourselves had not seen it, that we had been deceived by the natives. They assured us that these huge creatures walk constantly on their hind feet, and never yet were taken alive; that they watch the actions of men, and imitate them as nearly as possible. Like the ivory hunters, they pick up the fallen tusks of elephants, but not knowing where to deposit them, they carry their burthens about till they themselves drop, and even die from fatigue: that they build huts nearly in the shape of those of men, but live on the outside; and that when one of their children dies, the mother carries it in her arms till it falls to pieces; that one blow of their paw will kill a man, and that nothing can exceed their ferocity.

A male and female, of an enormous species of chimpanzee, were brought to Bristol by the master of a vessel coming from the river Gaboon, he had been commissioned to bring them alive, but as this was impracticable, he put the male into a puncheon of rum, and the female into a cask of strong brine, after they had been shot. The person who had ordered, refused to take them, and Professor Owen secured them for the College of Surgeons. The flesh of that in salt and water fell from the bones, but it was possible to set the other up so as to have his portrait taken, which likeness is now in the museum of the college. The rum had so destroyed the hair, that he could not be stuffed, he was between four and five feet high, his enormous nails, amounting to claws, were well adapted for digging roots, and his huge, strong teeth, must have made him a formidable antagonist. There could not be any thing much more hideous than his appearance, even when allowances were made for the disfiguring effects of the spirit in which he had been preserved. He was entirely covered with hair, and not wrinkled and bare in front like the smaller Chimpanzee; and it was for some time supposed, that this was the Ingheena reported by Mr. Bowdich. Since then, however, some skulls have been sent to England from the same locality, of much larger proportions, betokening an almost marvellous size and strength; and these probably, belonged to the real Ingheena. They go about in pairs; and it is evident from their enormous teeth, that, as they are not flesh-eating animals, these weapons must have been given to them as means of defence against the most powerful enemies; in fact, against each other.

I now come from my own knowledge and personal experience to those of others, and I cannot begin with a more interesting account than that given by Mr. Bennett of the Ungka Ape, or Gibbon of Sumatra, the Simia Syndactyla of naturalists. He stood two feet high when on his hind legs, and was covered with black hair, except on the face, the skin of which was also black; the legs were short in proportion to the body and arms, the latter being exceedingly long. His only pouch was under the throat, the use of which was not apparent, for he did not make it a reservoir for food. He uttered a squeaking or chirping note when pleased, a hollow bark when irritated, and when frightened or angry he loudly called out "Ra, ra, ra." He was as grave as the rest of his tribe, but not equally mischievous; he, however, frequently purloined the ink, sucking the pens, and drinking the liquid whenever he could get at it. He soon knew his name, and readily went to those who called him. The chief object of his attachment was a Papuan child; and he would sit with one of his long arms round her neck, share his biscuit with her, run from or after her in play, roll on the deck, entwining his arms around her, pretend to bite, swing himself away by means of a rope, and then drop suddenly upon her, with many other frolics of a childish character. If, however, she tried to make him play when he was not inclined to do so, he would gently warn her by a bite, that he would not suffer her to take any liberties. He made advances to several small monkeys, but they always drew themselves up into an opposing force, and he, to punish their impertinence, seized hold of their tails, and pulled them till the squeaking owners contrived to escape, or he dragged them along by these appendages up the rigging, and then suddenly let them go, he all the time preserving the utmost gravity.

When the hour came for the passengers' dinner he took his station near the table, and, if laughed at while eating, barked, inflated his pouch, and looked at those who ridiculed him in the most serious manner till they had finished, when he quietly resumed his own meal. This is often done by others of his race, and some seem to inquire what you see to laugh at, while others fly into a passion when such an affront is offered.

Ungka greatly disliked being left alone, and when refused anything which he wished for, rolled upon the deck, threw his arms and legs about, and dashed every thing down which came within his reach, incessantly uttering "Ra, ra, ra." He had a great fancy for a certain piece of soap, but was always scolded when he tried to take it away. One day, when he thought Mr. Bennett was too busy to observe him, he walked off with it, casting glances round to see if he were observed. When he had gone half the length of the cabin, Mr. Bennett gently called him; and he was so conscience-stricken that he immediately returned the soap to its place, evidently knowing he had done wrong. He was very fond of sweetmeats; but although good friends with those who gave them to him, he would not suffer them to take him in their arms, only allowing two persons to use that familiarity, and particularly avoiding large whiskers. He felt the cold extremely as he proceeded on his voyage, was attacked with dysentery, and died as he came into a northern latitude.

A female Gibbon was for some time exhibited in London, whose rapid and enormous springs verified the account given of her brethren by M. Duvaueel, who said that he had seen one of these animals clear a space of forty feet, receiving an impetus by merely touching the branch of a tree, and catching fruit as she sprang: the one in England could stop herself in the most sudden manner, and calculate her distances with surprising accuracy. She uttered a cry of half tones, and ended with a deafening shake, which was not unmusical. She made a chirping cry in the morning, supposed to be the call for her companions, beginning slowly, and ending by two barks, which sounded like the tenor E and its octave, at which time the poor thing became evidently agitated. She was, generally speaking, very gentle, and much preferred ladies to gentlemen; but if her confidence had been once acquired, she seemed to place as much reliance on a man as she bestowed unsolicited on a woman.

Monkeys in India are more or less objects of superstitious reverence, and are, consequently, seldom, or ever destroyed. In some places they are even fed, encouraged, and allowed to live on the roofs of the houses. If a man wish to revenge himself for any injury committed upon him, he has only to sprinkle some rice or corn upon the top of his enemy's house, or granary, just before the rains set in, and the monkeys will assemble upon it, eat all they can find outside, and then pull off the tiles to get at that which falls through the crevices. This, of course, gives access to the torrents which fall in such countries, and house, furniture, and stores are all ruined.

The large Banyan trees of the Old World are the favourite resorts of monkeys and snakes; and the former when they find one of the latter asleep, seize it by the neck, scramble from their branch, and dash the reptile's head against a stone, all the time grinning with rage.

The Budeng of Java (Semnopithecus Maurus) abounds in the forests of that island, and flies from the presence of man, uttering the most fearful screams, and using the most violent gestures; but this is not a frequent antipathy, and there is an amusing account of the familiarity which monkeys assume with men, written by a traveller, who, probably, was not a naturalist, for he does not give the technical appellation of any of the species with which he meets in India. From what he says, however, I should suppose some of his heroes to be the same as the Macacus Rhesus. He expresses his surprise, when he sees monkeys "at home," for the first time, as being so different to the individuals on the tops of organs, or in the menageries of Europe. Their air of self-possession, comprehension, and right to the soil on which they live is most amusing. From thirty to forty seated themselves to look at his advancing palanquin and bearers, just as villagers watch the strange arrival going to "the squire's," and mingled with the inhabitants, jostling the naked children, and stretching themselves at full length close to the seated human groups, with the most perfect freedom. This freedom often amounts to impudence; and they frequent the tops of bazaars, in order to steal all they can lay their hands upon below. The only way to keep them off, is to cover the roof with a prickly shrub, the thorns of which stick to the flesh like fishhooks. The above mentioned traveller watched one, which he calls a bandar, and which took his station opposite to a sweetmeat shop. He pretended to be asleep, but every now and then softly raised his head to look at the tempting piles and the owner of them, who sat smoking his pipe without symptoms even of a dose. In half an hour the monkey got up, as if he were just awake, yawned, stretched himself, and took another position a few yards off, where he pretended to play with his tail, occasionally looking over his shoulder at the coveted delicacies. At length the shop-man gave signs of activity, and the bandar was on the alert; the man went to his back room, the bandar cleared the street at one bound, and in an instant stuffed his pouches full of the delicious morsels. He had, however, overlooked some hornets, which were regaling themselves at the same time. They resented his disturbance, and the tormented bandar, in his hurry to escape, came upon a thorn-covered roof, where he lay, stung, torn, and bleeding. He spurted the stolen bon-bons from his pouches, and barking hoarsely, looked the picture of misery. The noise of the tiles which he had dislodged in his retreat brought out the inhabitants, and among them the vendor of sweets, with his turban unwound, and streaming two yards behind him. All joined in laughing at the wretched monkey; but their religious reverence for him induced them to go to his assistance; they picked out his thorns, and he limped away to the woods quite crestfallen.

The traveller came in constant contact with monkeys in his occupations of clearing land and planting, and at first, as he lay still among the brushwood, they gamboled round him as they would round the natives. This peaceable state of things, however, did not last, when he established a field of sugar-canes in the newly-cleared jungle. He tells the story so well, that I must be allowed to use his own expressions:—

"Every beast of the field seemed leagued against this devoted patch of sugar-cane. The wild elephants came, and browsed in it; the jungle hogs rooted it up, and munched it at their leisure; the jackals gnawed the stalks into squash; and the wild deer ate the tops of the young plants. Against all these marauders there was an obvious remedy—to build a stout fence round the cane field. This was done accordingly, and a deep trench dug outside, that even the wild elephant did not deem it prudent to cross.

"The wild hogs came and inspected the trench and the palisades beyond. A bristly old tusker was observed taking a survey of the defenses; but, after mature deliberation, he gave two short grunts, the porcine (language), I imagined, for 'No go,' and took himself off at a round trot, to pay a visit to my neighbour Ram Chunder, and inquire how his little plot of sweet yams was coming on. The jackals sniffed at every crevice, and determined to wait a bit; but the monkeys laughed the whole intrenchment to scorn. Day after day was I doomed to behold my canes devoured, as fast as they ripened, by troops of jubilant monkeys. It was of no use attempting to drive them away. When disturbed, they merely retreated to the nearest tree, dragging whole stalks of sugar-cane along with them, and then spurted the chewed fragments in my face, as I looked up at them. This was adding insult to injury, and I positively began to grow blood-thirsty at the idea of being outwitted by monkeys. The case between us might have been stated in this way.

"'I have, at much trouble and expense, cleared and cultivated this jungle land,' said I.

"'More fool you,' said the monkeys.

"'I have planted and watched over these sugar-canes.'

"'Watched! ah, ha! so have we for the matter of that.'

"'But, surely I have a right to reap what I sowed?'

"'Don't see it,' said the monkeys; 'the jungle, by rights prescriptive and indefensible, is ours, and has been so ever since the days of Ram Honuman of the long tail. If you cultivate the jungle without our consent you must look to the consequences. If you don't like our customs, you may get about your business. We don't want you.'

"I kept brooding over this mortifying view of the matter, until one morning I hatched revenge in a practicable shape. A tree, with about a score of monkeys on it, was cut down, and half-a-dozen of the youngest were caught as they attempted to escape. A large pot of ghow (treacle) was then mixed with as much tartar emetic as could be spared from the medicine chest, and the young hopefuls, after being carefully painted over with the compound, were allowed to return to their distressed relatives, who, as soon as they arrived, gathered round them, and commenced licking them with the greatest assiduity. The results I had anticipated were not long in making their appearance. A more melancholy sight it was impossible to behold; but so efficacious was this treatment, that for more than two years I hardly ever saw a monkey in the neighbourhood."

When we read of the numbers, the intelligence, and the audacity of monkeys in this part of the world, it becomes a matter of curious speculation as to how they will behave when the railroad is made across India.

It has been frequently observed, that there is nothing more distressing than to see a wounded or suffering monkey. He lays his hand upon the part affected, and looks up in your face, as if appealing to your kindly feelings; and if blood flow, he views it with so frightened an expression, that he seems to know his life is going from him. An inquisitive monkey, among the numerous company which sailed in a ship, always seemed desirous of ascertaining the nature of everything around him, and touched, tasted, and closely scrutinized every object to which he had not been accustomed. A pot of scalding pitch was in use for caulking the seams of the upper deck, and when those who were employed in laying it upon the planks turned their heads from him, he dipped one paw into it, and carrying it to his chin, rubbed himself with the destructive substance. His yell of pain called the attention of the sailors to him, and they did all in their power to afford alleviation; the pitch was taken off as well as it could be, his pouches being entirely burnt away, his poor cheeks were wrapped up with rags steeped in turpentine; and his scalded hand was bandaged in the same manner. He was a piteous sight, and seemed to look on all who came near, as if asking for their commiseration. He was very gentle and very sad, submitted to be fed with sugar and water through a tube, but after a few days he laid his head down and expired.

Mr. Forbes tells a story of a female monkey, (the Semnopithecus Entellus), who was shot by a friend of his, and carried to his tent. Forty or fifty of her tribe advanced with menacing gestures, but stood still when the gentleman presented his gun at them. One, however, who appeared to be the chief of the tribe, came forward, chattering and threatening in a furious manner. Nothing short of firing at him seemed likely to drive him away; but at length he approached the tent door with every sign of grief and supplication, as if he were begging for the body. It was given to him, he took it in his arms, carried it away, with actions expressive of affection, to his companions, and with them disappeared. It was not to be wondered at that the sportsman vowed never to shoot another monkey.

Monkeys are eaten in some parts of the Old World, and universally in South America. M. Bonpland speaks of the flesh as lean, hard and dry; but that which I tasted in Africa, was white, juicy, and like chicken. Mr. Bowdich had monkeys served whole before him at the table of the king of Ashanti, having been roasted in a sitting posture, and he said, nothing could be more horrid or repugnant than their appearance, with the skin of the lips dried, and the white teeth, giving an aspect of grinning from pain.

The howling monkeys of South America, who make the forests resound at night, or before a coming storm, with their hideous choruses, and whose hollow and enlarged tongue bone, and expanded lower jaw enable them to utter those melancholy and startling cries, are larger and fatter than many others in the same country, and are constantly sought for as food. They eat the thick, triangular Brazil nuts (Bertholletia Excelsa), and break the hard pod which contains them with a stone, laying it on the bough of a tree, or some other stone. They sometimes get their tail between the two, of course the blow falls upon the tail, and the monkey bounds away, howling in the most frightful manner.

The prettiest of all monkeys is the Marmozet; the Ouistiti of Buffon; the Simia Jacchus of Linnæus. It is extremely sensitive to cold; nevertheless, if plentifully supplied with wool, cotton, and other warm materials, will live for years in this climate. Dr. Neill of Edinburgh, that most excellent protector and lover of animals, brought one from Bahia, which he found great difficulty in training. It even resisted those who fed it, not allowing them to touch it, putting on an angry, suspicious look, and being roused by even the slightest whisper. During the voyage it ate corn and fruit, and when these became scarce, took to cockroaches; of which it cleared the vessel. It would dispatch twenty large, besides smaller ones, three or four times in each day, nipping off the head of the former, and rejecting the viscera, legs, and hard wing cases. Besides these, it fed on milk, sugar, raisins, and bread-crumbs. It afterwards made friends with a cat, and slept and eat with this animal, but it never entirely lost its distrustful feelings.

Lieutenant Edwards, in his voyage up the Amazon, mentions a domestic white monkey, which had contrived to get to the top of a house, and no persuasions or threats could get him down again. He ran over the roof, displaced the tiles, peeped into the chambers below (for there are no ceilings in that country), and when called, put his thumb up to his nose. He was shot at with corn, but having found a rag, he held it up before him, and so tried to evade the shot; every now and then peeping over the top. At last he was left to himself; and when no endeavours were made to get him down, he came of his own accord. Captain Brown mentions a monkey, who, when he was troublesome in the cabin of a ship, was fired at with gunpowder and currant jelly; and in order to defend himself, used to pick up the favorite monkey, and hold him between the pistol and himself when it was presented.

A race of animals exists in Madagascar, and some of the Eastern islands, to which the name of Maki has been given, and which, although differing in the formation of the skull and teeth, must, from having four hands, be placed among the Quadrumana. They are nocturnal in their habits, very gentle and confiding, with apparently one exception, which is called the Vari. M. Frederic Cuvier has told us, that two of these being shut up in a cage together, one killed and eat his companion, leaving nothing but the skin. Two of them are remarkable for their slow, deliberate movements; and one of them, named the Lemur Tardigradus, was procured at Prince of Wales's Island by Mr. Baird. He tells us that his eyes shone brightly in the dark, and that he moved his eyelids diagonally, instead of up and down. He had two tongues, one rough like that of a cat, the other narrow and sharp, and both projected at the same time, unless he chose to retain the latter. He generally slept rolled up like a ball, with his arms over his head, taking hold of his cage. He and a dog lived together in the same cage, and a great attachment subsisted between them; but nothing could reconcile him to a cat, which constantly jumped over his back, thereby causing him great annoyance.

I cannot better close this notice of Monkeys than by giving a curious legend which is told in Northwestern Africa, and which is more uncommon than the belief, which is to be found in most countries, that "monkeys can talk if they like, but they won't, for fear white men should make them work." It was related by the negroes to each other with infinite humour; the different voices of the characters were assumed, and the gestures and countenance were in accordance with the tale.

"There was once a big and a strong man, who was a cook, and he married a woman who thought herself very much above him, so she only accepted him on condition that she should never be asked to go into the cook-house (kitchen), but live in a separate dwelling. They were married, and all the house he had for her was the kitchen; but she did not at first complain, because she was afraid to make her husband unhappy. At last she became so tired of her life, that she began to find fault; but at first was very gentle. At last she scolded incessantly, and the man, to keep her quiet, told her he would go to the bush (forest), and fetch wood to build her a new house. He went away, and in a few hours brought some wood. The next day his wife told him to go and fetch some more. Again he went away, stayed all day, and only brought home a few sticks, which made her so angry, that she took the biggest and beat him with it. The man went away a third time, and stayed all night, not bringing home any wood at all, saying that the trees which he had cut down were so heavy that he could not bring them all the way. Then he went and stayed two days and nights, which made his wife very unhappy. She cried very much, intreated him not to leave her, promised not to scold or beat him any more, and to live contentedly in the kitchen; but he answered 'No! you made me go to the bush, now I like the bush very much, and I shall go and stop there for ever.' So saying, he rushed out of the cook-house into the bush, where he turned into a monkey, and from him came all other monkeys."

BATS.

[Top]

A race of beings, to which the epithet mysterious may be with some truth applied, affords more interest from its peculiar habits, than from any proof which can be given of its mental powers; and its place in this work is due to the marvellous histories which have been related concerning it, and which have made it an object of superstitious alarm.

Bats, or Cheiroptera, are particularly distinguished from all other creatures which suckle their young, by possessing the power of flight. A Lemur Galeopithecus, which exists in the Eastern part of the globe, takes long sweeps from tree to tree, and owes this faculty to the extension of its skin between its fore and hind limbs, including the tail; but it cannot be really said to fly. The Bats, then, alone enjoy this privilege; and the prolongation of what, in common parlance, we should call the arms and fingers, constitutes the framework which supports the skin, or membrane forming the wings. The thumbs, however, are left free, and serve as hooks for various purposes. The legs, and tail (when they have any), generally help to extend the membrane of the wing; and the breast-bone is so formed as to support the powerful muscles which aid their locomotive peculiarities. They climb and crawl with great dexterity, and some will run when on the ground; but it is difficult for most of them to move on a smooth, horizontal surface, and they drag themselves along by their thumbs. A portion of the Cheiroptera feeds on insects, and another on fruits; one genus subsists chiefly on blood. The first help to clear the atmosphere of those insects which fly at twilight; the second are very destructive to our gardens and orchards; the last are especially the object of that superstitious fear to which I have already alluded. They are all nocturnal or crepuscular, and during the day remain suspended by the sharp claws of their feet to the under-branches of trees, the roofs of caves, subterranean quarries, or old ruins, hanging with their heads downwards; multitudes live in the tombs of Egypt.

