CHAPTER III.

THE VARIETIES OF THE DOG.

SECOND DIVISION.

The head moderately elongated, the parietals not approaching from

their insertion, but rather diverging, so as to enlarge the cerebral

cavities and the frontal sinuses; consequently giving to these dogs

greater power of scent and intelligence. They constitute the most

pleasing and valuable division of the Dog.

The Spaniel is evidently the parent of the Newfoundland dog and the

setter; while the retriever, the poodle, the Bernardine, the Esquimaux,

the Siberian, and the Greenland dogs, the shepherd and drover's dog, and

every variety distinguished for intelligence and fidelity, have more or

less of his blood in them.

THE SPANIEL

is probably of Spanish origin, and thence his name. The ears are large

and pendent, the tail elevated, the fur of a different length in

different parts of the body, but longest about the ears, under the neck,

behind the thighs and on the tail, varying in colour, but most commonly

white with brown or black patches.

There are many varieties of the spaniel. The smallest of the 'land'

spaniels is

THE COCKER.

It is chiefly used in flushing woodcocks and pheasants in thickets and

copses into which the setter, and even the springer, can scarcely enter.

"But, if the shady woods my cares employ,

In quest of feathered game my spaniels beat,

Puzzling the entangled copse, and from the brake

Push forth the whirring pheasant."

The cocker is here very useful, although he is occasionally an

exceedingly impatient animal. He is apt to whimper and babble as soon as

he comes upon the scent of game, and often raises the bird before the

sportsman is within reach: but when he is sufficiently broken in not to

give tongue until the game rises, he is exceedingly valuable. There can

scarcely be a prettier object than this little creature, full of

activity, and bustling in every direction, with his tail erect; and, the

moment he scents the bird, expressing his delight by the quivering of

every limb, and the low eager whimpering which the best breaking cannot

always subdue.

Presently the bird springs, and then he shrieks out his ecstasy,

startling even the sportsman with his sharp, shrill, and strangely

expressive bark.

The most serious objection to the use of the cocker is the difficulty of

teaching him to distinguish his game, and confine himself within bounds;

for he will too often flush everything that comes within his reach. It

is often the practice to attach bells to his collar, that the sportsman

may know where he is; but there is an inconvenience connected with this,

that the noise of the bells will often disturb and spring the game

before the dog comes fairly upon it.

Patience and perseverance, with a due mixture of kindness and

correction, will, however, accomplish a great deal in the tuition of the

well-bred spaniel. He may at first hunt about after every bird that

presents itself, or chase the interdicted game; but, if he is

immediately called in and rated, or perhaps corrected, but not too

severely, he will learn his proper lesson, and will recognise the game,

to which alone his attention must be directed. The grand secret in

breaking in these dogs is mildness, mingled with perseverance, the

lessons being enforced, and practically illustrated by the example of an

old and steady dog.

These spaniels will sometimes vie with almost every other species of dog

in intelligence, and will not yield to one of them in fidelity. A

gentleman in Sussex had an old cocker, that was his constant companion,

both in the house and the field. If the morning was rainy, the dog was

perfectly quiet; if it was fine, he became restless, and, at the usual

time for his master to go out, he would take him by the flap of his

coat, and gently pull at it. If the door was opened, he ran immediately

to the keeper's lodge, which was at a considerable distance from the

house. This was a signal for the other dogs to be brought up, and then

he trotted back to announce their approach.

[This beautiful and interesting dog, so called from his peculiar

suitableness for woodcock shooting, is but little known among us except

as a boudoir companion for our ladies. He is, nevertheless, extensively

used in England by sportsmen for finding and flushing this bird, as also

the pheasant; and no doubt, if introduced into our country, would prove

equally, if not more serviceable, in putting up game concealed in the

thickets and marshy hollows of our uncleared grounds. Having extremely

fine scenting powers, they are also employed in greyhound coursing, to

give warning of the proximity of a hare, which they seldom fail to

accomplish.

This active little animal hunts with great spirit, and soon becomes

attached to the sport; in fact the only difficulty to be overcome in

breaking him, is the effort it requires to make him suppress his natural

ardour and withhold his exclamations of delight till the bird is

actually on the wing. The tutelage of the cocker intended for the field

should commence as early as possible, and is not, as many suppose,

attended with great difficulty. His first lessons should be confined to

the art of bringing and carrying, which he soon, in common with all the

other members of the spaniel tribe, learns. The next thing to be

inculcated is implicit obedience to our wishes; then, at the age of four

months or so, he may be carried to the field, where his natural fondness

for hunting will soon be developed by his chasing every bird within his

reach. When this impulse is fully exhibited, and the dog expresses

gratification in the amusement, he should be then instructed to give

chase, or not, at his master's pleasure. When this desirable end has

been accomplished, he may be introduced to the particular kinds of game

which it is proposed to hunt him on, and by slow degrees teach him to

confine his attentions to those varieties alone. It is absolutely

necessary that the dog be forced to hunt as near to the sportsman as

possible, otherwise the game will be flushed at such a distance that it

will be impossible to get at it. The cocker spaniel is much smaller than

the springer; his ears are long, pendulous, and silky; his body round

and compact; his legs short and tufted; his coat variable; his nose

black; tail bushy and feathered, and, when hunting, is kept in constant

motion.

Some are black and white, others liver colour and yellow; the latter

variety we have most usually seen in this country, and some of them have

been represented to us as well-broken and serviceable dogs.--L.]

THE KING CHARLES'S SPANIEL,

so called from the fondness of Charles II for it--who usually had some

of them following him, wherever he went--belongs likewise to the

cockers. Its form and character are well preserved in one of the

paintings of the unfortunate parent of that monarch and his family. The

ears deeply fringed and sweeping the ground, the rounder form of the

forehead, the larger and moister eye, the longer and silken coat, and

the clearness of the tan, and white and black colour, sufficiently

distinguish this variety. His beauty and diminutive size have consigned

him to the drawing-room or parlour.

Charles the First had a breed of spaniels, very small, with the hair

black and curly. The spaniel of the second Charles was of the black and

tan breed.

The King Charles's breed of the present day is materially altered for

the worse. The muzzle is almost as short, and the forehead as ugly and

prominent, as the veriest bull-dog. The eye is increased to double its

former size, and has an expression of stupidity with which the character

of the dog too accurately corresponds. Still there is the long ear, and

the silky coat, and the beautiful colour of the hair, and for these the

dealers do not scruple to ask twenty, thirty, and even fifty guineas.

[This breed of dog was cultivated with such jealous care by the late

Duke of Norfolk, that no solicitation or entreaty could induce this

nobleman to part with one of these favourites, except under certain

peculiar stipulations and injunctions, as detailed in the following

interview of Mr. Blain with the late Duchess of York. "On one occasion,

when we were accompanying Her Royal Highness to her menagerie, with

almost a kennel of canine favourites behind her, after drawing our

attention to a jet black pug pup she had just received from Germany, she

remarked that she was going to show me what she considered a present of

much greater rarity, which was a true King Charles's breed sent to her

by the Duke of Norfolk. 'But,' she observed, 'would you believe he could

be so ungallant as to write word that he must have a positive promise

not from myself, but from the Duke of York, that I should not breed from

it in the direct line?'" Notwithstanding these selfish restrictions on

the part of this noble patron of the spaniel, this breed of dog has

become quite common in England, and not a few have found their way to

this country.--L.]

THE SPRINGER

This dog is slower and steadier in its range than the cocker; but it is

a much safer dog for the shooter, and can better stand a hard day's

work. The largest and best breed of springers is said to be in Sussex,

and is much esteemed in the Wealds of that county.

From a cross with the terrier a black and tan variety was procured,

which was cultivated by the late Duke of Norfolk, and thence called the

Norfolk Spaniel. It is larger than the common springer, and stancher,

and stouter. It often forms a strong individual attachment, and is

unhappy and pines away when separated from its master. It is more

ill-tempered than the common springer, and, if not well broken in, is

often exceedingly obstinate.

[Mr. Skinner informs us that this breed, in its greatest purity, may be

found in the Carrollton family, as also in the possession of Mr.

Keyworth of Washington city.--L.]

THE BLACK AND TAN SPANIEL,

the cross of the terrier being nearly or quite got rid of, is often a

beautiful animal, and is much valued, although it is frequently

considered a somewhat stupid animal. The cocker and the springer are

sometimes used as finders in coursing.

THE BLENHEIM SPANIEL,

a breed cultivated by one of the Dukes of Marlborough, belongs to this

division. From its beauty, and occasional gaiety, it is oftener an

inhabitant of the drawing-room than the field; but it occasionally

breaks out, and shows what nature designed it for. Some of these

carpeted pets acquit themselves nobly in the covert. There they ought

oftener to be; for they have not much individuality of attachment to

recommend them, and, like other spoiled animals, both quadruped and

biped, misbehave. The breed has degenerated of late, and is not always

to be had pure, even in the neighbourhood of Blenheim. This spaniel may

he distinguished by the length and silkiness of the coat, the deep

fringe about the ear, the arch and deep-feathering of the tail, the full

and moist eye, and the blackness of the palate.