The appearance of Bats is always more or less grotesque; but this term more aptly applies to those which live on animal food, in consequence of the additions made to the nose and ears, probably for the sake of increasing their always acute senses of smell and hearing. The ears are frequently of an enormous size, and are joined together at the back of the head; besides which they have leaf, or lance-shaped appendages in front. A membrane of various forms is also often attached to the nose, in one species the shape of a horse-shoe. The bodies are always covered with hair, but the wings consist of a leathery membrane. Another singularity in one genus is the extremity of the spine being converted into two jointed, horny pieces, covered with skin, so as to form a box of two valves, each having an independent motion. The large bats of the East Indies measure five feet from the tip of one wing to that of the other, and they emit a musky odour. The skin of the Nycteris Geoffroyi is very loose upon the body; and the animal draws air through openings in the cheek pouches, head, and back, and swells itself into a little balloon; the openings being closed at pleasure by means of valves. The bite of all is extremely sharp; and we seldom hear of an instance of one being tamed. They try to shelter themselves from chilly winds, and frequent sheltered spots, abounding in masonry, rocks, trees, and small streams.

About the Vampire, or the blood-sucker, there are different opinions: that of the East is said to be quite harmless; but it is asserted that the South American species love to attach themselves to all cattle, especially to horses with long manes, because they can cling to the hair while they suck the veins, and keep their victim quiet by flapping their wings over its head; they also fasten themselves upon the tail for the first reason, and a great loss of blood frequently ensues. Fowls are frequently killed by them as they roost upon their perches, for so noiseless and gentle are they in their flight and operations, that animals are not awakened out of their sleep by their attacks. The teeth are so disposed that they make a deep and triple puncture, and one was taken by Mr. Darwin in the act of sucking blood from the neck of a horse. This able naturalist and accurate observer is of opinion, that horses do not suffer from the quantity of blood taken from them by the Vampire, but from the inflammation of the wound which they make, and which is increased if the saddle presses on it. Horses, however, turned out to grass at night, are frequently found the next morning with their necks and haunches covered with blood; and it is known that the bat fills and disgorges itself several times. Dr. Carpenter is of the same opinion as Mr. Darwin, and also disbelieves that these creatures soothe their victims by fanning them with their wings.

Captain Stedman, who travelled in Guiana, from 1772 to 1777, published an account of his adventures, and for several years afterwards, it was the fashion to doubt the truth of his statements. In fact, it was a general feeling, up to a much later period than the above, that travellers were not to be believed. As our knowledge, however, has increased, and the works of God have been made more manifest, the reputation of many a calumniated traveller has been restored, and, among others, that of Captain Stedman. I shall, therefore, unhesitatingly quote his account of the bite of the vampire, "On waking, about four o'clock this morning, in my hammock, I was extremely alarmed at finding myself weltering in congealed blood, and without feeling any pain whatever. Having started up and run to the surgeon, with a firebrand in one hand, and all over besmeared with gore, the mystery was found to be, that I had been bitten by the vampire or specter of Guiana, which is also called the flying dog of New Spain. This is no other than a bat of monstrous size, that sucks the blood from men and cattle, sometimes even till they die; knowing, by instinct, that the person they intend to attack is in a sound slumber, they generally alight near the feet, where, while the creature continues fanning with his enormous wings, which keeps one cool, he bites a piece out of the tip of the great toe, so very small indeed, that the head of a pin could scarcely be received into the wound, which is consequently not painful; yet, through this orifice, he contrives to suck the blood, until he is obliged to disgorge. He then begins again, and thus continues sucking and disgorging till he is scarcely able to fly, and the sufferer has often been known to sleep from time into eternity. Cattle they generally bite in the ear, but always in those places where the blood flows spontaneously. Having applied tobacco-ashes as the best remedy, and washed the gore from myself and my hammock, I observed several small heaps of congealed blood all around the place where I had lain, upon the ground; upon examining which, the surgeon judged that I had lost at least twelve or fourteen ounces during the night. Having measured this creature (one of the bats), I found it to be, between the tips of the wings, thirty-two inches and a half; the colour was a dark brown, nearly black, but lighter underneath."

Mr. Waterton, whom all the world recognizes as a gentleman, and consequently a man of truth, laboured at one time under the same stigma of exaggeration as Captain Stedman, and many other illustrious travellers; and he confirms the blood-sucking in the following terms:—"Some years ago, I went to the river Paumarau, with a Scotch gentleman. We hung our hammocks in the thatched loft of a planter's house. Next morning I heard this gentleman muttering in his hammock, and now and then letting fall an imprecation or two, 'What is the matter, Sir,' said I softly, 'is anything amiss?' 'What is the matter!' answered he surlily, 'why the vampires have been sucking me to death.' As soon as there was light enough, I went to his hammock, and saw it much stained with blood. 'There,' said he, thrusting his foot out of the hammock, 'see how these imps have been drawing my life's blood.' On examining his foot, I found the vampire had tapped his great toe. There was a wound somewhat less than that made by a leech. The blood was still oozing from it, and I conjectured he might have lost from ten to twelve ounces of blood."

Mr. Waterton further tells us, that a boy of ten or eleven years of age was bitten by a vampire, and a poor ass, belonging to the young gentleman's father, was dying by inches from the bites of the larger kinds, while most of his fowls were killed by the smaller bats.

The torpidity in which bats remain during the winter, in climates similar to that of England, is well known; and, like other animals which undergo the same suspension of powers, they have their histories of long imprisonment in places which seem inimical to life. There are two accounts of their being found in trees, which are extremely curious, and the more so, because the one corroborates the other. In the beginning of November, 1821, a woodman, engaged in splitting timber for rail-posts, in the woods close by the lake at Haining, a seat of Mr. Pringle's, in Selkirkshire, discovered, in the centre of a large wild-cherry tree, a living bat, of a bright scarlet colour, which, as soon as it was relieved from its entombment, took to its wings and escaped. In the tree there was a recess sufficiently large to contain the animal; but all around, the wood was perfectly sound, solid, and free from any fissure through which the atmospheric air could reach the animal.

A man engaged in splitting timber, near Kelsall, in the beginning of December, 1826, discovered, in the centre of a large pear-tree, a living bat, of a bright scarlet colour, which he foolishly suffered to escape, from fear, being fully persuaded (with the characteristic superstition of the inhabitants of that part of Cheshire), that it was "a being not of this world." The tree presented a small cavity in the centre, where the bat was enclosed, but was perfectly sound and solid on each side. The scarlet colour of each of these prisoners seems at present to be inexplicable, and makes these statements still more marvellous.

Professor Bell, in his admirable work on British Quadrupeds speaks of a long-eared bat which fed from the hand; and if an insect were held between the lips, it would settle on its master's cheek, and take the fly from his mouth with great quietness. So accustomed was it to this, that it would seek his lips when he made a buzzing noise. It folded its beautiful ears under its arm when it went to sleep, and also during hibernation. Its cry was acute and shrill, becoming more clear and piercing when disturbed. It is most frequently seen in towns and villages. This instance of taming to a certain extent might, perhaps, be more frequently repeated, if bats were objects of more general interest.

MOLES.

[Top]

There is a tribe of animals constantly around our country habitations, of underground and nocturnal habits, some of which become torpid in winter. All are timid and unobtrusive, and yet have great influence upon our welfare; for they check the rapid increase of those worms and insects which live and breed beneath the soil, and would destroy the crops which are necessary to our existence. There are certain and constant characters in their formation, which bring them all under one group, called Insectivora, or Insect-eating Mammalia, by naturalists; but among them are smaller groups of individuals, with peculiar characters, adapted to their different habits.

The mole is an instance of one of these minor groups; which, with one exception, has a portion of sight in spite of its reputation for being blind. Its smell and hearing, however, are so acute, that they make up for the deficiency in the other sense, a highly developed organ for which, would be very much in the way of an animal which makes its habitation within the earth, and which rarely comes to the surface in the day time. Its fore-feet are largest, and powerful muscles enable it to dig up the soil and roots which oppose the formation of its galleries, and which are thrown up as they become loosened. The nose, or snout, is furnished with a bone at the end, with which it pierces the earth, and in one genus this bone has twenty-two small, cartilaginous points attached to it, which can be extended into a star. A vein lies behind the ear of all, the smallest puncture of which causes instant death.

The food of moles chiefly consists of worms, and the larvæ, or grubs of insects, of which they eat enormous quantities. They are extremely voracious, and the slightest privation of food drives them to frenzy, or kills them. They will all eat flesh, and when shut up in a cage without nourishment, have been known to devour each other. There is a remarkable instance of a mole, when in confinement, having a viper and a toad given to it, both of which it killed and devoured. All squeeze out the earthy matter which is inside worms, before eating them, which they do with the most eager rapidity. In June and July, they prowl upon the surface of the ground, generally at night, but they have been seen by day, and this is the time in which they indulge in fleshy food, for then they catch small birds, mice, frogs, lizards, and snails; but although when in confinement one was known to eat a toad, they generally refuse these reptiles, probably from the acrid humour which exudes from their skin. They, on these occasions of open marauding, are often caught and devoured in their turn by owls at night, and dogs by day. They have a remarkable power of eating the roots of the colchicum, or meadow saffron, which takes such powerful effect on other animals, and which they probably swallow for the sake of the larvæ or worms upon them. Such is their antipathy to garlic, that a few cloves put into their runs, will cause their destruction.

A French naturalist, of the name of Henri Lecourt, devoted a great part of his life to the study of the habits and structure of moles, and he tells us, that they will run as fast as a horse will gallop. By his observations he rendered essential service to a large district in France, for he discovered that numbers of moles had undermined the banks of a canal, and that, unless means were taken to prevent the catastrophe, these banks would give way, and inundation would ensue. By his ingenious contrivances and accurate knowledge of their habits, he contrived to extirpate them before the occurrence of further mischief. Moles, however, are said to be excellent drainers of land, and Mr. Hogg, the Ettrick Shepherd, used to declare, that if a hundred men and horses were employed to dress a pasture farm of 1,500 or 2,000 acres, they would not do it as effectually as moles would do if left to themselves.

The late Earl of Derby possessed a small deserted island, in the Loch of Clunie, 180 yards from the main land, and as proof that moles swim well, a number of them crossed the water, and took possession of this place. They are said to be dragged, as beavers are, by their companions, who lay hold of their tail, and pull them along while they lie on their backs, embracing a quantity of soil dug out in forming their runs. The fur of the mole is very short, fine, and close, and is as smooth and soft as Genoa velvet.

Moles display a high degree of instinct in the skilful construction of their subterranean fortresses. Their site is not indicated by those little mounds of loose earth, which we see raised up at night, and which mark their hunting excursions, but under a hillock reared by themselves, and protected by a wall, bank, or roots of a tree. The earth is well worked, so as to make it compact and hard, and galleries are formed which communicate with each other. A circular gallery is placed at the upper part of the mound, and five descending passages lead from this to a gallery below, which is of larger circumference. Within this lower gallery is a chamber, which communicates with the upper gallery by three descending tunnels. This chamber is, as it were, the citadel of the mole, in which it sleeps.

A principal gallery goes from the lower gallery, in a direct line to the utmost extent of the ground through which the mole hunts, and from the bottom of this dormitory is another, which descends farther into the earth, and joins this great or principal road. Eight or nine other tunnels run round the hillock at irregular distances, leading from the lower gallery, through which the mole hunts its prey, and which it constantly enlarges. During this process it throws up the hillocks which betray its vicinity to us. The great road is of various depths, according to the quality of the soil in which it is excavated; it is generally five or six inches below the surface, but if carried under a stream, or pathway, it will be occasionally sunk a foot and a half. If the hillock be very extensive there will be several high-roads, and they will serve for several moles, but they never trespass on each other's hunting grounds. If they happen to meet in a road, one is obliged to retreat, or they have a battle, in which the weakest always comes off the worst. In a barren soil, the searching galleries are the most numerous, and those made in winter are the deepest, because the worms penetrate beyond the line of frost, and the mole is as active in winter as in warm weather.

The females have a separate chamber made for them, in which they bring forth their young. This is situated at some distance from the citadel, and placed where three or four galleries intersect each other. There they have a bed made of dry grass, or fibres of roots, and four or five young are born at the same time, which begin to get their own food when they are half grown.

Like all voracious animals, moles require a large quantity of water, consequently their run, or fortress, generally communicates with a ditch or pond. Should these dry up, or the situation be without such resources, the little architect sinks perpendicular wells, which retain the water as it drains from the soil.

Moles shift their quarters according to circumstances, and as they swim well, they migrate across rivers; and in sudden inundations are able, not to save themselves alone, but their young, to which they are much attached. The stratagem and caution which they practise in order to secure a bird are highly curious: they approach without seeming to do so, but as soon as they are within reach of their prey, they rush upon it, tear open its body, thrust their snout into the intestines, and revel in their sanguinary feast. They then sleep for three or four hours, and awake with renewed appetite.

All mole-catchers will bear testimony to the rapid movements and consequent difficulty of catching these animals. I have watched a gardener stand for half an hour by one of the little hillocks of loose earth, which, from its movement, showed that the mole was there at work, and remain motionless, spade in hand, and when he saw the earth shake, dash his weapon into the heap. The mere uplifting of his arm was sufficient, and before the spade could reach the ground the mole was gone. He could scarcely reckon on securing his victim once out of twenty efforts.

No moles are found in the north of Scotland, or in Ireland, which some attribute to soil and climate; but they exist in other parts of Europe under similar circumstances.

HEDGEHOGS.

[Top]

Hedgehogs form one of the small groups of insect-eating mammalia, and are remarkable for being also able to eat those substances which are destructive to others; for instance, they will devour the wings of Spanish flies (Cantharides) with impunity, which cause fearful torments to other animals, and not the least to man, by raising blisters on his skin. It would seem that the hedgehog is also externally insensible to poison, for it fights with adders, and is bitten about the lips and nose without receiving any injury. An experiment has been made by administering prussic acid to it, which took no effect.

It is well known that hedgehogs are covered with bristles, amounting to sharp prickles, and that they roll themselves up into a ball. This is effected by a peculiar set of muscles attached to the skin, by which they pull themselves into this shape, and at the same time set up every bristle, and drag their head and limbs within. Such is the resistance and elasticity of these bristles, that the owners of them may be thrown to great distances and remain unhurt, and they will even throw themselves down steep places when they wish to move from a particular spot.

Hedgehogs are nocturnal animals, and frequent woods, gardens, orchards, and thick hedge-rows. It is in the latter that I have heard of one being mistaken by a hen for a bush, in which she might lay her egg in safety. The fact was announced by the triumphant cackling which these birds vociferate on such occasions: the egg was consequently searched for, and found upon the hedgehog's back.

Hedgehogs feed on insects, slugs, frogs, eggs, young birds in the nest, mice, fallen fruits, and the roots of vegetables, especially the plantain, boring into the ground to get at these substances. They will clear a house of black beetles in a few weeks, as I can attest from my own experience. My kitchen was much infested, not only by them, but by a sort of degenerated cockroach, descended from the better conditioned Blattæ, brought in my packages from a tropical country, and which had resisted all efforts for their extermination, such as boiling water, pepper, arsenic-wafers, mortar, etc. At last, a friend, whose house had been cleared of beetles by a hedgehog, made the animal over to me, very much to the discomfort of my cook, to whom it was an object of terror. The first night of its arrival a bed was made for it in a hamper, half full of hay, and a saucer of milk was set within. The next morning the hedgehog had disappeared, and for several days the search made for it was fruitless. That it was alive was proved by the milk being drunk out of the saucer in which it was placed. One night I purposely went into the kitchen after the family had been for some time in bed, and, as I opened the door, I saw the little creature slink into a hole under the oven attached to the grate. Fearing this would sometimes prove too hot for it, I had some bricks put in to fill up the aperture. The next night the bricks were pulled away, and overturned, evincing a degree of strength which astonished us; but, after that, we left the animal to its own care. The beetles and cockroaches visibly disappeared, but as they disappeared other things also vanished; kitchen cloths left to dry at night were missing; then, a silk handkerchief. At last a night-cap left on the dresser was gone; and these abstractions were most mysterious. The next day there was a general search in possible and impossible places, and the end of a muslin string was seen in the oven-hole; it was seized on, and not only was the night-cap dragged out, but all the missing and not missing articles which the hedgehog had purloined; most of them were much torn, and it was supposed that the poor beast had taken possession of them to make a soft bed. I have not seen such a propensity noticed elsewhere, and it may be a useful hint to those who keep hedgehogs. All endeavours to make this animal friendly were unavailing; but I am told, that hedgehogs are frequently quite domesticated; and even shew a degree of affection.

Dr. Buckland ascertained the manner in which hedgehogs kill snakes; they make a sudden attack on the reptile, give it a fierce bite, and then, with the utmost dexterity, roll themselves up so as to present nothing but spines when the snake retaliates. They repeat this manœuvre several times, till the back of the snake is broken in various places; they then pass it through their jaws, cracking its bones at short intervals; after which they eat it all up, beginning at the tail. The old legend, that hedgehogs suck the udders of cows as they lie on the ground chewing the cud is, of course, wholly without foundation. They retreat to holes in trees, or in the earth where they make a bed of leaves, moss, etc., in which they roll themselves, and these substances sticking to the spines make them look like a bundle of vegetable matter. In this condition they pass the winter, in a state of torpidity; but it should be mentioned, that one which was tame, retained its activity the whole year. There are instances of hedgehogs performing the office of turnspits in a kitchen; and, from the facility with which they accommodate themselves to all sorts of food, they are easily kept. They, however, when once accustomed to animal diet, will attack young game; and one was detected in the south of Scotland in the act of killing a leveret.

BEARS.

[Top]

Among the Carnivora, or flesh-eating animals, Bears take the first place; for their characters and habits link them in some degree with the preceding order, the Insectivora. Both principally live on fruit, grains, and insects, and only eat flesh from necessity, or some peculiarity of life, such as confinement, or education.

The Carnivora are divided by naturalists into three tribes, the characters for which are taken from their feet and manner of walking. Bears rank among the Plantigrada, or those which put the whole of their feet firmly upon the ground when they walk. They are occasionally cunning and ferocious, but often evince good humour, and a great love of fun. In their wild state they are solitary the greater part of their lives; they climb trees with great facility, live in caverns, holes, and hollow trees; and in cold countries, retire to some secluded spot during the winter, where they remain concealed, and bring forth their young. Some say they are torpid; but this cannot be, for the female bears come from their retreats with cubs which have lived upon them, and it is not likely, that they can have reared them and remained without food; they are, however, often very lean and wasted, and the absorption of their generally large portion of fat, contributes to their nourishment. The story that they live by sucking their paws is, as may be supposed, a fable; when well-fed they always lick their paws, very often accompanying the action with a peculiar sort of mumbling noise. There are a few which will never eat flesh, and all are able to do without it. They are, generally speaking, large, clumsy and awkward, possessing large claws for digging; and often walk on their hind-feet, a facility afforded them by the peculiar formation of their thigh-bone. They do not often attack in the first instance, unless impelled by hunger or danger; they are, however, formidable opponents when excited. In former times there were few parts of the globe in which they were not to be found; but like other wild animals, they have disappeared before the advance of man. Still they are found in certain spots from the northern regions of the world, to the burning climes of Africa, Asia, and America. The latest date of their appearance in Great Britain, was in Scotland, during the year 1057.

Bears are always covered with thick fur; which, notwithstanding its coarseness, is much prized for various purposes. They afford much sport to those inclined for such exercises; but the cruel practice of bear-baiting is discontinued. In an old edition of Hudibras, there is a curious note of a mode of running at the devoted bears with wheelbarrows, on which they vented their fury, and the baiters thus had them at their mercy. At present the hunts are regularly organised fights, or battles, besides which there are many ways of catching them in traps, pitfalls, etc.

The large polar bear (Ursus Maritimus), with its white fur, its long, flattened head, and black claws, may be seen in great perfection at the Zoological Gardens. In its own country, during the winter, it lives chiefly on seal's flesh, but in the summer eats berries, sea-weed, and marsh plants. It is one of the most formidable of the race; and may be seen climbing mountains of ice, and swimming from floe to floe with the greatest rapidity. Captain Lyon tells us, that when a seal lies just ashore, the bear gets quietly into the water and swims away from him to leeward; he then takes short dives, and manages so that the last dive shall bring him back close to the seal, which tries to escape by rolling into the water, when he falls into the bear's paws; and if he should lie still, the bear springs upon and devours him; its favourite food, however, is the floating carcases of whales. The gait of all bears is a sort of shuffle; but this one goes at such a rate, that its pace is equal to a horse's gallop. It is remarkably sagacious, and often defeats the stratagems practised for its capture. A female with two cubs was pursued across a field of ice by a party of sailors; at first she urged the young ones to increase their speed, by running in front of them, turning round, and evincing, by gesture and voice, great anxiety for their progress; but finding that their pursuers gained upon them, she alternately carried, pushed, or pitched them forwards, until she effected their escape. The cubs seemed to arrange themselves for the throw, and when thus sent forwards some yards in advance, ran on till she again came up to them, when they alternately placed themselves before her.

A she-bear and two large cubs, being attracted by the scent of some blubber, proceeding from a seahorse, which had been set on fire, and was burning on the ice, ran eagerly towards it, dragged some pieces out of the flames, and eat them with great voracity. The sailors threw them some lumps still left in their possession, which the old bear took away and laid before her cubs, reserving only a small piece for herself. As they were eating the last piece, the men shot the cubs, and wounded the mother. Her distress was most painful to behold, and, though wounded, she crawled to the spot where they lay, tore the piece of flesh into pieces, and put some before each. Finding they did not eat, she tried to raise them, making piteous moans all the time. She then went to some distance, looked back and moaned, and this failing to entice them, she returned and licked their wounds. She did this a second time, and still finding that the cubs did not follow, she went round and pawed them with great tenderness. Being at last convinced that they were lifeless, she raised her head towards the ship, and, by a growl, seemed to reproach their destroyers. They returned this with a volley of musket balls;[1] she fell between her cubs, and died licking their wounds.

THE BEAR AND HER CUBS.—Page 54.

The black bear of Canada is a formidable creature, and Dr. Richardson contradicts the assertion that it is not swift of foot; he says that it soon outstrips the swiftest runner, and adds, that it climbs as well, if not better than a cat. It feeds on berries, eggs, and roots; but although it does not seek flesh, it does not refuse it when offered. A young bear of this kind roughly handled a Canadian settler, who, being a very large powerful man, returned hug for hug, till the surprised bear let go its hold. It had ventured into some young plantations, where it was committing much mischief, and the settler had endeavoured to frighten it away. A friend of mine was in the house when the gentleman returned home, his clothes torn in the struggle, and very much exhausted by the encounter; he dropped into a chair, and nearly fainted, but a little brandy revived him, though he was ill some days from the pressure.

A young English officer, who was stationed at a lone fortress in the same country, amused himself by taming a bear of the above species. He taught him to fetch and carry, to follow him like a dog, and to wait patiently at meal time for his share. He took the bear with him when he returned to England, and he became a great favourite with the passengers and the ship's company. Bruin, however, especially attached himself to a little girl, about four years old, the daughter of one of the ladies on board, who romped with him as she would with a dog. In one of these games of play, he seized her with one fore paw, and with the other clambered and clung to the rigging, till he lodged her and himself in the main top, where, regardless of her cries and the agony of her mother, he tried to continue his romp. It would not do to pursue the pair, for fear the bear should drop the child; and his master, knowing how fond he was of sugar, had some mattresses placed round the mast, in case the child should fall, and then strewed a quantity of the sugar on the deck; he called Bruin, and pointed to it, who, after a moment's hesitation, came down as he went up, bringing the child in safety. He was, of course, deprived of his liberty during the rest of his voyage.

This same black bear of Canada, after it has hugged its antagonists to death, tears them open with its hind feet. It will ward off blows like an accomplished boxer; for, as it would be of no use to strike him on his thickly-covered body, the attacks are usually made about the head. A man who wantonly threw an axe at a male bear as he passed, wounded him, whereupon the beast rushed at him, the man fell backwards over a fallen tree, and, in so doing, tore off a sharp-pointed knob of wood, which he thrust down the bear's throat, and so killed him; not, however, before he had received his own death wound from the hind foot. He walked home holding in his intestines, and died a day or two after.[2]

An old hunter, named Ruhe, having set his traps to catch beavers, returned to the stream to ascertain his success; he missed one of them, and, on looking for it, saw signs of a bear having passed that way. As he went on, he heard the noise of a heavy body breaking through the bushes in the thicket. He hid himself behind a rock, and saw a huge bear, limping on three legs to a flat piece of rock, upon which it seated itself, and on raising one of its fore paws Ruhe discovered that it was encircled by the lost trap. The bear lifted the iron glove towards his face, examined it, turned his paw round and round, bent his head from side to side, looked at the trap askance with the most puzzled air, felt the encumbrance, tapped it on the rock, and evidently knew not what to do. Then he began to feel pain and licked it; but Ruhe soon put an end to all his conjectures, by shooting him dead.[3]

Of all bears, the grizzly is said to be the most formidable, both for size and ferocity, and Mr. Ruxton tells the following anecdote, in which one of them makes a conspicuous figure:—"A trapper, named Glass, and a companion, were setting their beaver traps in a stream to the north of the river Platte, when they saw a large, grizzly bear turning up the turf near by, and searching for roots and pig-nuts. The two men crept to the thicket, and fired at him; they wounded, but did not kill him; the beast groaned, jumped all four legs from the ground, and, snorting with pain and fury, charged towards the place from whence came the smoke of the rifles. The men rushed through the thicket, where the underwood almost impeded their progress; but the beast's weight and strength carried him along so fast, that he soon came up with them. A steep bluff was situated a hundred yards off, with a level plain of grass between it and the thicket; the hunters flew across the latter with the utmost speed, the bear after them. When he reached about halfway, Glass stumbled over a stone and fell. He rose, and the bear stood before him on his hind legs. Glass called to his companion to fire, and he himself sent the contents of his pistol into the bear's body. The furious animal, with the blood streaming from his nose and mouth, knocked the pistol away with one paw, while he stuck the claws of the other into the flesh of his antagonist, and rolled with him on the ground. Glass managed to reach his knife, and plunged it several times into the bear, while the latter, with tooth and claw, tore his flesh. At last, blinded with blood and exhaustion, the knife fell from the trapper's hand, and he became insensible. His companion, who thought his turn would come next, did not even think of reloading his rifle, and fled to the camp, where others of his party were resting, to tell the miserable fate of their companion. Assistance was sent, and Glass still breathed, but the bear lay across him quite dead, from three bullets and twenty knife wounds; the man's flesh was torn away in slips, and lumps of it lay upon the ground; his scalp hung bleeding over his face, which was also torn. The men took away the trapper's hunting-shirt, moccasins, and arms, dragged the bear off his body, and left him, declaring, when they rejoined their party, that they had completed his burial."

Although the bear no longer figures in the story, I must be allowed to relate the sequel, as a proof of what human nature can endure without destruction. Months elapsed, and some of the party of the above mentioned camp were on their way to a trading port with their skins, when they saw a horseman approach them, with a face so scarred and disfigured that they could not distinguish his features.

The stranger accosted that one of the party who had been Glass's companion, exclaiming, in a hollow voice, "Hurrah, Bill, my boy, you thought I was gone under (killed) that time, did you? but hand me over my horse and gun, lad. I'm not dead yet." Astonishment and horror seized on the party, many of whom believed he had been buried as well as dead. However, there could be no mistake now, and when they had sufficiently recovered from their surprise to listen to Glass's story, he told them that he knew not how long he lay before he recovered his senses; but when he did, and was able to take nourishment, he was obliged to subsist on the flesh of the bear. When he had strength to crawl, he tore off as much of this as he could carry in his weak state, and crept down to the river; he had suffered tortures from cold, wounds, and hunger, but he had reached the fort, which was between eighty and ninety miles distant, living the greater part of the way on roots and berries, but there he had been taken care of and recovered.

The brown bear much resembles the black in size, habits and shape, and like it, lives in hollow places; he, however, sometimes digs pits for himself, and even constructs huts, which he lines with moss. Both attain an enormous size and weight. All bears are extremely fond of honey and sugar, and are often taken when venturing too close to man to procure these enticing substances. The settlers in Canada, when they make maple sugar, catch them by leaving a boiler full, into which they dip their paws, or their head, and they fall an easy prey when encumbered with the thick, saccharine matter, and sometimes with the boiler also. Bruin's attention is easily diverted, and many have escaped by throwing a bundle or knapsack down when he is in pursuit of them, for while he stoops to examine it, they gain time and distance. It is natural to him to play all sorts of antics; and we are told by an Indian traveller, that in one of his journeys, some bears kept in front of his palanquin, tumbling and playing as if they designed to afford him amusement. Climbing is a great delight to them, and one was seen to ascend a scaffolding, for his own pleasure; he at first proceeded cautiously, examining the strength of all the joists, and at last reached the summit, which was one hundred and twenty feet high. He looked much pleased when he had completed this operation, and the workmen treated him with great civility. They were going to lower him in a bucket, but to this he would not consent, and descended as he had mounted, being so pleased with his prowess, that he repeated his visit.

A Norwegian had tamed a bear so completely, that he used to stand at the back of his master's sledge, where he kept so good a balance, that it was impossible to upset him: if the sledge went on one side, the bear threw his weight in the opposite direction, and so kept up the equilibrium. One day, however, his master, in sport, drove over the worst ground he could find, hoping to throw the bear off. This, however, only served to irritate him; and he vented his ill humour by giving his master a tremendous blow across the shoulders.

A countryman, in Russia, when seeking honey, climbed a very high tree; the trunk of which was hollow, and finding there was a large quantity of comb in it, he descended, and stuck fast in the tenacious substance there deposited. He was so far distant from home, that his voice could not be heard, and he remained two days in this situation, relieving his hunger with the honey. He began to despair of ever being extricated, when a bear who, like himself, came for the sake of the honey, slid down the hollow, hind part foremost. The man, in spite of his alarm, seized hold of him, and the bear, also in a great fright, clambered out as fast as he could, dragging the man up with him, and when clear of his tail-bearer, made off as fast as possible.

The drollest and most accomplished of all bears, was the celebrated Martin, of Paris, whose dancing, climbing, curtsying, tumbling, begging, and many other antics, were the delight of every child in the metropolis, and of many grown-up children also. It is true, that the nursemaids endangered the lives of their charges, by holding them over the side of the pit in which he was kept; but as none did fall, they continued to amuse themselves and their nurslings at the same risk. One morning early, he very cleverly withdrew the bolts of his pit door, and sallied forth on his hind-legs to take a walk. The keepers of the garden had not risen; but the dogs were on the alert, and surrounded Martin, jumping and barking, half in play, and half in earnest. This roused the men, who, rushing out to see what was the matter, beheld the bear in the midst of the canine troop, his tongue lolling out of his mouth, and an expression of fun and enjoyment in his countenance, which was indescribable. Never was the malignant scowl, so often noticed in bears, from pulling the nictating membrane, or third eyelid half over the eye, seen in poor Martin's face; yet he became unpopular from the cupidity of one of the sentinels. This man fancied he saw a five-franc piece lying in the bear's pit, and determined to go during the night, when he would be on duty, and secure it. He accordingly provided himself with a ladder, and when the guard was changed, was found lying lifeless at the bottom, the coveted piece in his hand, which proved to be nothing but a large button. No marks of violence were to be seen upon his body, but the contusions on his head seemed to tell that he had fallen from the ladder when near the top, and so met his death. Whether he had been frightened, or seized with giddiness, or whether Martin had shaken the ladder, no one could say; the animal was sitting quietly by his side when his fate was first made known. The story fled like wildfire from one end of Paris to the other, and in a short time, the populace were fully convinced that Martin had killed him; and this, combined with other exaggerations, induced them to flock in multitudes to see the murderous bear. Afterwards, two balls of arsenic, wrapped up in some sweet substance, were found in the pit, fortunately before Martin had touched them; and the authorities of the establishment thought it prudent to remove him to a den in the menagerie. The front of these dens was closed at night with a sliding shutter, pulled down by inserting a hook at the end of a long pole into a ring, which ring, when the shutter was down, served to admit a bolt. This did not at all please Martin, and the keeper never could accomplish the fastening, till some one else went to the other side to take off the bear's attention; for the moment the shutter was down, Martin inserted his claws and pushed it up again, and this practice was continued as long as he existed.

The Malayan Sun bear (Ursus Malayensis) has a long tongue, short smooth fur, very extensible, flexible lips, and large claws. Sir Stamford Raffles had one which was brought up in the nursery with his children, and when he joined the party at table, would only eat the choicest fruit, and drink champagne, and even be out of humour when there was none of the latter. He was very affectionate, and never required to be chained or chastised. This bear, a cat, a dog, and a lory from New Holland, used to eat amicably out of the same dish. His favorite playfellow, however, was the dog, although he was teased and worried by it incessantly. He grew to be very powerful, and pulled plants and trees up by the roots, the latter of which were too large for him to embrace.

The Bornean bear (Ursus Euryspilus) is one of the most amusing and playful of all bears; begs in the most earnest manner, and when it has more to eat than it can hold in its paws and mouth, places the surplus on its hinder feet, as if to keep it from being soiled; and when vexed or irritated, will never be reconciled as long as the offender is in its sight. It does much injury to cocoa-nut trees, by biting off the top shoots, or tearing down the fruit.

[1] Captain Phipps' Voyage to the North Pole.

[2] L'Acadie.

[3] Ruxton.

BADGERS.

[Top]

Badgers belong to the same division of Carnivora as Bears, but differ from them, not only in size, but in dentition. This, while they claim a sort of miniature relationship, forms them into a separate genus. They afford many a day of what is called sport, to those who choose to hunt them, during which they evince much sagacity in their efforts to escape; but I am happy to say the custom of tying them into an empty cask, and baiting them with dogs, no longer exists. They are by nature slothful and heavy, but are easily tamed, and when roused are fierce. They have a gland under the tail, which secretes a liquid of most disagreeable odour, and causes them to pass into a sort of proverb. They feed chiefly on roots, nuts, and other fruits; attack the nests of wasps, or wild bees, and devour their larvæ, themselves, or their honey, with a perfect indifference to their stings, which cannot pierce through their tough hide. They prey at night and live in the thickest parts of woods or coppices, where they rapidly dig deep holes, by means of their sharp and powerful claws. These holes are divided into several chambers, the innermost of which is round, and lined with hay or grass. All are kept very clean, and every waste remnant of food and species of filth is deposited in holes dug on purpose for its reception. The passages to the dwellings frequently turn at sharp angles, at which places the badgers make a stand when attacked. Mr. St. John caused a badger's hole to be dug out, and he there found balls of grass, rolled up to the size of a man's fist, evidently intended for food. That gentleman also says, that he has frequently found the bulb of the common blue hyacinth lying near the hole. They devour, besides all sorts of vegetables, small animals whether alive or dead, snails and worms; but their peculiar dainty consists of eggs. A partridge's nest affords them a delicious feast, particularly if they include the sitting hen.

Badgers have a peculiarly formed chest and jaw, which give them great strength; their forehead is so thick, in consequence of a ridge which runs down the middle of it, that they are unhurt by a blow in front which would kill an ox; while almost a touch at the back of the head will cause their destruction. Their thick skin, which lies loosely upon them, is much used for making pistol cases, and their fur is excellent for painter's brushes. They are difficult to kill, and few dogs have courage enough to attack them in their holes, where they live in pairs. When thus pursued, they constantly impede the progress of their enemies by throwing the soil behind them, so as to fill up the passages, while they escape to the surface. They are rare animals, but are to be found in various parts of the world. The Chinese eat them in spite of their bad odour. When tamed they show great affection, an interesting proof of which is given by Captain Brown in his popular Natural History, which I transcribe. "Two persons (in France) went on a journey, and passing through a hollow way, a dog which was with them, started a badger, which he attacked, and pursued till he took shelter in a burrow under a tree. With some pains he was hunted out and killed. Being a few miles from a village, called Chapelletiere, they agreed to drag him thither, as the commune gave a reward for every one which was destroyed; besides which they proposed selling the skin. Not having a rope, they twisted some twigs, and by turns drew him along the road. They had not proceeded far when they heard the cry of an animal in seeming distress, and stopped to listen, when another badger approached them slowly. They at first threw stones at it; notwithstanding which, it drew near, came up to the dead animal, began to lick it, and continued its mournful cry. The men, surprised at this, desisted from offering any further injury to it, and again drew the dead one along as before; when the living badger, determined not to quit its companion, lay down on it, taking it gently by one ear, and in that manner was drawn into the midst of the village; nor could dogs, boys, or men induce it to quit its situation, and to their shame be it said, they had the inhumanity to kill the poor animal, and afterwards to burn it, declaring it could not be no other than a witch."

Professor Bell had a badger which followed him like a dog, and which had been tamed when quite young by some cottager's children, with whom he played like a puppy. As he grew in years, he became too rough for them, but at Mr. Bell's was a universal favourite. He yelped with a peculiar, sharp cry when excluded from his master's presence. He was fed at dinner-time, and took the morsels in the most orderly manner. He was very affectionate, good-tempered, and cleanly. He died of a disease which affects many carnivorous animals in confinement—a contraction of the lower opening of the stomach, which prevents the food from passing.

In that most interesting book, written by Mr. St. John, and called "Wild Sports of the Highlands," the author treats at some length of the badger. I select the following passages from his pages:—

"I was just then startled from my reverie by a kind of grunt close to me, and the apparition of a small, waddling, grey animal, who was busily employed in hunting about the grass and stones at the edge of the loch; presently another and another appeared in a little grassy glade which ran down to the water's edge, till at last I saw seven of them busily at work within a few yards of me, all coming from one direction. It at first struck me that they were some farmer's pigs taking a distant ramble; but I shortly saw they were badgers, come from their fastnesses rather earlier than usual, tempted by the quiet evening, and by a heavy summer shower that was just over, and which had brought out an infinity of large black snails and worms, on which the badgers were feeding with good appetite. As I was dressed in grey, and sitting on a grey rock, they did not see me, but waddled about, sometimes close to me, only now and then, as they crossed my track, they showed a slight uneasiness, smelling the ground, and grunting gently. Presently a very large one, which I took to be the mother of the rest, stood motionless for a moment, listening with great attention, and then giving a loud grunt, which seemed perfectly understood by the others; she scuttled away, followed by the whole lot. I was soon joined by my attendant, whose approach they had heard long before my less acute ears gave me warning of his coming.... When caught in traps, they [badgers] never leave part of their foot behind them and so escape, as foxes and other vermin frequently do; but they display very great strength and dexterity in drawing up the peg of the trap, and this done, they will carry off the heaviest trap to an amazing distance, over rock or heather. They never attempt to enter their hole with a trap dangling to their foot, but generally lay up in some furze bush or thicket.