THE WATER-SPANIEL.

Of this breed there are two varieties, a larger and smaller, both useful

according to the degree of range or the work required; the smaller,

however, being ordinarily preferable. Whatever be his general size,

strength and compactness of form are requisite. His head is long, his

face smooth, and his limbs, more developed than those of the springer,

should be muscular, his carcase round, and his hair long and closely

curled. Good breaking is more necessary here than even with the

land-spaniel, and, fortunately, it is more easily accomplished; for, the

water-spaniel, although a stouter, is a more docile animal than the land

one.

Docility and affection are stamped on his countenance, and he rivals

every other breed in his attachment to his master. His work is double;

first to find, when ordered so to do, and to back behind the sportsman

when the game will be more advantageously trodden up. In both he must be

taught to be perfectly obedient to the voice, that he may be kept within

range, and not unnecessarily disturb the birds. A more important part of

his duty, however, is to find and bring the game that has dropped. To

teach him to find is easy enough, for a young water-spaniel will as

readily take to the water as a pointer puppy will stop; but to bring his

game without tearing is a more difficult lesson, and the most difficult

of all is to make him suspend the pursuit of the wounded game while the

sportsman re-loads.

The water-spaniel was originally from Spain; but the pure breed has been

lost, and the present dog is probably descended from the large water-dog

and the English setter.

The water and land spaniels differ materially from each other. The

water-spaniel, although when at his work being all that his master can

desire, is, when unemployed, comparatively a slow and inactive dog; but

under this sobriety of demeanor is concealed a strength and fidelity of

attachment to which the more lively land-spaniel cannot always lay just

claim. The writer of this work once saved a young water-spaniel from the

persecution of a crowd of people who had driven it into a passage, and

were pelting it with stones. The animal had the character of being,

contrary to what his species usually are, exceedingly savage; and he

suffered himself to be taken up by me and carried from his foes with a

kind of sullenness; but when, being out of the reach of danger, he was

put down, he gazed on his deliverer, and then crouched at his feet.

From that moment he attached himself to his new master with an intensity

of affection scarcely conceivable--never expressed by any boisterous

caresses, but by endeavouring to be in some manner in contact with him;

resting his head upon his foot; lying upon some portion of his apparel,

his eye intently fixed upon him; endeavouring to understand every

expression of his countenance. He would follow one gentleman, and one

only, to the river-side, and behave gallantly and nobly there; but the

moment he was dismissed he would scamper home, gaze upon his master, and

lay himself down at his feet. In one of these excursions he was shot. He

crawled home, reached his master's feet, and expired in the act of

licking his hand.

Perhaps the author may be permitted to relate one story more of the

water-spaniel: he pledges himself for its perfect truth. The owner of

the dog is telling this tale.

"I was once on the sea-coast, when a small, badly-formed, and leaky

fishing-boat was cast on shore, on a fearful reef of rocks. Three men

and a boy of ten years old constituted the crew. The men swam on

shore, but they were so bruised against the rocks, that they could not

render any assistance to the poor boy, and no person could be found to

venture out in any way. I heard the noise and went to the spot with my

dog. I spoke to him, and in he went, more like a seal than a dog, and

after several fruitless attempts to mount the wreck he succeeded, and

laid hold of the boy, who clung to the ropes, screaming in the most

fearful way at being thus dragged into the water. The waves dashed

frightfully on the rocks. In the anxiety and responsibility of the

moment I thought that the dog had missed him, and I stripped off my

clothes, resolved to render what assistance I could. I was just in the

act of springing from the shore, having selected the moment when the

receding waves gave me the best chance of rendering any assistance,

when I saw old 'Bagsman,' for that was the name of my dog, with the

struggling boy in his mouth, and the head uppermost. I rushed to the

place where he must land, and the waves bore the boy and the dog into

my arms.

"Some time after that I was shooting wild-fowl. I and my dog had been

working hard, and I left him behind me while I went to a neighbouring

town to purchase gunpowder. A man, in a drunken frolic, had pushed off

in a boat with a girl in it; the tide going out carried the boat

quickly away, and the man becoming frightened, and unable to swim,

jumped overboard. Bagsman, who was on the spot, hearing the splash,

jumped in, swam out to the man, caught hold of him, and brought him

twenty yards towards the shore, when the drunken fellow clasped the

dog tight round the body, and they both went down together. The girl

was saved by a boat going to her assistance. The body of the man was

recovered about an hour afterwards, with that of the dog clasped tight

in his arms, thus dragging him to the bottom. 'Poor Bagsman! thy worth

deserves to be thus chronicled.'"

THE POODLE.

The particular cross from which this dog descended is unknown, but the

variety produced has been carefully preserved. It is, probably, of

continental origin, and is known by its thick curly hair concealing

almost every part of the face, and giving it the appearance of a short,

thick, unintelligent head. When, however, that hair is removed, there is

still the large head; but there is also the cerebral cavity more

capacious than in any other dog, and the frontal sinuses fully

developed, and exhibiting every indication of the intellectual class to

which it belongs.

It was originally a water-dog, as its long and curly hair, and its

propensities in its domesticated state, prove; but, from its peculiar

sagacity, it is capable of being trained to almost any useful purpose,

and its strong individual attachment renders it more the companion of

man than a mere sporting dog: indeed, its qualities as a sporting dog

are seldom recognised by its owner.

These dogs have far more courage than the water-spaniel, all the

sagacity of the Newfoundland, more general talent, if the expression may

be used, and more individual attachment than either of them, and without

the fawning of the one, or the submissiveness of the other. The poodle

seems conscious of his worth, and there is often a quiet dignity

accompanying his demonstrations of friendship.

This dog, however, possesses a very peculiar kind of intelligence. It

will almost perform the common offices of a servant: it will ring the

bell and open the door. Mr. Wilkie, of Ladythorn in Northumberland, had

a poodle which he had instructed to go through all the apparent agonies

of dying. He would fall on one side, stretch himself out, and move his

hind legs as if he were in great pain; he would next simulate the

convulsive throbs of departing life, and then stretch out his limbs and

thus seem as if he had expired. In this situation he would remain

motionless, until he had his master's command to rise.

The portrait of Sancho, a poodle, that was with difficulty forced from

the grave of his master, after the battle of Salamanca, is familiar to

many of our readers. Enticed from his post he could not be, nor was he

at length taken away until weakened by grief and starvation. He by

degrees attached himself to his new master, the Marquis of Worcester,

but not with the natural ardour of a poodle. He was attentive to every

command, and could perform many little domestic offices. Sometimes he

would exhibit considerable buoyancy of spirit; but there oftener seemed

to be about him the recollection of older and closer friendship.

Another poodle occupies an interesting place in the history of the

Peninsular war. He too belonged to a French officer, who was killed at

the battle of Castella. The French were compelled to retreat before they

could bury their dead, and the soldiers wished to carry with them their

regimental favourite; but he would not be forced from the corpse of his

master. Some soldiers afterwards traversing the field of battle, one of

them discovered the cross of the Legion of Honour on the breast of the

fallen officer, and stooped to take it away, when the dog flew savagely

at him, and would not quit his hold, until the bayonet of another

soldier laid him lifeless.

A veterinary surgeon, who, before any other animal than the horse was

acknowledged to be the legitimate object of medical care, did not

disdain to attend to the diseases of the dog, used to say that there

were two breeds which he never wished to see in his infirmary, namely,

the poodle and the Norfolk spaniel; for, although not always difficult

to manage, he could never attach them to him, but they annoyed him by

their pitiful and imploring gaze during the day, and their mournful

howling at night.

Custom has determined that the natural coat of this animal shall be

taken from him. It may be a relief to the poodle for a part of his coat

to be stripped off in hot weather, and the curly hair which is left on

his chest, contrasted with his smooth and well-rounded loins and

quarters, may make it look pretty enough; but it should he remembered

that he was not designed by nature to be thus exposed to the cold of

winter, and that there are no dogs so liable to rheumatism, and that

rheumatism degenerating into palsy, as the well-trimmed poodle.

THE BARBET

is a small poodle, the production of some unknown and disadvantageous

cross with the true poodle. It has all the sagacity of the poodle, and

will perform even more than his tricks. It is always in action; always

fidgety; generally incapable of much affection, but inheriting much

self-love and occasional ill temper; unmanageable by any one but its

owner; eaten up with red mange; and frequently a nuisance to its master

and a torment to every one else.

We must not, however, do it injustice; it is very intelligent, and truly

attached to its owner.

The barbet possesses more sagacity than most other dogs, but it is

sagacity of a particular kind, and frequently connected with various

amusing tricks. Mr. Jesse, in his Gleanings in Natural History, gives a

singular illustration of this. A friend of his had a barbet that was not

always under proper command. In order to keep him in better order, he

purchased a small whip, with which he corrected him once or twice during

a walk. On his return the whip was put on a table in the hall, but on

the next morning it was missing. It was soon afterwards found concealed

in an out-building, and again made use of in correcting the dog. Once

more it would have been lost, but, on watching the dog, who was

suspected of having stolen it, he was seen to take it from the hall

table in order to hide it once more.

THE MALTESE DOG

can be traced back to an early period. Strabo says that

"there is a town in Sicily called Melita, whence are exported many

beautiful dogs called 'Canes Melitæi'. They were the peculiar

favourites of the women; but now (A.D. 25) there is less account made

of these animals, which are not bigger than common ferrets or weasels,

yet they are not small in understanding nor unstable in their love."

They are also found in Malta and in other islands of the Mediterranean,

and they maintain the same character of being devotedly affectionate to

their owners, while, it is added,--and they are not loved the less for

that,--they are ill-tempered to strangers.

THE LION DOG

is a diminutive likeness of the noble animal whose name it bears. Its

head, neck, shoulders, and fore-legs down to the very feet, are covered

with long, wavy, silky hairs. On the other parts of the dog it is so

short as scarcely to be grasped, except that on the tail there is a

small bush of hair. The origin of this breed is not known; it is,

perhaps, an intermediate one between the Maltese and the Turkish dog.

THE TURKISH DOG,

as it is improperly called, is a native of hot climates. The supposition

of Buffon is not an improbable one, that, being taken from some

temperate country to one considerable hotter, the European dog probably

acquired some cutaneous disease. This is no uncommon occurrence in

Guinea, the East Indies, and South America. Some of these animals

afterwards found their way into Europe, and, from their singularity,

care was taken to multiply the breed. Aldrovandus states that the first

two of them made their appearance in Europe in his time, but the breed

was not continued, on account, as it was supposed, of the climate being

too cold for them.

The few that are occasionally seen in England bear about them every mark

of a degenerated race. They have no activity, and they show little

intelligence or affection. One singular circumstance appertains to all

that the author of this work has had the opportunity of seeing,--their

teeth become very early diseased, and drop from the gums. That eminent

zoologist, Mr. Yarrell, examining, with the author of this work, one

that had died, certainly not more than five years old, found that it had

neither incisors nor canine teeth, and that the molars were reduced to

one on each side, the large tubercular tooth being the only one that was

remaining. At the scientific meeting of the Zoological Society, the same

gentleman stated, that he had examined the mouths of two individuals of

the same variety, then alive at the gardens, in both of which the teeth

were remarkably deficient. In neither of them were there any false

molars, and the incisors in both were deficient in number. Before the

age of four years the tongue is usually disgustingly hanging from the

mouths of these animals.

THE ALPINE SPANIEL, OR BERNARDINE DOG,

is a breed almost peculiar to the Alps, and to the district between

Switzerland and Savoy. The passes over these mountains are exceedingly

dangerous from their steepness and narrowness. A precipice of many

hundred feet is often found on one side, and perpendicular rocks on the

other, while the path is glazed with frozen snow or ice. In many places

the path is overhung with huge masses of frozen snow, which occasionally

loosen and fall, when the dreadful storms peculiar to these regions

suddenly come on, and form an insurmountable barrier, or sweep away or

bury the unfortunate traveller. Should he escape these dangers, the path

is now become trackless, and he wanders amid the dreary solitudes until

night overtakes him; and then, when he pauses from fatigue or

uncertainty with regard to the path he should pursue, his limbs are

speedily benumbed. Fatal slumbers, which he cannot shake off, steal upon

him, and he crouches under some ledge and sleeps, to wake no more. The

snow drifts on. It is almost continually falling, and he is soon

concealed from all human help.

On the top of Mount St. Bernard, and near one of the most dangerous of

these passes, is a convent, in which is preserved a breed of large dogs

trained to search for the benighted and frozen wanderer. Every night,

and particularly when the wind blows tempestuously, some of these dogs

are sent out. They traverse every path about the mountains, and their

scent is so exquisite that they can discover the traveller, although he

may lie many feet deep in the snow. Having found him, they set to work

and endeavour to scrape away the snow, uttering a deep bark that

reverberates from rock to rock, and tells those who are watching in the

convent that some poor wretch is in peril. Generally, a little flask of

spirits is tied round the neck of the animal, by drinking which the

benighted traveller may recruit his strength, until more effectual

rescue arrive. The monks hasten in the direction of the sound, and often

succeed in rekindling the vital spark before it is quite extinguished.

Very many travellers have been thus rescued from death by these

benevolent men and their intelligent and interesting quadruped servants.

One of these Bernardine dogs, named Barry, had a medal tied round his

neck as a badge of honourable distinction, for he had saved the lives of

forty persons. He at length died nobly in his vocation. A Piedmontese

courier arrived at St. Bernard on a very stormy day, labouring to make

his way to the little village of St. Pierre, in the valley beneath the

mountain, where his wife and children lived. It was in vain that the

monks attempted to check his resolution to reach his family. They at

last gave him two guides, each of whom was accompanied by a dog, one of

which was the remarkable creature whose service had been so valuable.

Descending from the convent, they were overwhelmed by two avalanches or

heaps of falling snow, and the same destruction awaited the family of

the poor courier, who were travelling up the mountain in the hope of

obtaining some news of the husband and father.

A beautiful engraving has been made of this noble dog. It represents him

as saving a child which he had found in the Glacier of Balsore, and

cherished, and warmed, and induced to climb on his shoulders, and thus

preserved from, otherwise, certain destruction.

THE NEWFOUNDLAND DOG.

The Newfoundland is a spaniel of large size. He is a native of the

island of which he bears the name; but his history is disgraceful to the

owners of so valuable an animal. The employment of the lower classes of

the inhabitants of St. John, in Newfoundland, is divided between the

cutting of wood, and the drawing of it and other merchandise in the

winter, and fishing in the summer.

The carts used in the winter work are drawn by these dogs, who are

almost invariably urged and goaded on beyond their strength, fed only

with putrid salt-fish, and an inadequate quantity even of that. A great

many of them are worn out and die before the winter is over; and, when

the summer approaches, and the fishing season commences, many of them

are quite abandoned, and, uniting with their companions, prowl about

preying on the neighbouring flocks, or absolutely starving.

Mr. Macgregor, however, states that

"in almost every other part of British America they are valuable and

useful. They are remarkably docile and obedient to their masters,

serviceable in all the fishing countries, and yoked in pairs to draw

the winter's fuel home. They are faithful, good-natured, and ever

friendly to man. They will defend their master and their master's

property, and suffer no person to injure either the one or the other;

and, however extreme may be the danger, they will not leave them for a

minute. They seem only to want the faculty of speech, in order to make

their good wishes and feelings understood, and they are capable of

being trained for all the purposes for which every other variety of

the canine species is used".[1]

That which most recommends the Newfoundland dog is his fearlessness of

water, and particularly as connected with the preservation of human

life. The writer of the present work knows one of these animals that has

preserved from drowning four human beings.

[This breed of dog, though much esteemed both in England and other

portions of the world, as well for his majestic appearance as for many

useful and winning traits of character, has but few sportsmen as patrons

with us. He is not only used in England as a water-dog for the pursuit

of wild fowl, but has been trained by many sportsmen to hunt on

partridges, woodcocks, and pheasants, and is represented by Captain

Hawker and others as surpassing all others of the canine race, in

finding wounded game of every description.

Mr. Blain remarks that,

"as a retriever, the Newfoundland dog is easily brought to do almost

anything that is required of him, and he is so tractable, likewise,

that, with the least possible trouble, he may be safely taken among

pointers to the field, with whose province he will not interfere, but

will be overjoyed to be allowed to look up the wounded game, which he

will do with a perseverance that no speed and no distance can slacken,

nor any hedge-row baulk. In cover he is very useful; some, indeed,

shoot woodcocks to a Newfoundland, and he never shines more than when

he is returning with a woodcock, pheasant, or hare, in his mouth,

which he yields up, or even puts into your hand unmutilated."

Notwithstanding the high commendations of these gentlemen, we cannot

look upon the Newfoundland in any other light than that of a dog, whose

powers of sagacity are destined for display in the water.