"When first caught, their efforts to escape show a degree of strength and ingenuity which is quite wonderful, digging and tearing at their prison with the strength of a rhinoceros. I one day found a badger, not much hurt, in a trap. Tying a rope to his hind leg, I drove him home before me, as a man drives a pig, but with much less trouble, for he made no attempts to escape, but trotted quietly ahead, only occasionally showing a natural inclination to bolt off the main path, whenever he passed any diverging road, all of which were probably familiar haunts of the unlucky beast. When at home, I put him into a paved court, where I thought he could not possibly escape. The next morning, however, he was gone, having displaced a stone that I thought him quite incapable of moving, and then digging under a wall.... Sometimes I have known a badger leave the solitude of the woods and take to some drain in the cultivated country, where he becomes very bold and destructive to the crops, cutting down wheat, and ravaging the gardens in a most surprising manner. One which I know to be now living in this manner, derives great part of his food during the spring from a rookery, under which he nightly hunts, feeding on the young rooks that fall from their nests, or on the old ones that are shot. This badger eludes every attempt to trap him. Having more than once run narrow risks of this nature, he has become so cunning, that no one can catch him. If a dozen baited traps are set, he manages to carry off the baits, and spring every trap, always with total impunity to himself. At one time he was watched out to some distance from his drain, and traps were then put in all directions round it, but, by jumping over some and rolling over others, he escaped all. In fact, though a despised and maltreated animal, when he has once acquired a certain experience in worldly matters, few beasts show more address and cunning in keeping out of scrapes. Though eaten in France, Germany, and other countries, and pronounced to make excellent hams, we in Britain despise him as food, though I see no reason why he should not be quite as good as any pork.

"The badger becomes immensely fat. Though not a great eater, his quiet habits and his being a great sleeper prevent his being lean." That sleep is taken in the day, for his habits are generally nocturnal.

All badgers may be recognized by the broad black band across their cheeks. Those of India have longer legs than those of Europe; their snout is also prolonged, like that of a hog; and their tail resembles that of the latter animal. They are very slow in their movement, and when affronted make a peculiar grunting noise, and bristle up the hair of their back. If still more roused, they stand on their hind legs as bears do, have much power in their fore legs, and are extremely savage when provoked.

WEASELS.

[Top]

The second tribe of Carnivora walks upon its toes, and is, consequently, called Digitigrada; it is chiefly composed of a number of smaller animals, which are very interesting from many of their habits, very precious from the valuable fur which they afford, and in many instances are so destructive, that they go under the common name of Vermin. A numerous genus bears the appellation of Vermiform, because their bodies are long, and their legs are short, which formation enables them to slide through small apertures in worm-fashion, twisting themselves through the winding passages, with their bodies touching the ground. They destroy much game, and, except when trained to kill rats and rabbits, are objects of persecution and dislike. Among them are weasels, polecats, ferrets, martens, skunks, and others. The ermine and sable are included with the martens; and the three first send forth a disagreeable odour. They, however, are not to be compared in this respect to the skunk, which of all creatures is one of the most disagreeable, in consequence of its fœtid gland, which secretes the offensive liquor sent forth when the animal is frightened or irritated. Nothing will obliterate this odour, no other scent overcomes it; no burying in the earth, no washing will avail; even time does not cure, and an article of dress put by for years, is still unwearable.

It is to weasels and otters that I shall confine myself in this work, for about their intellectual powers do we know most. The first is a very courageous beast, not fearing to attack animals much larger than himself—even man. A labouring peasant at Glencairn, in Dumfrieshire, was attacked by six of them, who rushed upon him when he was at work in a field. Being frightened at such a furious onset, he fled, but they pursued him, although he dealt some back-handed strokes with a large horsewhip. He was on the point of being seized by the throat, when he fortunately perceived the fallen branch of a tree. He snatched it up, and making a stand against his enemies, he killed three, and put the others to flight. Another instance is reported by Captain Brown, in his Popular Natural history, where the affray commenced by a person striking a weasel, which squeaked aloud. This roused a whole colony, consisting of fifteen, who flew at him and bit him severely. A gentleman came to his aid, and with his assistance, several of the assailants were killed, the others ran into the fissures of a neighbouring rock.

There are instances of weasels having been tamed; but it is very difficult to make any impression on their affections, although they are very sagacious, and sagacious animals are more easily influenced than others. The weasel and the stoat are so often mistaken for each other, that it will be well to point out the constant difference in each. The stoat is brown above, dirty white underneath; his tail is longer and more bushy than that of the weasel, and always black at the tip. The weasel is red above, and pure white underneath, and the tail is red and uniform, being deprived of the bushy tip. Mr. Bell, from whose pages I have taken these characters, defends weasels from the accusation of devouring poultry, game, hares, rabbits, and various small birds. He says, that when driven by hunger, they may occasionally eat such things; but that their general food consists of mice and rats of every description, the field and water vole, and moles; and that they ought rather to be encouraged than exterminated, because they destroy so much vermin. They generally approach with the utmost caution and shyness, and when once they have seized their prey, they never let go their hold; they aim at the neck, below the ear, or drive their teeth through the back of the head: they hound and spring, and climb trees with the greatest facility, and seem never to tire of hunting, whether they are hungry or not. Mr. St. John saw one in a stubble field, in which several corn buntings were flying about, or alighting on a thistle. The animal disappeared at the foot of this thistle, and the above gentleman thought he had slunk into a hole, but feeling sure by his manner he intended some mischief, he stayed to watch his movements. As soon as one of the birds settled on the thistle, something sprang up as quick as lightning, and then disappeared with the bird; it was the weasel, who had thus successfully concealed himself. The same gentleman chased a weasel into a hollow tree, who carried something in her mouth. He applied smoke to the hole, and out she came again, carrying the same burden. She ran towards a stone-wall, but was met by a terrier, who killed her, catching her with the greater facility in consequence of her obstinacy in carrying away what Mr. St. John still thought was her prey. On picking it up, however, he found that it was a young weasel, unable to run, which its mother was endeavouring to carry to a place of safety, her former hole in an adjoining field having been ploughed over. Another proof of the weasel's affection for her young, was witnessed by a labourer, who, while standing on a foot-path close to the hedge side, perceived a weasel with one of her young ones in her mouth. He kicked her, and she, dropping it, retreated into a hedge. He then stood over the young one with a stick in his hand, not intending to kill it, but merely to see how its mother would proceed. She soon peeped from her covert, and made several feints to get at her charge, but was obliged to run into the hedge again, intimidated by the stick which the man flourished about. At last she summoned up all her resolution, and in spite of everything, after a great deal of dodging to avoid the stick, succeeded in obtaining the object of her solicitude, and bore it off between the legs of her tormentor.

Weasels sometimes fall a prey to hawks; and I transcribe the following account from the pages of Mr. Bell. "As a gentleman of the name of Pinder, was riding over his grounds, he saw, at a short distance from him, a kite pounce on some object on the ground, and rise with it in his talons. In a few moments, however, the kite began to show signs of great uneasiness, rising rapidly in the air, or as quickly falling, and wheeling irregularly round, whilst he was evidently endeavouring to free some obnoxious thing from him with his feet. After a short but sharp contest, the kite fell suddenly to the earth, not far from Mr. Pinder. He instantly rode up to the spot, when a weasel ran away from the kite, apparently unhurt, leaving the bird dead, with a hole eaten through the skin under the wing, and the large blood vessels of the part torn through."

The nest composed by weasels, in which they will bring forth four or five young ones, two or three times a year, is of dry leaves and herbage, is placed in a hole, in a bank, a dry ditch, or a hollow tree, and if a dog come near it, the mother flies at him, and fastens on his lips with great tenacity.

OTTERS.

[Top]

The much persecuted otter presents himself to our notice among the worm-bodied, digitigrade animals. Their broad webbed feet shew that they frequent the water, and in fact, they are not only found in rivers and lakes of most European countries, but at sea. Their elongated body is flattened horizontally, their tail is broad and flat, and forms an excellent rudder for their guidance when in the water. Their short legs are so loosely jointed that they can be turned in any direction when swimming, and their fur is soft, fine, and close underneath, while a longer, coarser set of hard shining hairs, are on the outside. Their teeth are very pointed, and well adapted to hold their slippery prey; their ears are very small, and close to their head, and they have a nictating membrane, or third eyelid, for the protection of their bright eyes. Their movements in the water are particularly elegant, they swim horizontally, and rapidly dive after their victims, which they eat ashore. It is said, that they will collect a number of trouts into a shoal, and drive them on till, in their dread and alarm, many of the fishes will throw themselves on to the land. They have the power of remaining very long under water, at a considerable depth, and the fierce manner in which they keep dogs at bay, often wounding them severely with their sharp bites; and the anxious watching for their rise in the water when they have retreated, all form a most exciting sport, so that we hear of otter-hunting as a source of keen enjoyment; and there is a hunt on record in which nine otters were killed in one day.

Otters will certainly consume an immense quantity of fish; and the owners of salmon or trout streams have great spite against them. It is, however, very possible to tame them so as to make them bring the fish which they catch. This practice is much more followed in other countries than in England; they are purposely kept for it in Sweden, and at a signal from the cook will go and fetch the fish for dinner. Bishop Heber mentions, that he saw several large and very beautiful otters fastened to bamboo stakes by the side of the Matta Colly river, some of which appeared to be at play, and uttered a shrill, whistling noise. They wore straw collars and were very tame and docile. They should be caught quite young, and fed on small fish, then they are allowed bread and milk at alternate meals; till at last they entirely live upon this food. They are taught to fetch and carry with artificial fishes made of leather, and stuffed with wool. Then they are made to bring dead fishes, and if they attempt to tear them, they are severely punished. Thus trained, in process of time, the otter becomes useful and domesticated.

In their natural condition, otters will wander to considerable distances for their prey; Mr. St. John says, "I was rather amused at an old woman living at Sluie on the Findhorn, who, complaining of the hardness of the present times, when 'a puir body couldn'a get a drop smuggled whisky, or shoot a roe without his lordship's sportsman finding it out,' added to her list of grievances, that even the otters were nearly all gone 'puir beasties.' 'Well, but what good could the otters do you?' I asked her. 'Good, your honor? why scarcely a morn came but they left a bonny grilse (young salmon) on the scarp down yonder, and the vennison was none the worse of the bit the puir beasts ate themselves,' The people here (Morayshire) call every eatable animal, fish, flesh, or fowl, venison, or as they pronounce it, vennison. For instance, they tell you that the snipes are good vennison, or that the trout are not good vennison in the winter.

"It seems that a few years ago, before the otters had been so much destroyed, the people in particular parts of the river were never at a loss for salmon, as the otters always took them ashore, generally to the same bank or rock, and in seasons of plenty, they only eat a small piece out of the shoulder, leaving the rest untouched, and the cottagers, aware of this, searched every morning for their leavings."

"Otters," continues Mr. St. John, "are very affectionate animals; the young anxiously seek their mother, if she should be killed; and if the young are injured, the parent hovers near them till she is herself destroyed. If one of a pair be killed, the one that is left will hunt for its mate with untiring perseverance; and if one be caught in a trap, its companion will run round and round, endeavouring to set it free, on which occasions, though so quiet at other times, they make a snorting and blowing like a horse."

A dog belonging to the above gentleman was running and splashing through the shallow water, and suddenly stood still, sometimes whining, as if caught in a trap, and then biting furiously at something in the water. He was called by his master, but as he did not obey, his master waded to him, and found a large otter, holding on by his powerful jaws to the dog's shoulder; and had he not had a good covering of curly hair, he stood a chance of having his leg broken, the bite was so severe.

The people in Scotland believe that the otters have a king, or leader, which is larger than others, and spotted with white. They also believe that when these animals are killed, a man or another of the brute kind dies suddenly at the same moment; that their skin possesses an antidote to infection, preserves soldiers from wounds, and saves sailors from disasters at sea. The darkness in which otters delight, their watery habitations, their oily, noiseless movements, and their dark fur, invest them with mystery in the eyes of the peasantry in many parts of England.

The emigration of otters is established by the following fact:—"A labourer going to his work, soon after five o'clock in the morning, saw a number of animals coming towards him, and stood quietly by the hedge till they came alongside of him. He then perceived four old otters, probably dams, and about twenty young ones. He took a stick out of the hedge and killed one. Directly it began to squeak, all the four old ones turned back, and stood till the other young ones had escaped through the hedge, and then went quietly themselves. Several families were thus journeying together, and probably they had left their former abode from not finding a sufficiency of food."

The beautiful otter in the Museum of the Zoological Gardens is from Ireland, and is by some considered as a distinct species. It is chiefly found on the coast of Antrim, living in the caverns formed by the basaltic columns of that shore, and, as it hunts the salmon, rewards are offered for its destruction.

The flesh of all otters is extremely rank and fishy; and because it cannot be called meat, it is often allowed to be eaten on the meager days appointed by the Romish Church.

Captain Brown, in his Popular Natural History, tells us of a person who kept a tame otter with his dogs, which followed him in company with them. He hunted fish with them, and they never would hunt any other otter as long as he was with them.

There was a tame otter in Northumberland, which also followed his master wherever he went. He caught his own food, and returned home when satisfied. Once he refused to come to the usual call when he was out, and was lost for some days. At length, going back to the same place, he, with great joy, came creeping to his master's feet, who was still seeking his favourite.

DOGS.

[Top]

Baron Cuvier says that the most useful conquest achieved by man, is the domestication of the dog—a conquest so long completed, that it is now impossible, with any certainty, to trace these animals to their original type. The cleverest of naturalists have supposed them to descend from wolves, from jackals, or from a mixture of the two; while others, equally clever, assert that they proceeded from different species of dogs. The latter maintain that the Dingos of Australia, the Buansas of Nepal, or Dholes of India, the Aguaras of South America, and several other races, are original; and although they may not have produced the dogs which attend man, they prove that we may attribute the latter to predecessors of the same kind, without having recourse to other animals which they more or less resemble. On the other hand again, some of our first men are of opinion that there are now no original dogs, but that all the packs called wild are those which have made their escape from a state of domesticity. This is not the place to examine the merits of the different proofs brought in favor of each argument; and I hasten to a brief notice of some of those which subsist independently of human assistance.

All dogs, wild or tame, walk upon their toes with a firm, elastic gait, and their toes are not retractile. Their other external characters are so varied, that it is impossible to give a general summary of their colour or form; the largest on record (a Suliot, belonging to the king of Naples), measured four feet at the shoulders; the least would probably give a height of as many inches. All the untamed species are lank and gaunt, their muzzles are long and slender, their eyes oblique, and their strength and tenacity of life are almost marvellous.

The Dingo, or Australian dog, roams in packs through that vast country; has a broad head, fierce, oblique eyes, acute muzzle; short, pointed, erect ears; tail bushy, and never raised to more than a horizontal position. He does not bark, but howls fearfully; is extremely sagacious, and has a remarkable power of bearing pain. When beaten so severely as to be left for dead, he has been seen to get up and run away. A man proceeded to skin one, not doubting that life was extinct, and after proceeding a little way with the operation, he left the hut to sharpen his knife. When he returned, the poor animal was sitting up, with the loose skin hanging over one side of his face.

The Dingos worry the cattle of the settlers, and will even eat pieces out of them as they lie upon the ground; the leg of a sheep has been frequently gnawed off by them. Domesticated dogs will hunt and kill them; but show signs of great disgust afterwards, always, if they can, plunging themselves into water, as if to get rid of the contamination caused by such contact. One taken from his mother at six weeks old was partially tamed; but at first he crouched down in all the darkest corners he could find, looking at every one with aversion, and when alone howling incessantly, especially if the moon were shining. He became gradually reconciled to those who fed him, but to no one else. He never gave warning of the approach of strangers, and never made an open attack. It is remarkable that these dogs are not found in the closely neighbouring island of Van Diemen's Land.

The wild dogs of India go under the name of Buansa, Dhole, and Kolsun, are found in Nepal, the Nilgiris, Coromandel, the Dekkan, etc., and bear various names, according to their locality. They prey night and day, have an acute smell, a peculiar bark, not unlike that of a hound, and are of a sandy or red colour. Their head is long; they have an ill-natured look, oblique eyes; long, erect ears; powerful limbs, bushy tail, fur varying according to climate, and all animals are afraid of them. They kill tigers and cheetahs, and the remains of hogs and deer are to be found in their path. An endeavour to tame one succeeded, and he was as affectionate and intelligent as many other dogs.

In Java there is a large, wild dog, and in Beloochistan whole packs are to be found, which pull down buffaloes with ease; their footmarks are like those of a hound; and still further to the west a much larger species is said to exist.

The Sheeb or Schib, of Syria, is wild, and is probably the wolf-dog of Natolia. The Deeb of Nubia would seem to be also a primitive species, but not resembling the packs of wild dogs which inhabit Congo and South Africa, etc., and live in covers and burrows.

The hunters of South Africa tell us that they pull down the strongest antelopes; they are very destructive to sheep, and mangle more than they devour. They are extremely swift, and utter a sharp bark, or chattering cry, which calls the pack together, and is very soft and melodious. The hatred between them and tame dogs is unconquerable, and in their appearance they look like a link between the wolf and the hyæna.

A large group of dogs includes all the indigenous canines of South America, under the name of Aguaras, and resembles foxes. They are silent, if not dumb, and appear to congregate in families rather than packs. They have a peculiar propensity to steal and secrete, without any apparent object for so doing.

Colonel Hamilton Smith, the able writer on dogs, does not acknowledge some of these wild races, but thinks they are what he calls feral, or domestic dogs which have regained their liberty, and have subsisted for many generations on their own intelligence. To these he refers the Natolians and Aguaras; but there can be no doubt concerning the feral nature of the dog of St. Domingo, which descends from the hounds trained to hunt human beings by the Spaniards, and which are supposed to have regained their liberty in the woods of Haiti. It is of these dogs the stories are told concerning runaway negroes, and which were taught by means of raw food, placed in stuffed representations of human beings. They are very handsome creatures, carrying their heads with an air of conscious superiority. They follow a track rapidly, and in complete silence; they, however, always seize their victims.

A contrast to the feral dog of St. Domingo, is the Alco of Mexico, with its small head, short neck, and very thick body. Those of the Pampas having assumed the shapes of all the dogs transported from Europe, have now settled into what may be called curs. They are very bold, very sagacious, are not inimical to men, but destructive to the young animals in herds. They live in burrows, and if brought back to domesticity, are valuable for their courage and highly developed senses.

In various cities exist herds of dogs, who do not own any masters; who infest the streets in packs, and who are at once the scavengers, the purifiers, and the greatest nuisances. In beautiful Lisbon; rising from the Tagus with her stately towers, her gardens, her churches, her deep blue sky, and her noble aqueduct, leading life's beverage to her exquisite fountains, these animals abound; their presence being easily accounted for by their owners bringing and abandoning them there at the time of the vintage. They eat so many grapes when ripe, that they are sent away in self-defence. Woe to the person who affronts one of them; he is obliged to run hard, or else to keep them at bay, by threatening to throw stones at them, and walking backwards; fortunately he can do this in the narrow streets of this city, for he would be lost if surrounded by them. They lodge by day in the holes of ruins, which are so plentiful in Lisbon.

The same dogs, with regard to habits, are to be met with in the cities of Russia, Turkey, and Egypt; but they differ in size and appearance. Those of Turkey are particularly audacious, and in all cities, where cleanliness is not systematically organised, they are doubtless of infinite service; though I have read, in a pamphlet written by a French savant, that those in Egypt are one means of continuing the plague, for they uncover the carelessly buried bodies, and drag portions of flesh and clothing into the houses of the living.