In contending with this element, either in the preservation of human

life, or in search of wounded fowl, he has no equal, and volumes might

be filled with accounts of his various daring achievements in this

particular branch, not only in England, but on the rivers of our own

country. Mr. Blain mentions two varieties of these dogs as being common

in England, the Labrador and St. John. The former is very large,

rough-haired, and carries his tail very high; the latter is smaller,

more docile, and sagacious in the extreme, and withal much more

manageable. We were not aware of these varieties, and more particularly

as regards the difference in docility and sagacity, but are convinced,

from subsequent observations, that such is the case even in our own

country, for we have often noticed a great dissimilarity in the size and

appearance of these dogs and attributed it to the effects of the climate

and cross breeding with inferior animals. We are indebted to Mr. Skinner

for bringing before the public a faithful and minute account of two of

these animals imported into this country by Mr. Law, of Baltimore, and

may be pardoned for giving again publicity to this gentleman's letter in

relation to these two sagacious brutes.

BALTIMORE, MARYLAND, January 7th, 1845.

"MY DEAR SIR:--In the fall of 1807 I was on board of the ship Canton,

belonging to my uncle, the late Hugh Thompson, of Baltimore, when we

fell in, at sea, near the termination of a very heavy equinoctial

gale, with an English brig in a sinking condition, and took off the

crew. The brig was loaded with codfish, and was bound to Poole, in

England, from Newfoundland. I boarded her, in command of a boat from

the Canton, which was sent to take off the English crew, the brig's

own boats having been all swept away, and her crew in a state of

intoxication. I found on board of her two Newfoundland pups, male and

female, which I saved, and, subsequently, on our landing the English

crew at Norfolk, our own destination being Baltimore, I purchased

these two pups of the English captain for a guinea a-piece. Being

bound again to sea, I gave the dog-pup, which was called Sailor, to

Mr. John Mercer, of West River; and the slut-pup, which was called

Canton, to Doctor James Stewart, of Sparrow's Point. The history which

the English captain gave me of these pups was, that the owner of his

brig was extensively engaged in the Newfoundland trade, and had

directed his correspondent to select and send him a pair of pups of

the most approved Newfoundland breed, but of different families, and

that the pair I purchased of him were selected under this order. The

dog was of a dingy red colour, and the slut black. They were not

large; their hair was short, but very thick coated; they had dew

claws. Both attained great reputation as water-dogs. They were most

sagacious in everything, particularly so in all duties connected with

duck-shooting. Governor Lloyd exchanged a Mexican ram for the dog at

the time of the merino fever, when such rams were selling for many

hundred dollars, and took him over to his estate on the eastern shore

of Maryland, where his progeny were well known for many years after,

and may still he known there, and on the western shore, as the Sailor

breed. The slut remained at Sparrow's Point till her death, and her

progeny were, and are still, well known through Patapsco Neck, on the

Gunpowder, and up the bay, amongst the duck-shooters, as unsurpassed

for their purposes. I have heard both Doctor Stewart and Mr. Mercer

relate most extraordinary instances of the sagacity and performances

of both dog and slut, and would refer you to their friends for such

particulars as I am unable, at this distance of time, to recollect

with sufficient accuracy to repeat.

Yours, in haste,

GEORGE LAW."

These dogs are represented as being of fine carriage, broad-chested,

compact figure, and in every respect built for strength and activity.

Their patience and endurance were very great when pursuing wounded ducks

through the floating ice, and when fatigued from extraordinary exertions

were known to rest themselves upon broken portions of ice till

sufficiently recovered again to commence the chase. We have seen some of

the descendants of these sagacious animals on the Chesapeake, engaged,

not only in bringing the ducks from the water when shot, but also toling

them into shore within range of the murderous batteries concealed behind

the blind.

This may not be an inappropriate place to speak of this wonderful mode

of decoying ducks, termed toling, so extensively practised upon the

Chesapeake bay and its tributaries, where the canvass-back and red-heads

resort in such numerous quantities every fall. A species of mongrel

water-dog, or often any common cur, is taught to run backwards and

forwards after stones, sticks, or other missiles thrown from one side to

the other. In his activity and industry in this simple branch of

education, within the comprehension of any dog, consists the almost

incredible art of toling the canvass-back.

With a dog of this character, the shooting party, consisting of several

persons all prepared with heavy double-barrelled duck-guns, ensconce

themselves at break of day behind some one of the numerous blinds

temporarily erected along the shore contiguous to the feeding-grounds of

these ducks. Everything being arranged, and the morning mists cleared

off, the ducks will be seen securely feeding on the shallows not less

than several hundreds of yards from the shore. The dog is now put in

motion by throwing stones from one side of the blind to the other. This

will soon be perceived by the ducks, who, stimulated by an extreme

degree of curiosity, and feeling anxious to inform themselves as to this

sudden and singular phenomenon, raise their heads high in the water and

commence swimming for the shore. The dog being kept in motion, the ducks

will not arrest their progress until within a few feet of the water's

edge, and oftentimes will stand on the shore staring, as it were, in

mute and silly astonishment at the playful motions of the dog.

If well trained the dog takes no notice whatever of the duck, but

continues his fascination until the quick report of the battery

announces to him that his services are now wanted in another quarter,

and he immediately rushes into the water to arrest the flight of the

maimed and wounded, who, struggling on every side, dye the water with

their rich blood.

The discovery of this mode of decoying ducks was quite an accident,

being attributed to a circumstance noticed by a sportsman, who,

concealed behind a blind patiently awaiting the near approach of the

canvass-back, observed that they suddenly lifted up their heads and

moved towards the shore. Wondering at this singular and unusual

procedure on the part of this wray bird, he naturally looked round to

discover the cause, and observed a young fox sporting upon the river

bank, and the ducks, all eagerness to gaze upon him, were steering their

course directly for the shore.

These ducks will not only be decoyed by the dog, but will often come in

by waving a fancy coloured handkerchief attached to the ramrod. We have

seen a dog fail to attract their attention till bound around the loins

with a white handkerchief, and then succeed perfectly well. The toling

season continues about three weeks from the first appearance of the

ducks, often a much shorter time, as these birds become more cautious,

and are no longer deceived in this way.

The canvass-back toles better than any other duck; in fact, it is

asserted by many sportsmen, that this particular variety alone can be

decoyed in this mode. There are always numbers of other ducks feeding

with the canvass-back, particularly the red-heads and black-necks, who

partake of the top of the grass that the canvas-back discards after

eating off the root, which is a kind of celery. These ducks, though they

come in with the canvass-back when toled, do not seem to take any notice

whatever of the dog, but continue to swim along, carelessly feeding, as

if entrusting themselves entirely to the guidance of the other ducks.

As far as we have been able to judge, we are inclined to this opinion

also, and do not recollect ever having succeeded in toling any other

species of duck, unaccompanied by the canvass-back, although we have

made the effort many times. These ducks are a very singular bird, and

although very cunning under ordinary circumstances, seem perfectly

bewildered upon this subject, as we were one of a party several years

since, who actually succeeded in decoying the same batch of ducks three

successive times in the course of an hour, and slaying at each fire a

large number, as we counted out over forty at the conclusion of the

sport.

Although the toling of ducks is so simple in its process, there are few

dogs that have sufficient industry and perseverance to arrive at any

degree of perfection in the art. The dog, if not possessed of some

sagacity and considerable training, is very apt to tire and stop running

when the ducks have got near to the shore, but too far to be reached by

the guns, which spoils all, as the birds are very apt to swim or fly off

if the motion of the animal is arrested for a few moments.--L.]

A native of Germany was travelling one evening on foot through Holland,

accompanied by a large dog. Walking on a high bank which formed one side

of a dyke, his foot slipped, and he was precipitated into the water;

and, being unable to swim, soon became senseless. When he recovered his

recollection, he found himself in a cottage on the contrary side of the

dyke, surrounded by peasants, who had been using the means for the

recovery of drowned persons. The account given by one of them was, that,

returning home from his labour, he observed at a considerable distance a

large dog in the water, swimming and dragging, and sometimes pushing

along something that he seemed to have great difficulty in supporting,

but which he at length succeeded in getting into a small creek on the

opposite side. When the animal had pulled what he had hitherto supported

as far out of the water as he was able, the peasant discovered that it

was the body of a man, whose face and hands the dog was industriously

licking. The peasant hastened to a bridge across the dyke, and, having

obtained assistance, the body was conveyed to a neighbouring house,

where proper means soon restored the drowned man to life. Two very

considerable bruises, with the marks of teeth, appeared, one on his

shoulder and the other on his poll; hence it was presumed that the

faithful beast had first seized his master by the shoulder, and swam

with him in this manner for some time, but that his sagacity had

prompted him to quit this hold, and to shift it to the nape of the neck,

by which he had been enabled to support the head out of water; and in

this way he had conveyed him nearly a quarter of a mile before he had

brought him to the creek, where the banks were low and accessible.

Dr. Beattie relates an instance of a gentleman attempting to cross the

river Dee, then frozen over, near Aberdeen. The ice gave way about the

middle of the river; but, having a gun in his hand, he supported himself

by placing it across the opening. His dog then ran to a neighbouring

village, where, with the most significant gestures, he pulled a man by

the coat, and prevailed on him to follow him. They arrived at the spot

just in time to save the drowning man's life.