In some of the countries of Guinea, dogs are bred for the table, and sit in circles in the market places for sale. I do not know from what race they come; they are not used for any other purpose, and are small, extremely ugly, and variously marked with brown, red, or black spots. The passion for dog's flesh is in these countries very strong, and no European can keep an animal of this kind many weeks. An officer arrived at Cape Coast Castle when I was there, accompanied by three, not imagining the temptation they would present to the appetite of the natives. One disappeared in the act of landing, and the two others were gone before three weeks had elapsed. My uncle fancied that his rank would secure a favourite sent to him from Europe. He one morning received a deputation from the king of a native town, requesting a palaver, or conference. It was granted, and his sable majesty formally made proposals for Cæsar to figure as a roast at a grand feast, which he was about to hold. My uncle indignantly refused; the king increased the sum offered, till it amounted to something considerable, and then the Englishman, unable to control himself, left the room and sent the customary refreshments, with a message, to signify that the palaver was ended. Although every precaution was taken to save the animal, he was stolen that same night, and gratified the palates of the African gourmands.

I now come to what Colonel Smith calls "The Familiar Dogs," where we find an amount of intellect, which forbids us to say that they do not reason, and where self-sacrifice, fidelity, courage, and affection, in many instances raise them far beyond more gifted creatures. It will be advisable to follow the series of some established work in treating of them, and I have selected that of Colonel Hamilton Smith, both for its extent and its ability. He begins with those which are placed nearest to the Arctic Circle of both hemispheres, and which form a group of large, wolfish dogs, with tapering noses, pointed ears, and, generally speaking, long, white and black hair. They are fierce, broad, and often web-footed; they swim well, hunt together or alone, and when their owners turn them out to obtain their own living, often fish with great dexterity. When they quarrel they constantly destroy each other, for they never will give up while they are alive. Among them are the Siberian dogs, remarkable for the instinct with which they return to their masters, after weeks of absence and self-subsistence, to drag their sleighs. This is the more curious, as they are then always very ill fed, and ill treated. They utter yells when about to be yoked, but, once in file, they move silently and rapidly, sometimes, however, trying to upset their drivers.

The tail of the Esquimaux dogs is bushy, and curls very much over the back, which is covered with long, waving hair. They are very patient and faithful, rapid in their paces, skilful and courageous when hunting, carry burdens, and are very good tempered. They form a close attachment to their masters; and one which had been kept in confinement in Edinburgh, being let loose, entered the kitchen door, found his way through his owner's house, and, leaping on his bed, gave every sign of affection. At another time, as his master was walking in Princes Street Gardens, his foot slipped, and he fell, upon which the dog tried to lift him up by his coat. He was very cunning, and when he ate, strewed his meat around him, to entice fowls and rats. He then laid himself down, and pretended to be asleep; no sooner, however, did they come, than he pounced upon and killed them.

A pair of Esquimaux dogs lived in the Menagerie of the Jardin des Plantes, where they were great favourites; but it was extremely painful to see the poor creatures panting with heat, and almost unable to move, during the hot weather, only feeling happy when cold water was thrown over them. The fondness of the Esquimaux dogs for oil never ceases, and they do not like to drink water, unless it tastes of this substance. Two of them are said to have stood hour after hour before a candle-maker's workshop, evidently sniffing the fumes of the melted tallow with great enjoyment. Their scent is particularly delicate, which renders them invaluable in the chase of the rein-deer. Nor are they, from their resolution and ferocity, less useful in attacking the bear, the very name of which beast, pronounced in their hearing, excites their ardour. Even in the sledge they dash after their prey, out of the track, dragging their owner into the pursuit.

In order to test the strength of the Esquimaux dogs, several experiments have been made, among others by Captain Lyon, who found that three of them could drag him, on a sledge weighing one hundred pounds, at the rate of a mile in six minutes. With heavy loads they are often induced to exert themselves by a woman walking before them, with a mitten in her hand. Having been accustomed to receive food from her, they believe that in this way she offers them meat. They are particularly obedient and affectionate to women, because it is from them that they receive the only kindnesses bestowed upon them, and a word from a female will excite them to exertion, when the blows and threats of the men only make them obstinate.

The dog of the Hare Indians, or Mackenzie river, was first described by Dr. Richardson, and is of a smaller size than the Esquimaux breed, but with broad feet, which prevent him from sinking into the snow. One of them, only seven months old, ran beside this gentleman's sledge for nine hundred miles, frequently carrying one of his master's mittens in his mouth; all are very gentle, and, like the Esquimaux dogs, do not bark.

The large, powerful, and handsome dogs which go by the name of Newfoundland, are not the pure breed of that country. The latter are more slender in their make, have a sharper muzzle, a wilder look, and are generally black in colour, with a rusty spot over each eye, and a tawny muzzle. These are called Labrador dogs, and it is supposed that they and the Esquimaux have contributed to form the commonly accepted breed. What the latter have lost, however, in purity of blood, has been gained on the side of beauty, and there is no animal of its size which conveys a higher idea of intelligence and dignity, than the so-called Newfoundland dog. All are semi-palmate, and dive, swim, and keep longer in the water than any others of their tribe. One was picked up in the Bay of Biscay, out of sight of any other vessel, fatigued and hungry, and which, judging from the circumstances, must have been there for many hours. Their fidelity, their courage, their generosity, are proverbial, and yet it is whispered that they are occasionally capricious and not to be trusted. During long years of intercourse with these animals, I never met with an instance of this; and I have been told that it is more apt to occur when they have been kept in confinement.

A noble creature of the mixed breed, and of the usual colour—black and white—belonged to me, and his extreme good-nature, and endeavours to guard everything belonging to the family, made him like a confidential servant. The great defects in his disposition were heedlessness, and an under estimate of his own power; he did not stop to think before he acted, as many more cautious dogs will do; and he forgot that his weight was so great as to spoil and crush whatever he laid himself upon. As an instance of the former, he one day fancied he saw some one whom he knew in the street, and immediately dashed through the window, smashing not only the glass, but the framework. Directly he had done it he felt he had been wrong, and returning through the shattered window, which was opened for him, he hung his head and walked unbidden to a recess in the room covered with matting, to which place he was always banished when naughty, and seated himself. The bell was rung for the house-maid to come and clear away the broken glass, and as the woman smiled when she passed Lion, I turned my head towards him. There he sat, with a pair of my slippers, accidentally left in the room, in his mouth, as if he thought they would obtain his pardon. My gravity was disturbed, and Lion, seeing this, humbly came up to me, and rested his chin on my knees. I then lectured him concerning the mischief he had committed; and he so perfectly understood, that for a long time, when any one pointed to the window, he would hang his head and tail, and look ashamed. During my absence he constantly collected articles which belonged to me, and slept upon them. One day, on returning from church, he met me on the stairs, dragging a new silk dress along with him by the sleeve, which he must have contrived, by himself, to have abstracted from a peg in a closet.

It must be owned that, clever as my Lion was, Professor Owen was acquainted with a Lion who surpassed him. This gentleman was walking with a friend, the master of the dog, by the side of a river, near its mouth, on the coast of Cornwall, and picked up a small piece of sea-weed. It was covered with minute animals, and Mr. Owen observed to his companion, throwing the weed into the water, "If this small piece afforded so many treasures, how microscopically rich the whole plant would be; I should much like to have one!" The gentleman walked on; but hearing a splashing in the water, turned round, and saw it violently agitated. "It is Lion!" both exclaimed, "What can he be about? He was walking quietly enough by our side a minute ago." At one moment they saw his tail above the water, then his head raised for a breath of air, then the surrounding element shook again, and at last he came ashore, panting from his exertions, and laid a whole plant of the identical weed at Mr. Owen's feet. After this proof of intelligence, it will not be wondered at, that when Lion was joyfully expecting to accompany his master and his guest on an excursion, and was told to go and take care of and comfort Mrs. Owen, who was ill, that he should immediately return to the drawing-room, and lay himself by her side, which he never left during the absence of his owner; his countenance alone betraying his disappointment, and that only for a few minutes.

Many instances are recorded of Newfoundland dogs having saved the lives of those who have fallen into the water, and among them was my father; who, when he was one day missing, was traced to a deep pond in his mother's garden. His friend Trial was called; some of his young master's clothes were shewn to the dog, the pond was pointed out, and Trial dashed in, shortly bringing out the body. He watched all the endeavours made to restore animation, and at last aided the work by being allowed, when dry, to get into the bed, and with the warmth of his body give heat and circulation to the half-expiring child.

A very interesting anecdote is given of a person who was travelling through Holland, accompanied by a large Newfoundland dog. Walking one evening on a high bank, by the side of a canal, his foot slipped; he fell into the water, and being unable to swim, soon became senseless. When he recovered his recollection, he found himself in a cottage, on the opposite side of the canal, surrounded by peasants, who had been using all means for restoring him to life. He was told, that one of them returning home from his work, saw at a considerable distance, a large dog swimming in the water, sometimes pushing, and sometimes dragging something which he appeared to have great difficulty in supporting; but which he at length succeeded in getting into a small creek. When there, the animal pulled this object as far out of the water as he was able, and the peasant discovered it to be the body of a man. The dog shook himself, licked the hands and face of his master; the peasant obtained assistance, and the body was conveyed to the house, where the endeavours used for resuscitation proved successful. Two bruises, with marks of teeth appeared, one on the shoulder, the other on the nape of his neck, whence it was presumed, that his preserver first seized him by the shoulder, but that his sagacity prompted him to shift his grasp to the neck; as by so doing he could keep the head out of the water. He had continued to do this for at least a quarter of a mile, and thus preserved his owner, as much by his intelligence, as by his affection.

The Newfoundland dog, like many others, possesses a sense of time, and Mr. Bell relates an instance of this, which occurred under his own observation. He says, that a fine Newfoundland dog, which was kept at an inn in Dorsetshire, was accustomed every morning as the clock struck eight, to take in his mouth a certain basket, placed for the purpose, containing a few pence, and to carry it across the street to a baker's, who took out the money, and replaced it by the proper number of rolls. With these Neptune hastened back to the kitchen, and safely deposited his trust; but what was well worthy of remark, he never attempted to take the basket, or even to approach it on Sunday mornings. On one occasion, when returning with the rolls, another dog made an attack upon the basket, for the purpose of stealing its contents; when the trusty Neptune placed the basket on the ground, severely punished the intruder, and then bore off his charge in triumph.

The proofs of intelligence which I have related, are perhaps surpassed by those of Dandie, a Newfoundland dog belonging to Mr. M'Intyre of Edinburgh; but it must be recollected, that Dandie's education had been more carefully and continuously carried on, than that of his before mentioned brethren. He selected his master's hat from a number of others, or a card chosen by his master from a whole pack; picked his master's penknife from a heap of others, and any particular article which he might have been told to find, although he would have to search among a multitude of others belonging to the same person; proving that it was not smell which guided him, but an understanding of what he was required to do. One evening, a gentleman in company with others, accidentally dropped a shilling on the floor, which, after diligent search, could not be found. Dandie had been sitting in the corner of the room, apparently unconscious of what had been going on, Mr. M'Intyre then said to him. "Find us the shilling, Dandie, and you shall have a biscuit," the dog instantly jumped up, and laid the shilling upon the table, which he had picked up unperceived by the party. On his return home one evening after the family had gone to rest, Mr. M'Intyre could not find his boot-jack; upon which he said, "Dandie, I cannot find my boot-jack; search for it." The dog scratched at the room-door, his master opened it, and going to a distant part of the house Dandie returned with the boot-jack in his mouth; where Mr. M'Intyre recollected to have left it under a sofa.

Several gentlemen were in the habit of giving Dandie a penny a day, which he always took to a baker's, and exchanged for bread for himself. One of them was accosted by the dog for his accustomed present; but he said, "I have not a penny with me to-day, though I have one at home." Having returned to his house, some time after he heard a noise at the door; it was opened, and Dandie sprang in for his penny. By way of frolic, the gentleman gave him a bad one; the baker refused to exchange the loaf for it; the dog returned to the door, knocked, and when the servant opened it, laid the penny at her feet, and walked away with an air of contempt. He did not, however, always spend all his money, and one Sunday, when it was very unlikely that he could have received a present, he was observed to bring home a loaf. Surprised at this, Mr. M'Intyre desired the servant to search the room for money. Dandie seemed quite unconcerned till she approached the bed, when he gently drew her from it. Mr. M'Intyre secured him, for he growled and struggled; and, continuing the search, the woman found seven pence halfpenny under a piece of cloth. From that time the dog could not endure her, and henceforth hid his money in the corner of a sawpit, under a heap of dust. He constantly escorted Mr. M'Intyre's friends home, when desired to do so, however considerable the distance, and when they were safe, he returned to his own quarters.

Mr. Jukes, in his "Excursions in and about Newfoundland," speaks of a dog which appeared to be of the pure breed, and which he thought to be more intelligent than the mixed race. This animal caught his own fish, for which purpose he sat on a projecting rock, beneath a fish stage, on which the fish were laid to dry, watching the water, the depth being from six to eight feet, and the bottom quite white with fish-bones. On throwing a piece of codfish into the water, three or four heavy, clumsy-looking fish, called in Newfoundland sculpins, would swim in to catch it. The instant one turned its broadside towards him, he darted down, and seldom came up without the fish in his mouth. He regularly carried them as he caught them to a place a few yards off, where he deposited them, sometimes making a pile of fifty or sixty in the day. As he never attempted to eat them, he appeared to fish for his amusement.

Long, lanky, rough-haired, with drooping, bushy tail; long ears, half erect; long, sharp muzzle; black and fulvous in colour, often mingled with brown and white, the Shepherd's Dog yields to none in fidelity and sagacity. In his own peculiar calling, nothing can exceed his vigilance, his quick comprehension, and his intimate knowledge of every individual entrusted to his care. Rushing into the middle of his flock, he singles out any one member of it, and brings it to his master. Fierce in the defence of all, he keeps them together by incessantly prowling round them, dragging the wanderers back to their companions, and fiercely attacking those who would offer them an injury. At night he guides them to their fold; and if this should be in an exposed situation, he throws himself across the entrance, so that the intruding enemy will have to pass over his body to commence his work of destruction.

A ludicrous instance of the promptitude with which he punishes offenders, is related by Colonel Smith, in the following manner:—"We have witnessed the care they take of their charge, and with what readiness they chastise those that molest them, in the case of a cur biting a sheep in the rear of the flock, and unseen by the shepherd. This assault was committed by a tailor's dog, but not unmarked by the other, who immediately seized him, and dragging the delinquent into a puddle, while holding his ear, kept dabbling him in the mud with exemplary gravity; the cur yelled, the tailor came slipshod with his goose to the rescue, and having flung it at the sheep-dog, and missed him, stood by gaping, not venturing to fetch it back until the castigation was over and the dog had followed the flock."

THE SHEPHERD'S DOG AND CUR.—Page 102.

As a proof of the comprehension of the shepherd's dog, I quote the description of Mr. St. John, in his "Highland Sports:"—"A shepherd once, to prove the quickness of his dog, who was lying before the fire in the house where we were talking, said to me, in the middle of a sentence concerning something else, 'I'm thinking, Sir, the cow is in the potatoes.' Though he purposely laid no stress on these words, and said them in a quiet, unconcerned tone of voice, the dog, who appeared to be asleep, immediately jumped up, and leaping through the open window, scrambled up the turf roof of the house, from which he could see the potato field. He then (not seeing the cow there) ran and looked into the byre [farm-yard], where she was, and finding that all was right, came back to the house. After a short time the shepherd said the same words again, and the dog repeated his look-out; but on the false alarm being a third time given, the dog got up, and wagging his tail, looked his master in the face with so comical an expression of interrogation, that we could not help laughing aloud at him, on which, with a slight growl, he laid himself down in his warm corner, with an offended air, as if determined not to be made a fool of again."

Mr. Hogg, the Ettrick shepherd, is the person of all others to give an adequate idea of the shepherd's dog, and I use very nearly his own words. "My dog Sirrah, was beyond all comparison the best dog I ever saw; he was of a surly, 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. I thought I discovered a sort of sullen intelligence in his countenance, notwithstanding his dejected and forlorn appearance; I gave a drover a guinea for 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 eagerness and anxiety he learned his evolutions. He would try every way deliberately, till he found out what I wanted him to do, and when I once made him understand a direction, he never forgot or mistook it again. Well as I knew him, he often astonished me; for when pressed hard in accomplishing the task that he was put to, he had expedients of the moment, that bespoke a great share of the reasoning faculty.

"On one occasion, about 700 lambs, which were under his care at weaning time, broke up at midnight, and scampered off, in three divisions, across the neighbouring hills, in spite of all that he and an assistant could do to keep them together. The night was so dark, that we could not see Sirrah; but the faithful animal heard his master lament their absence in words which, of all others, were sure to set him most on the alert; and without more ado, he silently set off in quest of the recreant flock. Meanwhile the shepherd and his companion did not fail to do all in their power to recover their lost charge; they spent the whole night in scouring the hills, for miles around, but of neither the lambs nor Sirrah could they obtain the slightest trace. They had nothing for it, day having dawned, but to return to their master, and inform him, that they had lost the whole flock of lambs, and knew not what was become of one of them. On our way home, however, we discovered a lot of lambs at the bottom of a deep ravine, and the indefatigable Sirrah standing in front of them, looking round for some relief, but still true to his charge. The sun was then up, and when we first came in view, 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 whole flock was wanting. How he had got all the divisions collected in the dark is beyond my comprehension. The charge was left to himself from midnight until the rising sun, and if all the shepherds in the forest had been there to assist him they could not have effected it with greater propriety."

An exceedingly good shepherd's dog appears to concentrate all his powers in his own immediate vocation; and in this does he exert and exhaust his whole capacity. If he be suddenly awoke, and hurriedly called, he rears himself up to see what sheep are running away, and he is so honourable, that he will lie among pails full of milk, and neither touch them himself, or suffer cat, rat, or any other creature to molest the store.

The drovers' dogs are somewhat larger, and more rugged. They are as sagacious as the shepherd's dog, but they are trained to act with more cruelty to their charges.

The original St. Bernard dog, which has for years been the object of so much interest, resembles the Newfoundland in form, hair, color and size. Another race with close, short hair, is trained to the same services; and one of the latter belonged to me for some time, establishing himself in the good graces of every one by his good temper and fidelity. He must, however, with all his good qualities yield to Bass, the property of Sir Thomas Dick Lauder, who thus writes of him. "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 Bass'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 Bass 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 Bass to carry. Bass 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 circumstance, he sent a man in his place. Bass 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, Bass followed him, shewing 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 Bass, seeing that he had no chance of getting possession of the bag by civil entreaty, raised himself on his hind legs, and putting a great fore-paw 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. Bass 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 peculiar services which the St. Bernard dog is taught to perform, have made them the blessings of the snow-covered regions in which they dwell; their sense of smell is very acute, their large, full, eye, is very expressive, and their intelligence has saved many persons from death, when overtaken by cold on the Alpine passes. One of these noble creatures wore a medal, in commemoration of his having preserved twenty-two lives, and he at last lost his own in an avalanche, together with those whom he was endeavouring to protect. They carry food and wine with them; and followed by the monks, who have vowed themselves to the task, seek those who need assistance.