Of the noble disposition of the Newfoundland dog, Dr. Abel, in one of

his lectures on Phrenology, relates a singular instance.

"When this dog left his master's house, he was often assailed by a

number of little noisy dogs in the street. He usually passed them with

apparent unconcern, as if they were beneath his notice; but one little

cur was particularly troublesome, and at length carried his impudence

so far as to bite the Newfoundland dog in the leg. This was a degree

of wanton insult beyond what he could patiently endure; and he

instantly turned round, ran after the offender, and seized him by the

skin of the back. In this way he carried him in his mouth to the quay,

and, holding him some time over the water, at length dropped him into

it. He did not, however, seem to design that the culprit should be

punished capitally. He waited a little while, until the poor animal,

who was unused to that element, was not only well ducked, but nearly

sinking, and then plunged in, and brought him safe to land."

"It would be difficult," says Dr. Hancock, in his Essay on Instinct,

"to conceive any punishment more aptly contrived or more completely in

character. Indeed, if it were fully analyzed, an ample commentary

might be written in order to show what a variety of comparisons and

motives and generous feelings entered into the composition of this

act."

No one ever drew more legitimate consequence from certain existing

premises.

One other story should not be omitted of this noble breed of water-dogs.

A vessel was driven on the beach of Lydd, in Kent. The surf was rolling

furiously. Eight poor fellows were crying for help, but not a boat could

be got off to their assistance. At length a gentleman came on the beach

accompanied by his Newfoundland dog: he directed the attention of the

animal to the vessel, and put a short stick into his mouth. The

intelligent and courageous fellow at once understood his meaning, sprung

into the sea, and fought his way through the waves. He could not,

however, get close enough to the vessel to deliver that with which he

was charged; but the crew understood what was meant, and they made fast

a rope to another piece of wood, and threw it towards him. The noble

beast dropped his own piece of wood and immediately seized that which

had been cast to him, and then, with a degree of strength and

determination scarcely credible,--for he was again and again lost under

the waves,--he dragged it through the surge and delivered it to his

master. A line of communication was thus formed, and every man on board

was rescued.

There is, however, a more remarkable fact recorded in the Penny

Magazine.

"During a heavy gale a ship had struck on a rock near the land. The

only chance of escape for the shipwrecked was to get a rope ashore;

for it was impossible for any boat to live in the sea as it was then

running. There were two Newfoundland dogs and a bull-dog on board. One

of the Newfoundland dogs was thrown overboard, with a rope thrown

round him, and perished in the waves. The second shared a similar

fate: but the bull-dog fought his way through that terrible sea, and,

arriving safe onshore, rope and all, became the saviour of the crew."

Some of the true Newfoundland dogs have been brought to Europe and have

been used as retrievers. They are principally valuable for the fearless

manner in which they will penetrate the thickest cover. They are

comparatively small, but muscular, strong, and generally black. A larger

variety has been bred, and is now perfectly established. He is seldom

used as a sporting dog, or for draught, but is admired on account of his

stature and beauty, and the different colours with which he is often

marked. Perhaps he is not quite so good-natured and manageable as the

smaller variety, and yet it is not often that much fault can be found

with him on this account.

A noble animal of this kind was presented to the Zoological Society by

His Royal Highness Prince Albert. He is a great ornament to the gardens;

but he had been somewhat unmanageable, and had done some mischief before

he was sent thither.

A portion of Lord Byron's beautiful epitaph on the death of his

Newfoundland dog will properly close our account of this animal:

"The poor dog! In life the firmest friend,

The first to welcome, foremost to defend;

Whose honest heart is still his master's own;

Who labours, fights, lives, breathes for him alone."

[Notwithstanding the many excellent qualities so conspicuous in this

noble breed of dog, he is said to possess one most ungenerous trait of

character, "a peculiar antipathy to sheep," and if not early trained to

endure their presence, will take every opportunity to destroy these

innocent animals.]

THE ESQUIMAUX DOG

is a beast of burden and of draught, usefully employed by the

inhabitants of the extreme parts of North America and the neighbouring

islands. When the Esquimaux Indian goes in pursuit of the seal, the

rein-deer, or the bear, his dogs carry the materials of his temporary

hut, and the few necessaries of his simple life; or, yoked to the

sledge, often draw him and his family full sixty miles a-day over the

frozen plains of these inhospitable regions. At other times they assist

in the chase, and run down and destroy the bear and the rein-deer on

land, and the seal on the coast.

These dogs are very early trained to the work which they are destined to

follow, and even at the tender age of four or five months are harnessed

together or in company with older animals, and are compelled, either by

persuasion or brutal chastisement, to draw heavy weights, and thus soon

become accustomed to the trammels of the rude gearing, and familiar with

the service that they afterwards perform with so much sagacity and

alacrity.

Capt. Lyon states that they are very similar in appearance to the

shepherd dog of England, but more muscular and broad chested, owing to

severe work; ears pointed, of a savage appearance; the finer dogs are

equal to the Newfoundland breed in point of height and general symmetry.

It is also somewhat curious to be informed that these dogs have no

particular season of oestrum, but bear young indiscriminately at all

times of the year, cold or warm, having very little or no effect upon

their reproductive powers, being often seen in heat during the month of

December when the thermometer was forty degrees below zero.

Their journeys are often without any certain object; but, if the dogs

scent the deer or the bear, they gallop away in that direction until

their prey is within reach of the driver, or they are enabled to assist

in destroying their foe. Captain Parry, in his Journal of a 'Second

Voyage for the Discovery of a North-West Passage', gives an amusing

account of these expeditions.

"A number of dogs, varying from six to twelve, are attached to each

sledge by means of a single trace, but with no reins. An old and tried

dog is placed as the leader, who, in their simple journeys, and when

the chase is the object, steadily obeys the voice of the driver

sitting in front of the sledge, with a whip long enough to reach the

leader. This whip, however, is used as seldom as possible; for these

dogs, although tractable, are ferocious, and will endure little

correction. When the whip is applied with severity on one, he falls

upon and worries his neighbour, and he, in his turn, attacks a third,

and there is a scene of universal confusion, or the dogs double from

side to side to avoid the whip, and the traces become entangled, and

the safety of the sledge endangered. The carriage must then be

stopped, each dog put into his proper place, and the traces

re-adjusted. This frequently happens several times in the course of

the day. The driver therefore depends principally on the docility of

the leader, who, with admirable precision, quickens or slackens his

pace, and starts off or stops, or turns to the right or left, at the

summons of his master. When they are journeying homeward, or

travelling to some spot to which the leader has been accustomed to go,

he is generally suffered to pursue his own course; for, although every

trace of the road is lost in the drifting snow, he scents it out, and

follows it with undeviating accuracy. Even the leader, however, is not

always under the control of his master. If the journey lies homeward,

he will go his own pace, and that is usually at the top of his speed;

or, if any game starts, or he scents it at a distance, no command of

his driver will restrain him. Neither the dog nor his master is half

civilized or subdued."

Each of these dogs will draw a weight of 120 lb. over the snow, at the

rate of seven or eight miles an hour.

[It is extraordinary to consider the powers and wonderful speed of these

animals, almost equalling that of many horses.

Captain Lyon informs us that three dogs drew a sledge weighing 100 lbs.

and himself, one mile in six minutes; his leader dog, which is generally

more powerful than the others, drew 196 lb. the same distance in eight

minutes; seven dogs ran one mile in four minutes and thirty seconds,

with a heavy sledge full of men attached to them; ten dogs ran one mile

in five minutes; nine dogs drew 1611 lb. the same distance in nine

minutes.--'Lyon's Journal', p. 243.--L.]

In summer, many of these dogs are used as beasts of burden, and each

carries from thirty to fifty pounds. They are then much better kept than

in the winter; for they have the remains of the whale and sea-calf,

which their masters disdain to eat. The majority, however, are sent

adrift in the summer, and they live on the produce of the chase or of

their constant thievery. The exactness with which, the summer being

past, each returns to his master, is an admirable proof of sagacity, and

frequently of attachment.

In some parts of Siberia, on the borders of the Oby, there are

established relays of dogs, like the post-horses in other countries.

Four of these are attached to a very light vehicle; but, when much haste

is required, or any very heavy goods are to be conveyed, more than

treble or quadruple that number are harnessed to the vehicle. M. de

Lesseps [2] gives an almost incredible account of this. He is speaking

of the voracity of these poor beasts, in the midst of the snowy desert,

with little or no food.