In passing over a number of dogs mentioned by Colonel Smith, concerning which I have no data for anecdotes, I pause for a moment at the drover, or cattle-dog of Cuba, and Terra Firma, in America, placed by him among the native dogs, (Canis Laniarius), because they are so serviceable in landing cattle from vessels. The oxen are hoisted out by slings passed round the base of their horns; and when they are allowed to fall into the water, men generally swim and guide them by the horns. This office, however, is often performed by one or two dogs, who, catching the frightened animal by the ears, force it to swim to the landing-place, instantly releasing it when it touches the shore, and can walk to its destination. They are equal to mastiffs in strength; and Colonel Smith considers them as the feral dogs of St. Domingo, in continued domesticity, and to have been taken from Spain to the West.

Elegance of form, grace of movement, beauty of countenance, extraordinary swiftness, and great strength; are all combined in the Greyhound, as recorded during the last three thousand years; and continued at the present moment, in various degrees, from the noble sporting dog, to the delicate pet of the drawing-room. The narrow, sharp head, the light, half hanging ears, the long neck, the arched back, the slender yet sinewy limbs, the deep chest, shewing the high development of the breathing organs, and the elevated hind quarters, 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 shaggy as they are from colder regions. Still their Eastern origin is always to be detected by the care which they require during our winters; and (like the Arab horses) those kept for coursing are muffled up in cloths during our periods of cold temperature. Their form, their clear, prominent eyes, shew that they secure their prey by speed, not by smell, and such is their power in this respect, that they will run eight miles in twelve minutes, and will run down the hare with fatigue, while they themselves are comparatively fresh. Colonel Smith fixes their earliest origin to the westward of the Asiatic mountains, where the Bactrian and Persian plains commence, and the Scythian steppes stretch to the north. Thence they have been spread over Europe, Asia, and part of Africa, many have again become wild, and others are the pampered dependents of amateur sportsmen. Many Russian noblemen keep packs of them in the Steppes.

The Scotch greyhound (Cania Scoticus), 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 blood-hound. 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, and itself now scarcely exists but in name.

An instance is recorded of a black greyhound, in Lancashire, who adopted a life of freedom, and lived upon depredation. Many attempts were made to shoot her, but she eluded them all; she was at last ensnared in a barn, where she had placed her puppies; they were destroyed, and she partially reclaimed, so as to be useful in coursing; but she always retained that wild look which told of her frolic. A Mr. Kirkpatrick possessed a greyhound which always took care of the meat in the kitchen, and defended it from cats and other dogs.

The rough, large-boned, ill-looking Lurcher, 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 his 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. They will even pull down deer.

There are still many English hearts which beat quicker at the cry of the hound; there are some old ones which throb at the recollection of the well-appointed field, when the bugle summoned them to the chase, when gallant steeds carried them over gate, hedge, ditch, and river; they even glory when they refer to fearful tumbles, barely escaping with life, and some meeting with a death next in honour, according to their notions, to that of a soldier in action. There are some young ones who listen with entranced ears to the deeds of their forefathers, and amidst the toil of the dark counting-house, wish that such times could come for them. They never will come again; railroads have been invented, men's minds have been diverted into other channels; and fox-hunting, with its concomitant evils and its attendant pleasures, is gradually disappearing from fox-hunting England. Some, on whom the spirit of Nimrod has descended with such force, as to render them impatient under the privation, go to distant lands, and there perform feats worthy of the mighty hunter; but it is neither with hawk nor hound, and before many generations have passed, our beautiful race of hunting dogs will exist but in name.

There are more varieties of these hounds than I can here enumerate; but all possess a larger development of brain than the greyhound; their nose is broader, as well as their jaws; their ears are large and hanging; their tail is raised and truncated, and they have a firm, bold, and erect gait, an appearance of strength, independence, and (if I may be allowed to use the expression) candour, which is vainly looked for in other dogs. They came to us from the East, probably at a later period than those dogs which more resemble the wolf.

The once-esteemed Blood-hound is now rare, and I copy Mr. Bell's description of the breed, in possession of his namesake:—"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 noble; 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 noble 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 nobleman, who, to make 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 multitude of market people that went along the same road, and of travellers that had occasion to come; and when the blood-hound came to the cross market-town, he passed 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."[4]

The stately Stag-hound, with his steady, cautious qualities, is little less valuable than the blood-hound for following a scent. Marvellous feats are related of his perseverance and strength in pursuit of his game; but since the reign of George the Third, the breed has not been kept up. That monarch was particularly fond of this description of hunting; but now, having fallen into disuse, it is not likely to be revived. Stag-hounds are somewhat smaller than the blood-hound; rougher, with a wider nose, shorter head, loose hanging ears, and a rush tail, nearly erect. A most remarkable stag hunt is recorded as having taken place in Westmoreland, which extended into Scotland. All the dogs were thrown out except two, who followed their quarry the whole way. The stag returned to the park whence it started, where it leapt over the wall and expired, having made a circuit of at least 120 miles. The hounds were found dead at a little distance, having been unable to leap the wall.

The fox-hounds are still smaller than the stag-hounds, are generally white in colour, with clouds of black and tan. They have been known to run at full speed for ten hours, during which the hunters were obliged to change their horses three times, or abandon the pursuit.

The Harrier and the Beagle are still smaller varieties: as the name indicates, the former are used exclusively for hunting the hare, and have nearly superseded the beagle, which is chiefly valuable for its very musical note. There was a fancy breed of them in the time of Queen Elizabeth, so small, that they could be carried in a man's glove, and were called singing dogs. They used to be conveyed to the field in paniers.

Turnspits are descended from ill-made hounds, which they resemble in body, but have very short, and even crooked legs. They are rough or smooth. They are said also to be derived from terriers, and it seems to me that the perpetuation of malformation in several breeds will produce the turnspit. They derive their name from having been used to turn the kitchen spit, being put into an enclosed wheel, placed at the end for the purpose. It is a curious fact, that now the office is abolished, the race has become nearly extinct. I extract the following from Captain Brown's "Popular Natural History," to prove, that if turnspits had crooked legs, they had not crooked wits:—"I have had in my kitchen," said the Duke de Liancourt, to M. Descartes, "two turnspits, which took their turns regularly every other day in the wheel; one of them, not liking his employment, hid himself on the day he should have wrought, when his companion was forced to mount the wheel in his stead; but crying and wagging his tail, he intimated that those in attendance should first follow him. He immediately conducted them to a garret, where he dislodged the idle dog, and killed him immediately." The following occurrence at the Jesuit's College at Flêche, shows that others of the species have kept the turnspit to this disagreeable duty. When the cook had prepared the meat for roasting, he found that the dog which should have wrought the spit had disappeared. He attempted to employ another, but it bit his leg and fled. Soon after, however, the refractory dog entered the kitchen, driving before him the truant turnspit, which immediately, of its own accord, went into the wheel. A company of turnspits were assembled in the Abbey Church of Bath, where they remained very quietly. At one part of the service, however, the word "spit" was pronounced, rather loudly. This reminded the dogs of their duty, and they all rushed out in a body, to go to their respective dwellings.

From the word "Spanish" being often prefixed to the name of the Pointer, it is supposed that these dogs came to us from the Peninsula; but as all dogs came from the East, their more ancient origin is to be ascribed to the Phœnicians, who brought them, not only to that country, but probably to England, although many think they were not known here before 1688.

In consequence of long training, the peculiar faculty of pointing at game has become an innate quality on their part; young dogs inherit it, and they only require that discipline which is necessary to make all puppies behave themselves. If we look at a pointer, the first remark which naturally arises, is that he is a large, indolent hound. He is however, extremely docile and affectionate. The black are said to be the best, but they vary in color; their fur is quite smooth, and they are considered very valuable dogs. Mr. Gilpin speaks of a brace of pointers, who stood an hour and a quarter without moving. This, however, was exceeded by Clio, a dog belonging to my father, who stood with her hind legs upon a gate for more than two hours, with a nest of partridges close to her nose. She must have seen them as she jumped over the gate, and had she moved an inch, they would have been frightened away. My father went on, and having other dogs, did not miss Clio for a long time; at length he perceived she was not with the rest, and neither came to his call or whistle; he went back to seek her, and there she stood, just as she had got over the gate. His coming up disturbed the birds, and he shot some of them; but Clio when thus relieved, was so stiff that she could not move, and her master sat down on the grass and rubbed her legs till she could bend them again. She died of old age, having been with us fourteen years from her birth; there were no signs of illness: and she went out in the morning with the shooting party. The first question on the return of the sportsmen was, an inquire for Clio; search was made, and she was found quite stiff in the stable, having apparently come home to die.

Of the general intelligence of the pointer, the following is a proof. A gentleman shooting in Ireland, with a dog totally unused to fetch and carry, killed a snipe. It fell in soft, boggy ground, where he could not get to pick it up. After some vain efforts to approach it, he hied on the pointer, by saying, "Fetch it, Fan! fetch it." She seemed for a moment puzzled at such an unusual proceeding, and looked round inquisitively once or twice, as if to say; What do you mean? Suddenly the sportsman's dilemma seemed to flash upon her. She walked on, took the bird in her mouth quite gently, and carried it to where the ground was firm; but not one inch further would she bring it, despite all the encouragement of her master, who now wished to make her constantly retrieve. This, however, was the first and last bird she ever lifted.

A favourite pointer was lent by a gentleman to a friend; but after some years of trial, finding the dog would not hunt with him, the friend requested his master, then in Ireland, to receive him back. He was conveyed in a packet from Bristol to Cork, and his owner went to meet his dog. The vessel was at some distance from the shore; but seeing him on the deck, the gentleman hailed the sailors, and requested he might be sent in a boat. No sooner, however, did the dog hear his master's voice, than he leaped into the water, and with great demonstrations of joy swam to him on the shore. Such meetings have frequently been too much for dogs, who have died from excessive joy at seeing those they loved, after a long absence.

The sporting dog called the Setter, is distinguished by his long, silky hair, and has consequently been considered as a large spaniel. The head shews an unusual development of brain; and his character for affection and intelligence corresponds with this formation. He is very handsome, is said to have come from Spain to this country, and his original colour to have been deep chestnut, or white. He is now marked with brown, or black, as well as having these colours.

A gentleman in Ireland received a present of a beautiful black setter puppy, from an unknown hand. He bred and cherished him, and the memory of Black York is still fresh in his country; not only for his perfect symmetry, his silky, raven black hair, but for his gentle, submissive disposition. He was a nervous dog when young, for even a loud word alarmed him, which, combined with his mysterious arrival, and an involuntary affection, induced his master to transfer him from the kennel to the drawing-room. From that time York acquired confidence, and lost his timidity; he first walked out with the nursemaids and children, and then accompanied his master. The latter went one morning to a rushy field, to look at some newly born foals; and there York pointed to a snipe. The bird rose, and pitched some hundred yards away, York's nose detected him a second time: he crept on a dozen paces, and couched again. This circumstance betokened his natural perfections; but with his temperament, the firing a gun might be a dangerous trial. He was taken day after day to mark the snipes, and praised for his conduct. After this, his master took his gun and an attendant, with orders to the latter, if York should attempt to levant or run away, he was to catch him in his arms. It occurred as he had anticipated; poor York was dreadfully frightened; every limb quivered, but he was soothed by caresses, and encouraged to go where the dead snipe was lying. In a moment he appeared to comprehend the whole. He smelled the snipe, looked at the gun, then in his master's face, and became bolder when he there saw approbation. Another point, another shot, and another snipe; and York and his master returned home; the gun was put in the corner, and the snipes close by, on the carpet. A dozen times, while his master was drinking his wine, York stole quietly to the corner, smelled the snipes, and examined the gun. From that day he gave up walking with the nursemaids, and became a matchless field dog.

York was never willingly separated from his master, and was very unhappy at his absence; he soon ascertained, that a carpet bag put into the gig, was the signal for going away; and one day, he secretly followed, and only shewed himself when he thought he was at such a distance that he could not be sent back again. He was taken into the gig, and by this means escaped a sad death.

While he was away, a mad dog infected the kennel, and nine setters, and two Skye terriers were obliged to be killed, Black York alone remaining. "From the moment," says York's master, "I took him from the kennel to the parlour, he cut all low connections; on the human race his affections seemed to be concentrated, and on one occasion, he gave a marked instance of his fidelity and intelligence. His mistress had gone with her maid to the beach to bathe, and a general permission had been given to the servants to go to the neighbouring fair a mile off. The young nurse, in the giddiness of girlhood, left the baby in his cot. According to the then existing custom, the hall-door was wide open and, save the sleeping baby, Black York and cats, no living thing held possession of the premises. A strange priest arrived, to ask and receive hospitality. He entered the hall, and the dog, otherwise quiet, sprang forward and assailed him like a tiger. The priest retreated, York's back was ridged for battle, and a mouthful of unquestionable teeth hinted to his Reverence, that the canine customer would prove an ugly one. He retreated accordingly, and York sat down beside his sleeping charge. There he remained on guard until the absent mother returned; when she entered the drawing room, her four legged representative laid his tongue gently across the infant's face, and without opposition permitted Father Malachi to walk in."

Equally interesting is the biography of Mr. Bell's setter, Juno, who from a puppy was one of the best dogs that ever entered a field. "She appeared to be always on the watch, to evince her love and gratitude to those who were kind to her;" and she had other than human friends. "A kitten, which had been taken from its mother, shewed the usual horror of cats at Juno's approach. She however seemed determined to conquer the antipathy, and by the most winning perseverance completely attached the kitten to her; and as she had lately lost her puppies, she became its foster-mother. Juno also played with some tame rabbits, enticing them by her kind manner; and so fond was she of caressing the young of her own species, that when a spaniel of my father's had puppies, and all but one were destroyed, Juno would take every opportunity of stealing this from its mother, and lick and fondle it with the greatest tenderness. When the poor mother discovered the theft, she hastened to bring back her little one; only to be stolen again at the first opportunity, until at length, Juno and Busy killed the poor puppy between them, from excess of tenderness."

I close this account of the setter, by giving an instance of the remarkable power of dogs to return to their homes from a distance, so often cited, and which was exemplified by my father's setter Flush, a dog of remarkable beauty and value. His master drove him in his dog cart as far as London, a distance of above fifty miles, being the first stage of a shooting excursion in another county. The carriage was so constructed, that the opening to admit air was above, and not at the sides, so that Flush could not possibly have seen any part of the road. On his arrival in town, the groom tied him up by a cord, with access to a kennel in the yard of the inn where my father stopped. He saw him the last thing at night, but in the morning the rope had been severed, and the dog was gone. All inquiries proved fruitless, it was supposed the great value of the dog had tempted some one to purloin him, and in great trouble his master wrote home his lamentations. Late in the evening of the day in which he was missed, my mother heard a scratching and whining at the front door, as she passed through the hall. Not supposing in any way it could relate to her, she did not heed it. In about half an hour a smothered bark met her ears, and then she ordered a servant to open the hall door and ascertain the cause. There was poor Flush—wet, dirty, hungry, and weary; with the remainder of the rope hanging to his neck. He had never been a house dog, and that he should seek the dwelling-house rather than the stable at some little distance, was another proof of his sagacity; he knew he should be there more immediately cared for, and so he was. My mother fed him herself; and, stretched before the fire, he forgot his troubles. The joyful news was conveyed to my father, as fast as the post would take it, and from that time Flush was a companion in the drawing-room, as well as in the shooting excursion.

The infinite variety of spaniels almost precludes a separate enumeration of each in a limited work, I shall, therefore, confine myself to a few general remarks. He may be called a small setter, as the setter is called a large spaniel, having the same long hair and ears; but the former is even more silken in its texture. With some it curls more, and is a little harsher, and these are fonder of the water than the others. Their attachments are strong, their intelligence great, and the beauty of some of them makes them much sought as pets; they are, however, generally useful to the sportsman. The only fault which can be laid to their charge, and this perhaps only extends to a few, is, that they are apt to love strangers as well as friends. As an instance to the contrary, was a beautiful little red and white Blenheim, who was most unsociable, and whose affections were most difficult to win. I, however, succeeded, when on a visit to her mistress; and two years after, when I repeated my visit, expected to have the same difficulty. She, however, when the first bark had been given, became silent, and she did not favour me with a sly bite on the heel, as she was in the habit of doing to strangers. Before the evening was over, the recognition was complete, and she jumped into my lap. Her mistress took pains to prevent her from coming in contact with vulgar dogs, always thought her possessed of the most refined habits, and was sure she never would be too fat, because she ate so delicately. One evening, a small, social party of us were listening to the music of Handel, executed by two of the finest performers in the world, when through the door, which stood a little way open, Fanny glided in, with a large piece of fat and skin in her mouth. I thought I was the only person who saw her, and remained quite still; presently my eye caught that of the gentleman of the house, who made a sign that he also had discovered her, and our equanimity was much disturbed. She crouched rather than walked round the room, dragging her bonne bouche over the rich folds of the delicately-tinted silk damask curtains, as they lay upon the ground, till she reached a very obscure corner under the piano, where she proceeded to enjoy herself. As soon as the glorious music was concluded, "Did you see Fanny?" was the exclamation, and the delinquent was dragged out before the last morsel was devoured; so there was proof positive. The next morning the cook told her mistress that she was in the habit of stealing such morsels as I have described, and hiding them, and that she only took them out to eat when she [the cook] was gone to church. Poor Fanny's reputation for refinement was for ever clouded.

In the same house lived a larger spaniel, of the variety which takes to the water, and named Flora. She was an excellent house-dog, and, generally speaking, under no restraint. Some alarm, however, occasioned by a real or reported accident, caused the magistrate of the town in which her master resided, to issue an order, that no dogs should leave the premises of their owners without being muzzled. Accordingly, Flora, when she went out with the servant, had this instrument put on; she hated it at first, tried all she could to get it off, but at length appeared to become indifferent to the confinement which it produced. In consequence of this, it was, perhaps, more carelessly buckled on, and one day it came off, and the man stooped to put it in its place; Flora, however, was too quick for him, she took it up in her mouth, plunged with it into a neighbouring pond, and when she reached the deepest part, dropped the muzzle into it, and swam back, with her countenance expressing delight.

All dogs enjoy the sport to which they are bred, and M. Blase tells us, that he was once shooting near Versailles, when his friend, M. Guilleman, accompanied him, with permission to kill wild ducks on the preserve. There was but one dog between them, but at the first shot, a fine spaniel ran up to them at full speed. He plunged into the water, and caressing M. Guilleman, seemed to say—"Here I am at your service; amuse me, and I will amuse you." The gentlemen pursued their sport all day, and the dog proved excellent. No one appeared to own him; but the sport over, off he set at full gallop, and they saw him no more. They spoke of him to the keeper of the water, who informed them, that the dog belonged to a sportsman living two leagues distant, who was at that time laid up with the gout. "The dog knows," added the keeper, "that persons come to shoot here every Sunday; and on that day, regularly makes his appearance. Having done his duty for the first sportsman whom he meets, he returns to his master."

Mr. Martin, in his clever little treatise on dogs, vouches for the truth of the following story:—"One morning, as a lady was lacing her boots, one of the laces broke. She playfully said to her pet spaniel who was standing by her, 'I wish you would find me another boot lace,' but having managed to use that which was broken, she thought no more about it. On the following morning, when she was again lacing her boots, the dog ran up to her with a new silken boot-lace in his mouth. This created general amazement; for where the dog had obtained it no one could tell. There was no doubt, however, that he had purloined it from some one else."