"We had unharnessed our dogs, in order to bring them closer together,

in the ordinary way; but, the moment they were brought up to the pole,

they seized their harness, constructed of the thickest and toughest

leather, and tore it to pieces, and devoured it. It was in vain that

we attempted every means of restraint. A great number of them escaped

into the wilds around, others wandered here and there, and seized

everything that came within their reach, and which their teeth could

destroy. Almost every minute some one of them fell exhausted, and

immediately became the prey of the others. Every one that could get

within reach struggled for his share. Every limb was disputed, and

torn away by a troop of rivals, who attacked all within their reach.

As soon as one fell by exhaustion or accident, he was seized by a

dozen others, and destroyed in the space of a few minutes. In order to

defend ourselves from this crowd of famished beasts, we were compelled

to have recourse to our bludgeons and our swords. To this horrible

scene of mutual destruction succeeded, on the following day, the sad

appearance of those that surrounded the sledge, to which we had

retreated for safety and for warmth. They were thin, and starved, and

miserable; they could scarcely move; their plaintive and continual

howlings seemed to claim our succour; but there was no possibility of

relieving them in the slightest degree, except that some of them crept

to the opening in our carriage through which the smoke escapes; and

the more they felt the warmth closer they crept, and then, through

mere feebleness, losing their equilibrium, they rolled into the fire

before our eyes."

These dogs are not so high as the common pointer, but much larger and

stouter, although their thick hair, three or four inches long in the

winter, gives them an appearance of more stoutness than they possess.

Under this hair is a coating of fine close soft wool, which begins to

grow in the early part of winter, and drops off in the spring. Their

muzzles are sharp and generally black, and their ears erect.

The Greenland, and Siberian, and Kamtschatdale are varieties of the

Esquimaux or Arctic dogs, but enlarged in form, and better subdued. The

docility of some of these is equal to that of any European breed.

A person of the name of Chabert, who was afterwards better known by the

title of "Fire King," had a beautiful Siberian dog, who would draw him

in a light carriage 20 miles a day. He asked £200 for him, and sold him

for a considerable portion of that sum; for he was a most beautiful

animal of his kind, and as docile as he was beautiful. Between the sale

and the delivery, the dog fell and broke his leg. Chabert, to whom the

price agreed on was of immense consequence, was in despair. He took the

dog at night to a veterinary surgeon. He formally introduced them to

each other. He talked to the dog, pointed to his leg, limped around the

room, then requested the surgeon to apply some bandages around the leg,

and he seemed to walk sound and well. He patted the dog on the head, who

was looking alternately at him and the surgeon, desired the surgeon to

pat him, and to offer him his hand to lick, and then, holding up his

finger to the dog, and gently shaking his head, quitted the room and the

house. The dog immediately laid himself down, and submitted to a

reduction of the fracture, and the bandaging of the limb, without a

motion, except once or twice licking the hand of the operator. He was

quite submissive, and in a manner motionless, day after day, until, at

the expiration of a month, the limb was sound. Not a trace of the

fracture was to be detected, and the purchaser, who is now living, knew

nothing about it.

The employment of the Esquimaux dogs is nearly the same as those from

Newfoundland, and most valuable they are to the traveller who has to

find his way over the wild and trackless regions of the north. The

manner, however, in which they are generally treated seems ill

calculated to cause any strong or lasting attachment. During their

period of labour, they, like their brethren in Newfoundland, are fed

sparingly on putrid fish, and in summer they are turned loose to shift

for themselves until the return of the severe season renders it

necessary to their masters' interest that they should again be sought

for, and once more reduced to their state of toil and slavery.

They have been known for several successive days to travel more than 60

miles. They seldom miss their road, although they may be driven over one

untrodden snowy plain, where they are occasionally unable to reach any

place of shelter. When, however, night comes, they partake with their

master of the scanty fare which the sledge will afford, and, crowding

round, keep him warm and defend him from danger. If any of them fall

victims to the hardships to which they are exposed, their master or

their companions frequently feed on their remains, and their skins are

converted into warm and comfortable dresses.

THE LAPLAND DOG.

Captain Clarke thus describes the Lapland dog:

"We had a valuable companion in a dog belonging to one of the boatmen.

It was of the true Lapland breed, and in all respects similar to a

wolf, excepting the tail, which was bushy and curled like those of the

Pomeranian race. This dog, swimming after the boat, if his master

merely waved his hand, would cross the lake as often as he pleased,

carrying half his body and the whole of his head and tail out of the

water. Wherever he landed, he scoured all the long grass by the side

of the lake in search of wild-fowl, and came back to us, bringing

wild-ducks in his mouth to the boat, and then, having delivered his

prey to his master, he would instantly set off again in search of

more." [3]

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

THE SHEEP-DOG.

The origin of the sheep-dog is somewhat various; but the predominant

breed is that of the intelligent and docile spaniel. Although it is now

found in every civilized country in which the sheep is cultivated, ii is

not coeval with the domestication of that animal. When the pastures were

in a manner open to the first occupant, and every shepherd had a common

property in them, it was not so necessary to restrain the wandering of

the sheep, and the voice of the shepherd was usually sufficient to

collect and to guide them. He preceded the flock, and they "followed him

whithersoever he went." In process of time, however, man availed himself

of the sagacity of the dog to diminish his own labour and fatigue, and

this useful servitor became the guide and defender of the flock.

The sheep-dog possesses much of the same form and character in every

country. The muzzle is sharp, the ears are short and erect, and the

animal is covered, particularly about the neck, with thick and shaggy

hair. He has usually two dew claws on each of the hind legs; not,

however, as in the one claw of other dogs, having a jointed attachment

to the limb, but merely connected by the skin and some slight cellular

substance. These excrescences should be cut off when the dog is young.

The tail is slightly turned upwards and long, and almost as bushy as

that of a fox, even in that variety whose coat is almost smooth. He is

of a black colour or black prevails, mixed with gray or brown.

Professor Grognier gives the following account of this dog as he is

found in France:

"The shepherd's dog, the least removed from the natural type of the

dog, is of a middle size; his ears short and straight; the hair long,

principally on the tail, and of a dark colour; the tail is carried

horizontally or a little elevated. He is very indifferent to caresses.

possessed of much intelligence and activity to discharge the duties

for which he was designed. In one or other of its varieties it is

found in every part of France. Sometimes there is but a single breed,

in others there are several varieties. It lives and maintains its

proper characteristics, while other races often degenerate. Everywhere

it preserves its proper distinguishing type. It is the servant of man,

while other breeds vary with a thousand circumstances. It has one

appropriate mission, and that it discharges in the most admirable way:

there is evidently a kind and wise design in this."

This account of the French sheep-dog, or of the sheep-dog everywhere, is

as true as it is beautiful. One age succeeds to another, we pass from

one climate to another, and everything varies and changes, but the

shepherd's dog is what he ever was--the guardian of our flocks. There

are, however, two or more species of this dog; the one which Professor

Grognier has described, and which guards and guides the sheep in the

open and level country, where wolves seldom intrude; another crossed

with the mastiff, or little removed from that dog, used in the woody and

mountainous countries, their guard more than their guide. [4] In Great

Britain, where he has principally to guide and not to guard the flock,

he is comparatively a small dog. He is so in the northern and open parts

of the country, where activity is principally wanted; but, in the more

enclosed districts, and where strength is often needed to turn an

obstinate sheep, he is crossed with some larger dog, as the rough

terrier, or sometimes the pointer, or now and then the bull-dog: in

fact, almost any variety that has strength and stoutness may be

employed. Thus we obtain the larger sheep-dog and the drover's dog. The

sagacity, forbearance, and kindness of the sheep-dog are generally

retained, but from these crosses there is occasionally a degree of

ferocity from which the sheep often suffer.

In other countries, where the flock is exposed to the attack of the

wolf, the sheep-dog is larger than the British drover's dog, and not far

inferior in size to the mastiff. The strength and ferocity which qualify

him to combat with the wolf, would occasionally be injurious or fatal to

those who somewhat obstinately opposed his direction; therefore, in

Denmark and in Spain, the dog is rarely employed to drive the flock. It

is the office of the shepherd, to know every individual under his

charge, to, as in olden times, "call them all by their names," and have

always some docile and tamed wether who will take the lead, almost as

subservient to his voice as is the dog himself, and whom the flock will

immediately follow.

In whatever country the dog is used, partly or principally to protect

the flock from the ravages of the wolf, he is as gentle as a lamb,

except when opposed to his natural enemy; and it is only in England that

the guardian of the sheep occasionally injures and worries them, and

that many can be found bearing the mark of the tooth. This may he

somewhat excusable (although it is often carried to a barbarous extent)

in the drover's dog; but it will admit of no apology in the shepherd's

dog. It is the result of the idleness of the boy, or the mingled

brutality and idleness of the shepherd, who is attempting to make the

dog do his own work and that of his master too. We have admired the

Prussian sheep-dog in the discharge of his duty, and have seen him pick

out the marked sheep, or stop and turn the flock, as cleverly as any

Highland colley, but he never bit them. He is a shorter, stronger, and

more compact dog than ours. He pushes against them and forces them

along. If they rebel against this mild treatment, the shepherd is at

hand to enforce obedience; and the flock is as easily and perfectly

managed as any English or Highland one, and a great deal more so than

the majority that we have seen.