A black and white spaniel, belonging to a friend of mine, seemed to understand everything said to him, and if his master whispered in his ear, "Find something for your master," every loose article which he could carry was sure to be laid at his master's feet, and frequently the ladies of the family were obliged to lock their work-boxes, to prevent their contents from being carried off by Dash. If one glove were missing, and the other were shown to him, he did not rest till he had found it; and, one day I saw him push a pile of music-books off a What-not, and drag a glove out which had been deemed irrecoverable. A countryman, charged with a letter to be delivered to Dash's master, arrived at the house while that gentleman was at breakfast. The man was shown into a parlour, where he was about to sit down, when a growl saluted his ears. Turning round, he saw Dash lying in a chair near the fire-place, who reared his head, and the ring of the bell-pull hanging close by, he put his paw in it. As often as the man attempted to sit, so often did Dash growl; till at last the stranger's curiosity being excited, as to what the dog would do if he persevered, he sat down in a chair. Dash then effectually pulled the bell; and the servant who answered the summons, was much astonished when he heard who had rung. He, however, was equally pleased, for it explained a mystery which had long puzzled him and his fellow servants. It seemed, that whenever any of them sat up for their master or mistress when they were out, the parlour bell was sure to ring immediately after they had settled themselves to sleep. Of course they had never suspected the spaniel, although, when they afterwards discussed the matter, they recollected that when they awoke, he was not to be seen. There was no doubt that directly he saw their eyes closed, he went to the bell in order to rouse them to watchfulness.

Even surpassing these histories of reason and fidelity, is that which Mr. Bell relates, in nearly the following terms:—"My friend was travelling on the continent, and his faithful dog was his companion. One day, before he left his lodgings in the morning, with the expectation of being absent till the evening, he took out his purse in his room, for the purpose of ascertaining whether he had taken sufficient money for the day's occupation, and then went his way, leaving the dog behind. Having dined at a coffee-house, he took out his purse, and missing a Louis d'or, searched for it diligently, but to no purpose. Returning home late in the evening, his servant let him in with a face of sorrow, and told him that the poor dog was very ill, as she had not eaten anything all day, and what appeared very strange, she would not suffer him to take her food away from before her, but had been lying with her nose close to the vessel without attempting to touch it. On my friend entering the room, she instantly jumped upon him, then laid a Louis d'or at his feet, and immediately began to devour her food with great voracity. The truth was now apparent; my friend had dropped the money in the morning, when leaving the room, and the faithful creature finding it, had held it in her mouth until his return enabled her to restore it to his own hands; even refusing to eat for a whole day, lest it should be out of her custody."

All dogs trained for the service may become Retrievers or finders of game, which they bring to their master without injury. Spaniels, however, are generally preferred. Mr. St. John had one called Rover, a black water-spaniel, who noticed everything that was spoken, and acted accordingly. If at breakfast-time his master said, "Rover must stop at home to-day, I cannot take him out," Rover never offered to go: but if he said, "I shall take Rover with me to-day," the moment breakfast was over, he was on the alert, never losing sight of his master. Plans were frequently made for the ensuing morning in the dog's presence; and one day he was not taken; ever after, when Rover heard over night what was to take place, he started alone, very early, and met the party, sitting in front of the road with a peculiar kind of grin on his face, expressing a doubt of being well received, in consequence of coming without permission. Directly, however, he saw he was well received, he threw off his affected shyness, and jumped about with delight.

Though a most aristocratic dog in his usual habits, when staying in England with Mr. St. John, he struck up an acquaintance with a rat-catcher and his curs, assisting them in their business, watching at the rat-holes where the ferrets were in, and being the best dog of all; for he never gave a false alarm, or failed to give a true one. The moment he saw his master, however, he cut his humble friends, and declined their acquaintance in the most comical manner.

A dark-brown retriever, named Sam, was in the habit of going into a kennel of hounds, who always crowded round and caressed him. When they were in the field at exercise, Sam was told to go and amuse them; he then went among them, jumped Jim Crow, and played all sorts of antics, leaping and tumbling about in the most laughable manner, they looking at him most attentively. He went with his master to call upon a lady; she patted him, asked if he were the celebrated Sam, and hearing he was, she invited him to stay with her. The animal ran to his master, looked up, and seemed to ask for his consent. He was told to return to the lady, and take care of her, upon which he ran to her, took her basket from her, and tried to express his willingness to serve her. He remained with her for some hours, and when his master arrived to fetch him, the lady was so pleased, that she asked for his company till the next day. Sam's owner petted and praised him, told him to be a good dog, and stay with the lady until she had given him his breakfast the next day. The dog was contented to remain, ate his breakfast on the ensuing morning, then looked up in the lady's face, wagged his tail, left the house, and ran home. He was in the habit of fetching his master's clothes, and of returning them to their proper places; and he knew their names. He sat in a chair at dinner with the family, without making any confusion; or dined alone, alternately taking a piece of bread and meat, and then drinking a little milk; and if any one said, "Give me a piece, Sam," he instantly obeyed. When all was gone, he cleared away the things. He would fetch his master's horse from the inn, pay the hostler, and ride back upon the saddle. In short, he seemed to comprehend every thing that was said to him and was a model of good nature and obedience.

Wonderful as these stories are as matters of reason, they are perhaps exceeded by some of the tricks performed by the Poodle-Dogs, who are easily distinguished by their crisply curling hair, their large round head, and long ears, and to whom water is as welcome and familiar as land. Two of them, educated in Milan, exhibited their powers in Paris, and I can vouch for the veracity of the following statement:—The elder was named Fido, and the younger Bianco. The former was a serious, steady dog, who walked about with much solemnity; but Bianco was giddy and frolicsome. A word was given to Fido from the Greek, Latin, Italian, French, or English languages, and selected from a book, where fifty words in each tongue were inscribed, which, altogether, made three hundred combinations. He selected from the letters of the alphabet those which composed the given word, and laid them in order at the feet of his master. On one occasion, the word heaven was told to him, and he quickly placed the letters till he came to the second e, when, after vainly searching for the letter in his alphabet, he took it from the first syllable, and inserted it in the second. He went through the four first rules of arithmetic in the same way, with extraordinary celerity, and arranged the double cyphers in the same way as the double vowel in heaven. Bianco, however, although so heedless, was quicker than Fido, and when the latter made a mistake, was called on to rectify it, but as quickly dismissed, as he was wont to pull his companion's ears, to come and play with him.

One day Fido spelt the word Jupiter with a b, but the younger savant being summoned to correct the error, he carefully contemplated the word, and pushing out the b, replaced it with a p. A lady held her repeating watch to the ear of Fido, and made it strike eight and three quarters. Fido immediately selected an 8, and then a 6, for the three-quarters; the company present and the master insisted upon his error, and he again looked among his cyphers, but being unable to rectify it, he coolly sat himself down in the middle and looked at those around him. The watch was again sounded, and it was ascertained that it struck two for every quarter, which quite exonerated Fido. Both dogs would sit down to play ecarté, asking each other for, or refusing cards, with the most important and significant look, cutting at proper times, and never mistaking one card for another. Bianco occasionally won, and went to the cyphers to mark his points, and when he was asked how many his adversary had gained, he took out an 0 with his teeth. They sometimes played at ecarté with one of the company assembled to see them, when they evinced the same correctness, and seemed to know all the terms of the game. All this passed without the slightest audible or visible sign between them and their master.

There is a water dog at Hastings, belonging to Page the boatman, who, on receiving a penny, immediately takes it to a baker's shop for the purchase of a roll, nor will he part with it till the person who serves him has put the bread upon the counter; he then lays it down, and walks off with his purchase in his mouth. Another dog of this kind, also of my acquaintance, was the family carrier; that is, she carried books, work, etc., to any person or any room pointed out to her; and as we rather encroached on her, she lost almost all her teeth from the hard and heavy burthens with which she was laden. We had only to say, "Cora, take this to so and so," and if the good dog could not find the person, she brought it back and stood before us. At the same hour every afternoon, she, untold, brought her master's boot-jack and slippers into his study, to be in readiness for his return.

Under the despised name of curs, Colonel Smith classes the sharpest, the drollest, the most pertinacious, the most mischievous, and yet the most useful terrier; together with several other small dogs. Long-haired, rough-haired, long-eared, short-eared, brush-tailed, smooth-tailed, long-legged, short-legged, black-eyed, black-nosed; white, brown, black, tan, sandy, mixed; every degree of pure or mongrel blood; terriers of all kinds swarm around us, playing all sorts of antics, evincing all kinds of impertinences, catching all sorts of vermin, and presenting themselves to us in every shape of beauty or ugliness, of which their race is capable.

The most ancient of this influential, if not respectable tribe of dogs, indeed the most ancient dog of Great Britain, is the Scotch Terrier, brought to us, probably, from the north-west of Europe by our primitive inhabitants. There are two varieties of indigenous terriers—the one, smooth, usually white or black in colour, with tan spots; sharp muzzle; bright and lively eyes; pointed or slightly turned-down ears; and tail carried high. It is, however, supposed that the Scottish race, with a shorter and fuller muzzle, stouter limbs, hard, shaggy fur, sometimes white in colour, but more often sandy or ochry, is the oldest and most genuine breed. One of these clever and excellent beasts, named Peter, lived with my mother for some years, and during the whole of that time evinced the greatest sagacity and attachment. He constantly understood the conversation, provided it related to cats, rats, or himself; and often when we spoke of him casually, without even knowing he was in the room, or calling him by his name, he has laid his head on our knees and wagged his tail, as much as to say, "I understand." He was a most inveterate enemy to all rats, mice, and cats, nipping them in the back of the neck, and throwing them over his head at the rate of one in a minute. Before he came into our family, he won a wager that he would kill twelve rats in twelve minutes: the second rat fastened on his lip, and hung there while he despatched the other ten, and then, within the given time, he finished that also. The inhumanity of such wagers did not rest with him. He was stolen more than once, and brought back when a reward was advertised; and, the first time, the signs of suffering about him were very manifest. The beard under the chin, the tufts of the ears, the fringes of the legs, had been all cut off, and he had been rubbed with red ochre to disguise him for sale. He was placed with many others in a cellar, ready for shipping, and the dog-dealer, or rather dog-stealer, who brought him to us, said he thought he would have died of grief in a day or two, for he refused to eat, and seemed to be insensible either to kindness or anger. For three weeks he hung his head and shrunk into corners, as if he felt himself degraded; but at last our caresses and encouragement brought back his usual bold and lively bearing.

For the last three months of my mother's existence, Peter was almost always on her bed, night and day; and during the final four weeks, when death was daily expected, he was sad and dull: which was attributed to the change in the habits of the family. Forty-eight hours before all was over, Peter crept into a corner under the bed, which had always been his place of refuge when in trouble; and we with difficulty prevailed on him to quit it, even when his mistress wished to see and say farewell to him. On that occasion he hung his head, and appeared to be so miserable, that apprehensions of malady on his part were entertained. He returned to his corner, and was not thought of for some time. At length all was quiet in the room, and I was about to leave it, when I recollected Peter. He was with difficulty prevailed on to leave his corner, where he lay, curled up and trembling. I lifted him up to take a last look of his beloved mistress, but he laid his head on my shoulder, and was so much distressed that I carried him away immediately. On the following day, he accompanied me up stairs, and when I passed my mother's door, he looked up in my face as much as to say, "Are you going in there?" but I replied "No!" and he never again asked for entrance. The coffin was soldered down, and removed from the bed-room to the dining-room; and thus had to pass the drawing-room where all the family were assembled. On ordinary occasions, Peter was furious at the sound of strange footsteps in the house, and even barked loudly when any one knocked or rang at the street-door. On this occasion, however, he suffered the men employed to pass and repass frequently, without making the slightest noise; but that he was conscious of some unusual occurrence was evident from his jumping into my arms, where, as the coffin was brought down, he sat with ears erect, and eyes fixed, and panted and trembled in the most agitated manner till all was quiet. As long as the body remained in the house, he took every opportunity of walking round it and lying under it, and when it was removed at five o'clock one morning, to begin its journey to the family vault, he was again much agitated, but never offered to bark. On the following day, I and others started to attend the funeral at a considerable distance, and my daughters were to arrive at eight o'clock, to pass the day in the house of their deceased grandmother. I took leave of Peter, placed him on a mat in the hall, and said, "Stay there till the girls come." He laid himself down; and the servants assured me, he never moved till the parties arrived; when he met them with subdued looks, and closely attached himself to them as long as they were present. I returned two hours after midnight; and the first sound which I heard, when the carriage stopped at the door, was a noisy demonstration of joy from Peter. He thenceforward resumed all his usual habits, barking on all occasions; but he never was quite the same in disposition. He grew indifferent to every one except my brother, never played again; and four years after was found dead in his corner of refuge.

But it is not in a mournful light alone that we must view the Scotch, or indeed any other terrier; for they are the most untiring playful beings under the sun. I picked up a poor little expiring puppy by the edge of a pond one day, recovered him, brought him up, and there never was a more faithful or amusing beast. He proved to be a shaggy Scotch terrier; and his heedless youth had to undergo many corrections before he became the perfect model of obedience which his maturity presented. One of his misdemeanours was, to kill the young chickens. The woman who managed the poultry could not imagine why these little creatures died so fast, and at first suspected that they picked up and swallowed something which poisoned them. She, however, opened one, and did not find anything in it which confirmed her suspicions; but the feathers were ruffled on the back of the neck, and she was then convinced that they were destroyed by a much larger animal than themselves. She watched for some days; and at length saw Mr. Bruin, my dog, creep through a little hole in the palings of the yard, and squat himself down, very gravely, as if he had not a thought of mischief in him; presently a little chicken ran past him, snap went Bruin at the back of its neck, and giving it a toss over his head as he would a rat, the little thing was dead. Another was served in the same way; and I was then called to inflict the punishment I thought most proper. I was averse to beating him at first, so I pointed to the chicken, and scolded him so much that he appeared to be very sorry for what he had done. But he was then young and giddy, and the impression made was but slight. In three days he returned to his tricks, and I was obliged to chastise him more severely. I tied a dead chicken round his neck, beat him, and shut him up all day in a tool-house, where I visited him several times, pointed to the chicken, and repeated how naughty he was. He was so ashamed that he could not look me in the face, and in the evening, when I released him, he could not eat. He recovered his gaiety in a day or two because he was entirely forgiven; but he never again went into the poultry-yard, and if by chance he saw a chicken, he would hang his head and tail, and walk round it at such a distance, that he evidently recollected his former conduct.

The great friend and playmate of Bruin, was Pincher a very accomplished, smooth terrier, capital dog to go with the hounds, and to kill all sorts of obnoxious animals. If the two appeared to be asleep, and we exclaimed "Cat!" or "Rat!" in one instant they were on their legs, seeking in every direction for their game. They hunted on their own account sometimes, and were often seen with a red spaniel, trotting through the fields, no doubt conspiring together to have a feast. Both Bruin and Pincher were perfectly aware when Sunday came round; and although on other days, when they saw us equipped for a walk, they were most vociferous in their entreaties to go also, on Sunday they hid themselves under the sofa, and never offered to accompany us. They knew where we went, and generally came to meet us on our return, sometimes venturing as far as the gate of the churchyard, which was a mile distant, but never went within the enclosure.

One of my brothers, who was more peculiarly Pincher's master, had a great fancy to be a doctor as he called it; and he chipped various flint stones into fancied instruments. With these he pretended to perform operations on Pincher, who would lie perfectly passive under his hands, to have his teeth drawn, his limbs set, his wounds bandaged, his veins opened. The grand finale used to be an entire cutting up, which the boy copied from the same process practised on pigs. The dog was laid upon a table, with his legs stuck out which he made as stiff as possible. His head was then cut off, and as soon as the flint was passed across his throat, the head fell on one side, and it might have been thought that the dog fancied it was really off, so entirely did he let it lie without motion. The flint was then passed round his legs, each of which fell down without further movement, as close to the body as he could pull them. At last, when all was ended, my brother said, "Jump up, good dog!" and Pincher bounding off the table shook himself to life again.

A favourite terrier was in the habit of accompanying his master, who was a clergyman, to church, where he was so perfectly quiet, that few persons knew of his presence. On one occasion, he went to a funeral, and when the procession left the church, accompanied his master to the side of the grave, where he mingled with the attendants. The parties remained for some little time looking at the coffin after it was lowered, and the clergyman slipped away, unobserved even by his dog. An hour after, as he sat at dinner with his friends, his sexton requested to speak with him. He was admitted into the room, when he said it was impossible to close the grave, and that he did not know what to do. "Why?" asked the gentleman, "Because Sir, your terrier stands there, and flies so fiercely at us whenever we attempt to throw a spade full in, that we dare not go on." One of the house servants was sent to the churchyard, and there saw the dog in a perfect fury, defending the grave; she refused to come to his call, so by main force he removed her, and carried her to the drawing-room. There, the moment she saw her master, her transport of joy equalled her former fury; and it is supposed that, not seeing her master go away, and missing him, she fancied he was in the grave, and thus strove to protect him from injury.

The same dog and a companion, equally faithful and sagacious, attached themselves to their master's horse, and whenever they could, went out with it. He rode out on it to dinner, the two dogs with him, who went contentedly into the stable with their friend. He ordered his horse when it was time to go away; but as it was a long while coming to the door, inquiries were made about the delay, upon which the groom appeared, and said he dared not take the horse out of the stable, for one of the clergyman's dogs was on its back, and the other by its side, flying at every person who came near the animal. The owner comprehended the mystery, and going to the stable himself, brought forth the steed: the groom was a stranger, and the dogs dared not trust him with their master's property.

A terrier, known to Professor Owen, was taught to play at hide and seek with his master, who summoned him, by saying "Let us have a game," upon which the dog immediately hid his eyes between his paws, in the most honourable manner, and when the gentleman had placed a sixpence, or a piece of cake in a most improbable place, he started up and invariably found it. His powers were equalled by what was called a Fox-terrier, named Fop, who would hide his eyes, and suffer those at play with him to conceal themselves before he looked up. If his playfellow hid himself behind a window curtain, Fop would, for a certain time, carefully pass that curtain, and look behind all the others, behind doors, etc., and when he thought he had looked long enough, seize the concealing curtain and drag it aside in triumph. The drollest thing, however, was to see him take his turn of hiding; he would get under a chair, and fancy that he was not seen; of course, those at play with him pretended not to see him, and it was most amusing to witness his agitation as they passed. When he was ill he had been cured by some homœopathic globules, and ever after, if anything were the matter with him, he would stand near the medicine box, and hold his mouth open.

A black and tan terrier, belonging to a linen-draper in Swindon, directly the shop was opened in the morning, was in the habit of going to the post-office with his master; the letter bag was put into his mouth, and he carried it home. One morning he took it into his head to precede his master, and go alone. The post-master, on seeing him, felt so certain his owner was at the door, that he delivered the bag to him, with which he ran home while his master was seeking him. From that time it became his regular duty to fetch the letters daily.

Sir Walter Scott tells us of the remarkable comprehension of human language evinced by his Bull-dog terrier, called Camp. He understood so many words, that Sir Walter felt convinced an intercourse with dumb animals might be enlarged. Camp once, bit the baker, for which Sir Walter beat him, and, at the same time, explained the enormity of the offence; after which, to the last moment of his life, he never heard the least allusion to the story, in whatever voice or tone it might be mentioned, without getting up and retiring into the darkest corner of the room, with great appearance of distress. Then, if it were said that the baker had been well paid, or that the baker was not hurt after all, Camp came forward, capered, barked, and rejoiced. When he was unable, towards the end of his life, to attend his master in his rides, he watched for his return, and the servant used to tell him Sir Walter was coming down the hill, or through the moor, Camp never mistook him, although he did not use any gesture, but either went out at the front to ascend the hills, or at the back to get at the moor side.

These anecdotes, taken from many others concerning Terriers, cannot be better ended than by some concerning a Russian terrier. As I once was acquainted with an inimitable monkey, named Jack, so do I now know an inimitable dog of that name. He is small, white, with some quaintly placed dark brown spots on the body and head; his eyes are of the most brilliant black, he is slightly and genteelly made, and he has a quantity of curling hair on his back only, which gives him a peculiar appearance. He formerly resided in Ireland with the mother of his present possessor, to whom he evinced that devoted attachment which ought to be named canine, for there is nothing equal to it in any other animal. This lady was ill for some years before her death, and could only take exercise in an invalid chair. When she was ready to go out, she would say, "Now, Jack, I am ready for the chair," upon which he immediately scampered off to the stables, placed himself in the vehicle, and was dragged to the door. Then he got out till his mistress was placed comfortably in it, when he seated himself at her feet. If they went through the garden, the carriage was stopped at Jack's favourite beds of flowers, for he had a remarkable fancy, like a cat, to enjoy their perfume; mignonette being always a source of delight. On one occasion, in Dublin, he was lost; sought for, and met in the arms of a policeman, who was carrying him home. The man said he had actually delivered himself up at the station, for he came into the room where several men were seated, looked at one of them, as he stood at his feet, and quietly suffered his collar to be inspected and himself taken up and carried.

He entered the drawing-room where his two mistresses were sitting, and made signs for one of them to go to the door. She did not heed his request; upon which he pulled her gown with his teeth, and she, thinking he must have some extraordinary reason for it, then followed him; the instant she opened the door wide, he squatted himself in the middle of the mat placed there, thumping the floor with his tail; before him lay six dead rats, which he had killed and brought to be seen, they being laid out, rat fashion, in due form, and he displaying his prowess with great pleasure. Jack went to Torquay with his young mistress, where he was one day lying in the balcony, enjoying the sea breezes. An Italian came past with his organ, and a monkey; he stopped before Jack, and suffered his monkey to climb the pillars which supported the balcony and enter. Jack never tamely suffered the intrusion of strangers; but such a stranger as this was beyond all patience; he seized him, shook him; the poor monkey squealed, the Italian bawled out for his companion, and Jack's mistress rushed to the window and rescued the unfortunate creature, just time enough to save him from Jack's final gripe. Some days after this, Jack was walking out with his mistress's brother, who was a great invalid, when the sound of an organ saluted his ears. In one moment he came up with it, seized the accompanying monkey between his teeth, and dashed past his astonished master, with the hind legs of the creature hanging out on one side, and the feathered hat on the other. In vain did the gentleman call; Jack either did not hear or did not heed; he took his way to the stable where his master's horse was kept, and would have immolated the monkey, had not the grooms there saved him from death. The invalid and the owner of the monkey arrived at the same moment, each delighted at the safety of the poor victim. Jack, to this day, cannot endure an organ or a monkey.

The Pariah dogs of India, when wild, occupy the woods in numerous packs; they have long backs, pointed ears, sharp noses, and fringed tails. Their fondness for human beings is very remarkable; and they will attach themselves to a stranger, and not suffer any ill-usage to keep them at a distance. One was known to follow a gentleman travelling in a palanquin till he dropped from fatigue. There is a minute variety, white, with long silky hair, like a lap dog, and this is trained to carry flambeaux and lanterns. Bishop Heber gives an account of a poor Pariah dog, who followed him during a part of his journey through India. He ordered the cook to give him some scraps, and the animal strongly attached himself to the bishop. When the party were obliged to cross a rapid river, at rather a dangerous ford, the dog was so frightened at the black roaring water, that he sat down by the side and howled piteously, as the bishop went over. He, however, assumed courage to follow; but was again distressed when one of the Sepoys was missing; he ran back to the spot, and howled, returned to the bishop, then back to summon the defaulter, and continued this till the man had rejoined his party.

The bishop relates a story of one of these dogs who, being in search of water, thrust his head into an earthen jar, and could not get it out again; he rushed about in all directions, bellowing and howling in the most fearful manner. The guard sprang to their feet, and stood prepared to encounter an enemy, whose approach they thought was announced by the blast of a war-horn. Halters were broken, and horses and mules pranced over the tent ropes; and it was some minutes before the cause of this confusion was ascertained.

A massive form, arched skull, deep lower jaw, strong legs and neck, semi-hanging ears, truncated tail, and frequent presence of a fifth toe, distinguish the noble Mastiff. They are silent, phlegmatic dogs, conscious of their own strength, seem to consider themselves more as companions than servants, are resolute, and face danger with the utmost self-possession. A cold region, such as the highest ranges of Central Asia, is best adapted to their perfect development, and yet their only wild type is met with in Africa. They are old denizens of Great Britain, and are said to have been brought here before the Romans conquered the country. They are not supposed to have come originally from Africa, but from Thibet, through the north of Europe.

They have been known to conquer lions; and yet, while they possess the most indomitable strength and courage, they are the gentlest of animals, suffering children to sit upon them, pull them roughly, and small dogs to snap and snarl at them. Confinement alone disturbs their temper. They are excellent guardians, and such is their deliberate coolness, that they have been known to walk quietly by the side of a thief without doing him an injury, merely preventing his escape. They will, however, suffer the rogue to go away, if he has not already purloined anything.

It is well known that dogs love to be in a crowd of people, and this is frequently the temptation for them to enter churches. A number of dogs, in a village of Bohemia, had followed this practice, including an English mastiff, belonging to a nobleman who lived there. A magistrate who presided at a Court, observed upon it, and said, in an authoritative voice, "No dogs shall be allowed to go to church, let me not see one there in future." The mastiff was present, and seemed to listen with attention, not without effect, for on the ensuing Sunday, he, rising early, ran barking at the village dogs, took his station near the door of the church, killed the only dog that ventured in, notwithstanding the prohibition; and always posted himself as a sentinel on duty, before the church, but without ever afterwards entering it.

An English gentleman, some time ago, went to some public gardens, at St. Germain, with a large mastiff, who was refused admittance, and the gentleman left him in the care of the bodyguards, who were placed there. The Englishman, some time after he had entered, returned to the gate, and informed the guards that he had lost his watch, telling the sergeant, that if he would permit him to take in the dog, he would soon discover the thief. His request being granted, the gentleman made signs to the dog of what he had lost, who immediately ran about among the company, and traversed the gardens, till at last he laid hold of a man. The gentleman insisted that this person had his watch; and, on being searched, not only his watch, but six others, were discovered in his pockets. What is more remarkable, the dog took his master's watch from the other six, and carried it to him. This is rather an old story, but it is an excellent example of the sagacity of the mastiff.

The following anecdote has been sent to me while writing the above, by the gentleman who witnessed the occurrence, and, as Glaucous was half a mastiff, I insert it in this place:—

"An Irish gentleman, possessed a couple of immense dogs, male and female, half Newfoundland, half mastiff, which were celebrated for their sagacity, courage, and high-training. They were, in the most comprehensive sense, amphibious, and their home being near the sea, they spent many hours daily in the water.

"One day a young gentleman, related to the owner of these dogs, and to whom the male, who was called Glaucous, had attached himself with the ardent affection so characteristic of his species, was walking on the shore with him. It was nearly low water, and a sand-bank, covered during high tide, was visible at some hundred yards distance from the shore. His attention was drawn to this object, from the circumstance of the water being in a state of commotion around it, while the sea elsewhere was perfectly placid. On further examination, he discovered that some large fish was chasing a shoal of whiting, and in his eagerness to capture his prey, he more than once ran on the sand-bank.

"Directing the dog's attention to these objects, he was encouraged to swim to the sand-bank, which he soon attained, and he had not been there a minute, before the large fish made another dash almost under his nose. The dog immediately pursued the fish; and ere it had reached the deep water he seized it by the shoulders, and bore it to the sand-bank. The fish, however, remained far from passive under such treatment, for as soon as it was released, it opened its large jaws, and bit the dog so fiercely as to cause his muzzle to be crimsoned with blood.

"A few struggles brought the fish again into his own element, in which he quickly disappeared. But the dog, though severely bitten, was not discomfited. A cheering call from his young friend, was followed by his dashing into the water after his finny foe, and diving, he reappeared with the fish trailing from his jaws. Again he bore him to the sand-bank, and again the fish made good use of his teeth.

"But it was evident that the struggle could not be much longer continued. Availing himself of every opportunity, the dog used his powerful tusks with terrible effect on the fish's shoulders, and at last, taking a good gripe of his prey, he set off for the shore. When about halfway, the fish managed to break loose, but Glaucous was too quick for him, and once more seizing him, he landed his prize with all the apparent triumph evinced by a veteran angler, who secures a monster salmon after a lengthy battle. The fish turned out to be a hake; it weighed seventeen pounds, and when opened was found completely filled with whitings."

The Bull-dog, with his truncated nose, his broad mouth, red eyelids, large head, forehead sinking between the eyes, nose rising, under-jaw projecting, often showing the teeth, and thick make, has not those outward characters which compose beauty.

Their heads have always black about them; but the rest is brindled, buff, ochry, or white. They are said to be less sagacious than other dogs, and less capable of attachment; but their great strength, their courage, and extreme pertinacity in keeping hold when they have once taken a gripe, makes them most valuable for completing the packs of hounds trained to hunt boars, wolves, and still larger animals. When excited they are terrific in appearance, and were formerly used for bull-baiting in this country. In Spain and Corsica, where this practice is still continued, they may be seen in all their strength and power. I have been told they are gentle when not engaged in their cruel sport.

The Pug has been by some considered as a variety of the bull-dog, and others reject this opinion. His round head, grotesquely abbreviated muzzle, and small, tightly curled tail, they think, entitling him to a place of his own among dogs. Authorities state that he is a cross, ill-tempered little dog, but my own experience contradicts this. The two with whom I have come in frequent contact, have been remarkably playful and good-natured. One was the pet of a lady; and his bringing up ought to have made him gentlemanly; but he had several low tricks in the eating way; such as stealing from the scullery, which used to provoke his mistress. His place for hiding the purloined dainties was under the pillow of her bed, and frequently at her nightly examination of the spot, she found, not only bones, but dead mice.

Pug number two, was a very clever fellow, who used to walk out by himself every day, and when he wished to re-enter the house, he always rang the door bell; either by shaking the wire with his paw, or taking it between his teeth. He was clever in fetching what was wanted from distant parts of the house, but was very much afraid of being by himself in the dark. He had formed a great friendship with a kitten, and the two used to bask together before the fire. If Pug were told to fetch some article from the bed-room, after the house was closed for the night, he insisted on having puss's companionship. If she were unwilling to move, he dragged her along with his mouth, and frequently mounted several stairs with her, before she gave consent to the proceeding.

Multitudes of anecdotes exist, which have been handed down to us, as relating to dogs, without any information of the species of the principal actors, as in the following instances.

The fire dog, only just dead, was to be seen at almost every conflagration in London, either mounted on the engine, or tearing along by its side, seeming to think his presence necessary on all such occasions. He was well known at all the engine stations, though he did not belong to, or derive his support from any individual. There is now a dog, at the Temple, which belongs to the inn, and not to any one person; he is a mongrel, is fed wherever he chooses to ask, and is to be seen everywhere within the precincts of the place. Dogs have frequently been known to attach themselves to regiments, in the same manner. One named Battalion, belonged to the first regiment of Royal Guards in France. Being always stationed at the guard-house, he remained there. The frequent change of masters was of no importance to him; he did not even go to the barracks; and considered himself as the property of twelve soldiers, two corporals, a sergeant, and a drummer, whoever they might happen to be; but if the regiment changed garrison, he installed himself at the new guard-house. He never took any notice of those who did not wear the same uniform.

The histories of the smuggling dogs on the frontiers of France, are well known, but these smugglers are now almost all destroyed. The extent to which this illicit commerce was carried, was enormous. Dogs notions of property, however, are often very scrupulous; a lady at Bath found her way impeded as she walked by a dog, who had discovered the loss of her veil, though she had not; the animal had left his own master to seek it for her; he found it, and then returned to his owner. They often shew a presentiment of danger, and gave notice of the earthquake at Gabaluasco in 1835, by leaving the town, also at Concepcion, in the same manner.

Some dogs have a great antipathy to music, others only to certain tones, and I have known a dog who always set up a howl at particular passages. There was one who, before the great revolution in France, used to march with the band at the Thuileries because he liked it, and at night frequented the opera and other theatres.

The most surprising histories told of dogs are concerning their speech. Liebnitz reported to the French Academy of Sciences, that a dog had been taught to modulate his voice, so that he could distinctly ask for coffee, tea, and chocolate. After this we may believe that a dog was learning to say Elizabeth. I have often watched for such sounds, from energetic, clever dogs, who have evidently tried vivâ voce to make me acquainted with some circumstance, but never heard anything intelligible, and I cannot imagine that the organs of speech are bestowed upon a favoured few; without which the articulation of words must be impossible.

Volumes might be filled with these anecdotes of dogs, but I will here conclude my list with the picture given by Mr. St. John of his pets, portraying a happiness which contrasts strongly with the miserable condition of many ill-used animals, belonging to hard-hearted masters, who perform valuable services, and are yet kicked, spurned, or half-starved.

"Opposite the window of the room I am in at present," says this gentleman, "are a monkey and five dogs basking in the sun, a blood-hound, a Skye terrier, a setter, a Russian poodle, and a young Newfoundland, who is being educated as a retriever. They all live in great friendship with the monkey, who is now in the most absurd manner searching the poodle's coat for fleas, lifting up curl by curl, and examining the roots of the hair. Occasionally, if she thinks that she has pulled the hair, or lifted one of his legs rather too roughly, she looks the dog in the face with an inquiring expression to see if he be angry. The dog, however, seems rather to enjoy the operation, and, showing no symptoms of displeasure, the monkey continues her search; and when she sees a flea, catches it in the most active manner, looks at it for a moment, and then eats it with great relish. Having exhausted the game on the poodle, she jumps on the back of the blood-hound, and having looked into her face to see how she will bear it, begins a new search, but, finding nothing, goes off for a game at romps with the Newfoundland dog. While the blood-hound, hearing the voice of one of the children, to whom she has taken a particular fancy, walks off to the nursery. The setter lies dozing and dreaming of grouse; while the little terrier sits with ears pricked up, listening to any sounds of dog or man that she may hear; occasionally she trots off on three legs to look at the back door of the house, for fear any rat-hunt, or fun of that sort may take place without her being invited. Why do Highland terriers so often run on three legs, particularly when bent on any mischief? Is it to keep one in reserve in case of emergencies? I never had a Highland terrier who did not hop along constantly on three legs, keeping one of the hind legs up as if to give it rest."

A proof of the sudden attachments which dogs will form, is given by Mr. Murray, to whom the dog of his guide took a fancy. Mr. Murray passed the night in the house of his master, fed him, and the animal sat looking up in his face. The next morning the party started on foot to cross the Pyrenees, and when the guide had fulfilled his agreement and received his reward, he took his leave; the dog, however, followed Mr. Murray, and no threats or entreaties could prevail on him to turn back. He proceeded to an inn with his new friend, and Mr. Murray was making a bargain with the innkeeper to send the dog to his owner, when a boy came from the man, to claim the beast. He followed the boy two or three times for a few yards, and invariably returned. A strong cord was then tied round his neck, and the boy was told to lead him with that; but at a little distance, finding that he could not get rid of the cord, the dog leaped upon the boy, threw him down, dragged the cord out of his hand, and returned to Mr. Murray. After this it seemed inevitable that they should travel together. Mr. Murray sent for the master, bought the dog, and eventually took him to Scotland, having a place secured for him always in the diligence; and from the moment he arrived, he became the pet of the family.

Another instance of the same feeling in dogs, occurred to a sporting traveller in Norway (Mr. Lloyd, if I mistake not) to whom the dog of a peasant took the same sudden liking.

[4] Boyle.

WOLVES.

[Top]

Strong, gaunt, ferocious, cunning, cowardly, and sinister-looking, wolves (Canis Lupus) still inhabit the forest and mountainous districts of Europe, Asia, and America; a few being occasionally met with in plains. Happily they have been extirpated from Great Britain and Ireland, but in many parts of populous countries on the European Continent, an unusually severe winter brings them to the habitations of man.

Their resemblance to dogs, internally and externally, has led to the supposition, that they were the original parents of the latter; but I have elsewhere alluded to this unsettled question.

The muscles of the head, neck, and shoulders of wolves, are extremely powerful, and the snap with which they bite is never to be mistaken, being apparently peculiar to them. They drink by suction, and it is said, that if the offspring which they have by a dog, should lap, they take a dislike to it. The cry which they make is not a regular bark, but a hoarse, ugly noise, and the howl which they delight in setting up at night, is one of the most melancholy sounds possible. They vary much in colour, being white, black, grey, brown, etc. Their digitigrade walk, sharp muzzle, oblique eyes, and hanging tail, in their wild state, are less conspicuous in domestication, and they then gradually assimilate themselves in appearance to our hounds.

Innumerable are the true histories which have been transmitted to us concerning wolves. Their nightly prowling, their quiet, untiring perseverance in pursuit, their skulking disposition, their artful stratagems, all impart a mystery to them which has been heightened by fear, and the natural proneness of man to magnify tales of horror.

Wolves are too suspicious to be often taken in traps; and when pursued they run with their noses almost touching the ground, their eyes glowing like fire, the hair of their head and neck bristled up, their tail drawn close to their legs. Their usual height at the shoulders is about two feet and a half; their young are born in caverns or gloomy recesses, and the female wolf is furious in their defence. They often fight with each other; and it is said, if a wounded wolf come among his fellows, he is immediately torn in pieces and devoured.

Mr. Lloyd, in his "Field Sports in the North of Europe," tells us of a peasant who, in the neighbourhood of St. Petersburgh, met with the following narrow escape:—"He was pursued by eleven of these ferocious animals, while he was in his sledge. At this time he was only about two miles from home, towards which he urged his horse at the very top of his speed. At the entrance of his residence was a gate, which happened to be closed at the time; but the horse dashed this open, and thus his master and himself found refuge in the courtyard. They were followed, however, by nine out of the eleven wolves; but very fortunately, at the very instant these had entered the enclosure, the gate swung back on its hinges, and thus they were caught as in a trap. From being the most ferocious of animals, now that they found escape impossible, they completely changed, and so far from offering molestation to any one, they slunk into holes and corners, and allowed themselves to be slaughtered, almost without making resistance."

A more tragic occurrence happened to an unfortunate woman, also in Russia, and is related by the same gentleman:—"A woman, accompanied by three of her children, was one day in a sledge, when they were pursued by a number of wolves. She put the horse into a gallop, and drove towards her home with the utmost speed. She was not far from it; but the ferocious animals gained upon her, and were on the point of rushing on to the sledge. For the preservation of her own life, and that of the remaining children, the poor, frantic creature cast one of them to her blood-thirsty pursuers. This stopped their career for a moment; but, after devouring the poor child, they renewed the pursuit, and a second time came up with the vehicle. The mother, driven to desperation, resorted to the same horrible expedient, and threw another of her offspring to her ferocious assailants. The third child was also sacrificed in the same way, and soon after, the wretched being reached her home in safety. Here she related what had happened, and endeavoured to palliate her own conduct, by describing the dreadful alternative to which she had been reduced. A peasant, however, who was among the bystanders, and heard the recital, took up an axe, and with one blow cleft her skull in two, saying, at the same time, 'that a mother who could thus sacrifice her children for the preservation of her own life, was no longer fit to live.' The man was committed to prison, but the Emperor subsequently granted him a pardon."