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

says:

"There is no driving of the flock; that is a practice entirely

unknown; but the shepherd, when he wishes to remove his sheep, calls

to him a tame wether accustomed to feed from his hands. The favourite,

however distant, obeys his call, and the rest follow. One or more of

the dogs, with large collars armed with spikes, in order to protect

them from the wolves, precede the flock, others skirt it on each side,

and some bring up the rear. If a sheep be ill or lame, or lag behind

unobserved by the shepherds, they stay with it and defend it until

some one return in search of it. With us, dogs are too often used for

other and worse purposes. In open, unenclosed districts, they are

indispensable; but in others I wish them, I confess, either managed,

or encouraged less. If a sheep commits a fault in the sight of an

intemperate shepherd, or accidentally offends him, it is 'dogged'

into obedience: the signal is given, the dog obeys the mandate, and

the poor sheep flies round the field to escape from the fangs of him

who should be his protector, until it becomes half dead with fright

and exhaustion, while the trembling flock crowd together dreading the

same fate, and the churl exults in this cowardly victory over a weak

and defenceless animal." [5]

If the farmer will seriously calculate the number of ewes that have

yeaned before their time, and of the lambs that he has lost, and the

accidents that have occurred from the sheep pressing upon one another in

order to escape from the dog, and if he will also take into account the

continual disturbance of the sheep while grazing, by the approach of the

dog, and the consequent interference with the cropping and the digestion

of the food, he will attach more importance to the good temper of the

dog and of the shepherd than he has been accustomed to do. There would

be no injustice, or rather a great deal of propriety, in inflicting a

fine for every tooth-mark that could be detected. When the sheep,

instead of collecting round the dog, and placing themselves under his

protection on any sudden alarm, uniformly fly from him with terror, the

farmer may he assured there is something radically wrong in the

management of the flock.

Instinct and education combine to fit this dog for our service. The

pointer will act without any great degree of instruction, and the setter

will crouch; and most certainly the sheep-dog, and especially if he has

the example of an older and expert one, will, almost without the

teaching of the master, become everything that can be wished, obedient

to every order, even to the slightest motion of the hand. There is a

natural predisposition for the office he has to discharge, which it

requires little trouble or skill to develop and perfect.

It is no unpleasing employment to study the degree in which the several

breeds of dogs are not only highly intelligent, but fitted by nature for

the particular duty they have to perform. The pointer, the setter, the

hound, the greyhound, the terrier, the spaniel, and even the bull-dog,

were made, and almost perfected, by nature chiefly for one office alone,

although they maybe useful in many other ways. This is well illustrated

in the sheep-dog. If he be but with his master, he lies content,

indifferent to every surrounding object, seemingly half asleep and half

awake, rarely mingling with his kind, rarely courting, and generally

shrinking from, the notice of a stranger; but the moment duty calls, his

sleepy, listless eye, becomes brightened; he eagerly gazes on his

master, inquires and comprehends all he is to do, and, springing up,

gives himself to the discharge of his duty with a sagacity, and

fidelity, and devotion, too rarely equalled even by man himself.

Mr. James Hogg, the Ettrick Shepherd, living in his early days among the

sheep and their quadruped attendants, and an accurate observer of

nature, as well an exquisite poet, gives some anecdotes of the colley,

(the Highland term for sheep-dog), with which the reader will not be

displeased.

"My dog Sirrah," says he, in a letter to the Editor of 'Blackwood's

Edinburgh Magazine', "was, beyond all comparison, the best dog I ever

saw. He had a somewhat surly and unsocial temper, disdaining all

flattery, and refusing to be caressed, but his attention to my

commands and interest will never again be equalled by any of the

canine race. When I first saw him, a drover was leading him with a

rope. He was both lean and hungry, and far from being a beautiful

animal; for he was almost black, and had a grim face, striped with

dark brown. I thought I perceived a sort of sullen intelligence in his

countenance, notwithstanding his dejected and forlorn appearance, and

I bought him. He was scarcely a year old, and knew so little of

herding that he had never turned a sheep in his life; but, as soon as

he discovered that it was his duty to do so, and that it obliged me, I

can never forget with what anxiety and eagerness he learned his

different evolutions; and when I once made him understand a direction,

he never forgot or mistook it."

On one night, a large flock of lambs that were under the Ettrick

Shepherd's care, frightened by something, scampered away in three

different directions across the hills, in spite of all that he could

do to keep them together. "Sirrah," said the shepherd, "they're a'

awa!"

It was too dark for the dog and his master to see each other at any

considerable distance, but Sirrah understood him, and set off after

the fugitives. The night passed on, and Hogg and his assistant

traversed every neighbouring hill in anxious but fruitless search for

the lambs; but he could hear nothing of them nor of the dog, and he

was returning to his master with the doleful intelligence that he had

lost all his lambs. "On our way home, however," says he, "we

discovered a lot of lambs at the bottom of a deep ravine called the

Flesh Cleuch, and the indefatigable Sirrah standing in front of them,

looking round for some relief, but still true to his charge. We

concluded that it was one of the divisions which Sirrah had been

unable to manage, until he came to that commanding situation. But what

was our astonishment when we discovered that not one lamb of the flock

was missing! How he had got all the divisions collected in the dark,

is beyond my comprehension. The charge was left entirely to himself

from midnight until the rising sun; and, if all the shepherds in the

forest had been there to have assisted him, they could not have

effected it with greater promptitude. All that I can say is, that I

never felt so grateful to any creature under the sun us I did to my

honest Sirrah that morning."

A shepherd, in one of his excursions over the Grampian Hills to collect

his scattered flock, took with him (as is a frequent practice, to

initiate them in their future business) one of his children about four

years old. After traversing his pastures for a while, attended by his

dog, he was compelled to ascend a summit at some distance. As the ascent

was too great for the child, he left him at the bottom, with strict

injunctions not to move from the place. Scarcely, however, had he gained

the height, when one of the Scotch mists, of frequent occurrence,

suddenly came on, and almost changed the day to night. He returned to

seek his child, but was unable to find him, and concluded a long and

fruitless search by coming distracted to his cottage. His poor dog also

was missing in the general confusion. On the next morning by daylight he

renewed his search, but again he came back without his child. He found,

however, that during his absence his dog had been home, and, on

receiving his allowance of food, instantly departed. For four successive

days the shepherd continued his search with the same bad fortune, the

dog as readily coming for his meal and departing. Struck by this

singular circumstance, he determined to follow the dog, who departed as

usual with his piece of cake. The animal led the way to a cataract at

some distance from the spot where the child had been left. It was a

rugged and almost perpendicular descent which the dog took, and he

disappeared in a cave, the mouth of which was almost on a level with the

torrent. The shepherd with difficulty followed; but, on entering the

cavern, what were his emotions when he beheld the infant eating the cake

which the dog had just brought to him, while the faithful animal stood

by, eyeing his young charge with the utmost complacency! From the

situation in which the child was found, it appeared that he had wandered

to the brink of the precipice, and then either fallen or scrambled down,

the torrent preventing his re-ascent. The dog by means of his scent had

traced him to the spot, and afterwards prevented him from starving by

giving up a part, or, perhaps, the whole of his own daily allowance. He

appears never to have quitted the child night or day, except for food,

as he was seen running at full speed to and from the cottage. [6]

Mr. Hogg says, and very truly, that a single shepherd and his dog will

accomplish more in gathering a flock of sheep from a Highland farm than

twenty shepherds could do without dogs; in fact, that without this

docile animal, the pastoral life would be a mere blank. It would require

more hands to manage a flock of sheep, gather them from the hills, force

them into houses and folds, and drive them to markets, than the profits

of the whole flock would be capable of maintaining. Well may the

shepherd feel an interest in his dog; he it is indeed that earns the

family bread, of which he is himself content with the smallest morsel:

always grateful, and always ready to exert his utmost abilities in his

master's interests. Neither hunger, fatigue, nor the worst treatment

will drive him from his side, and he will follow him through every

hardship without murmur or repining. If one of them is obliged to change

masters, it is sometimes long before he will acknowledge the new owner,

or condescend to work for him with the willingness that he did for his

former lord; but, if he once acknowledges him, he continues attached to

him until death. [7]

We will add another story of the colley, and proceed. It illustrates the

memory of the dog. A shepherd was employed in bringing up some mountain

sheep from Westmoreland, and took with him a young sheep-dog who had

never made the journey before. From his assistant being ignorant of the

ground, he experienced great difficulty in having the flock stopped at

the various roads and lanes he passed in their way to the neighbourhood

of London.

In the next year the same shepherd, accompanied by the same dog, brought

up another flock for the gentlemen who had had the former one. On being

questioned how he had got on, he said much better than the year before,

as his dog now knew the road, and had kept the sheep from going up any

of the lanes or turnings that had given the shepherd so much trouble on

his former journey. The distance could not have been less than 400

miles. [8]

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

"This animal, faithful to man, will always preserve a portion of his

empire and a degree of superiority over other beings. He reigns at the

head of his flock, and makes himself better understood than the voice

of the shepherd. Safety, order, and discipline are the fruits of his

vigilance and activity. They are a people submitted to his management,

whom he conducts and protects, and against whom he never employs force

but for the preservation of good order."

"If we consider that this animal, notwithstanding his ugliness and his

wild and melancholy look, is superior in instinct to all others; that

he has a decided character in which education has comparatively little

share; that he is the only animal born perfectly trained for the

service of others; that, guided by natural powers alone, he applies

himself to the care of our flocks, a duty which he executes with

singular assiduity, vigilance, and fidelity; that he conducts them

with an admirable intelligence which is a part and portion of himself;

that his sagacity astonishes at the same time that it gives repose to

his master, while it requires great time and trouble to instruct other

dogs for the purposes to which they are destined: if we reflect on

these facts we shall be confirmed in the opinion that the shepherd's

dog is the true dog of nature, the stock and model of the whole

species." [9]

[After reading the above history of this truly valuable dog, it is

almost superfluous for us to attempt to add anything more on this head;

however, we must pause for a few moments, to call the attention of our

agriculturists and others engaged in raising sheep, to the immense

advantages to be derived from the introduction of this sagacious animal

throughout our own country.

The increased vigour that is now given for the cultivation of sheep, to

supply the necessary demands of the numerous woollen factories springing

up in every quarter, renders the services of this faithful creature

absolutely indispensable, not only as a guardian of the flocks, but as a

mere expedient of economy.

Many portions of our country, now lying idle, particularly the

mountainous ranges, are peculiarly adapted for the grazing of sheep, and

we are destined not only to supply the world with cotton, but may hope

ere long to add to our national wealth the other equally valuable staple

commodity, that of wool.

In the care of sheep, each dog not only supplies the place of two or

three men, but, as is seen in the foregoing pages, renders such

assistance as cannot be obtained from any other source.

The shepherds of Mexico lead a life not unlike the patriarchs of old,

shifting about from day to day, watching their immense flocks, attended

only by a few dogs, who have the entire control of the sheep, keeping

them from straying away, and not only defending them from the

blood-thirsty wolf, but even attacking, if necessary, the skulking

savage.

These dogs of Mexico are represented as being much larger than the

English variety, and no doubt are the descendants of the Spanish

shepherd dog, so highly prized in protecting the Merino flocks from the

wolves that infest the mountainous parts of Spain, most frequented by

the herds during the summer season.

These dogs are the same breed as those engaged by the philanthropic

monks of St. Bernard in hunting up the benumbed traveller when sinking

from exhaustion, or already overwhelmed by the sudden rushing of an

avalanche into some one of the mountain passes.

The original Spanish shepherd dog is a very powerful animal, and even

those of Mexico, when armed with spiked collars, are a sufficient match

for the largest wolves. Mr. Kendall mentions having met on the grand

prairie with a flock of sheep numbering seventeen thousand, which

immense herd was guarded by a very few men, assisted by a large number

of noble dogs, which appeared gifted with the faculty of keeping them

together.

"There was no running about, no barking or biting in their system of

tactics; on the contrary, they were continually walking up and down,

like faithful sentinels, on the outer side of the flock, and should

any sheep chance to stray from his fellows, the dog on duty at that

particular post would walk gently up, take him carefully by the ear,

and lead him back to the fold. Not the least fear did the sheep

manifest at the approach of these dogs, and there was no occasion for

it."

Vol. I. p. 268.

This account coincides with the remarks of Mr. Trinner upon this dog in

old Spain; and Mr. Skinner very justly remarks, that the Mexican

sheep-dog has not his equal in any part of the world, except, perhaps,

in his native country, and that the Scotch or English dog sinks into

insignificance when compared with him.

A flock of a thousand sheep in Spain requires the attendance of two men

and an equal number of dogs, who never for a moment quit their charge,

watching them without intermission day and night. The great inferiority

of the English dogs, may be attributed, perhaps, to their want of care

in training and bringing up, which is considered the most essential, and

actually the foundation of all their future usefulness with the

Mexicans. The pups when first born, are taken from the bitch, and put to

a sucking ewe, already deprived of her own lamb. For several days the

ewe is confined with the pups in the shepherd's hut, and either from

force, or an instinctive desire to be relieved of the contents of the

udder, she soon allows the little strangers to suck, and in the course

of a few days more, becomes quite reconciled to the change, and exhibits

a great degree of affection for her foster children, who, knowing no

other parentage, becomes thus early engrafted into the general

community, and returns their early kindness by every mark of affection

and fidelity hereafter; never being willing for a moment to quit their

society, but remains with them night and day, expressing a peculiar

attachment to this particular flock, and seeming able to distinguish

each member of it from all other intruders.

In the third volume of the 'American Agriculturist' will be found an

interesting article connected with this subject, and from which we might

extract much useful information, if our limits would allow of its

insertion in the present volume.

Mr. Skinner states, that in 1832 he had two of these dogs, a male and

female, both trained, but unfortunately lost the latter before obtaining

any pups from her; he also remarks, that they can be imported via Havana

and Santander, at an expense of not less than $70 or $80. We see no

reason why the same dogs might not be obtained at a much less cost by

the Santa Fé traders, who, no doubt, would be glad to bring them into

the country as companions de voyages, provided there was any demand for

them.--L.]

THE DROVER'S DOG

bears considerable resemblance to the sheep-dog, and has usually the

same prevailing black or brown colour. He possesses all the docility of

the sheep-dog, with more courage, and sometimes a degree of ferocity,

exercised without just cause upon his charge, while he is in his turn

cruelly used by a brutal master.

There is a valuable cross between the colley and the drover's dog in

Westmoreland, and a larger and stronger breed is cultivated in

Lincolnshire; indeed it is necessary there, where oxen as well as sheep

are usually consigned to the dog's care. A good drover's dog is worth a

considerable sum; but the breed is too frequently and injudiciously

crossed at the fancy of the owner. Some drovers' dogs are as much like

setters, lurchers, and hounds, as they are to the original breed.

Stories are told of the docility and sagacity of the drover's dog even

more surprising than any that are related of the sheep-dog. The Ettrick

Shepherd says, that a Mr. Steel, butcher in Peebles, had such implicit

dependence on the attention of his dog to his orders, that whenever he

put a lot of sheep before her, he took a pride in leaving them entirely

to her, and either remained to take a glass with the farmer of whom he

had made the purchase, or travelled another road to look after bargains

or business. At one time, however, he chanced to commit a drove to her

charge, at a place called Willenslee, without attending to her

condition, which he certainly ought to have done. This farm is about

five miles from Peebles, over wild hills, and there is no regularly

defined path to it. Whether Mr. Steel chose another road is uncertain;

but, on coming home late in the evening, he was surprised to hear that

his faithful animal had not made her appearance with her flock. He and

his son instantly prepared to set out by different paths in search of

her; but, on going into the street, there was she with the flock, and

not one of the sheep missing; she, however, was carrying a young pup in

her mouth. She had been taken in travail on those hills; and how the

poor beast had contrived to manage the sheep in her state of suffering

is beyond human calculation, for her road lay through sheep-pastures the

whole way. Her master's heart smote him when he saw what she had

suffered and effected; but she was nothing daunted; and, having

deposited her young one in a place of safety, she again set out at full

speed to the hills, and brought another and another little one, until

she had removed her whole litter one by one; the last, however, was

dead.

Mr. Blaine relates as extraordinary an instance of intelligence, but not

mingled, like the former, with natural affection. A butcher and

cattle-dealer, who resided about nine miles from Alston, in Cumberland,

bought a dog of a drover. The butcher was accustomed to purchase sheep

and kine in the vicinity, which, when fattened, he drove to Alston

market and sold. In these excursions he was frequently astonished at the

peculiar sagacity of his dog, and at the more than common readiness and

dexterity with which he managed the cattle; until at length he troubled

himself very little about the matter, but, riding carelessly along, used

to amuse himself with observing how adroitly the dog acquitted himself

of his charge. At length, so convinced was he of his sagacity, as well

as fidelity, that he laid a wager that he would intrust the dog with a

number of sheep and oxen, and let him drive them alone and unattended to

Alston market. It was stipulated that no one should be within sight or

hearing who had the least control over the dog, nor was any spectator to

interfere. This extraordinary animal, however, proceeded with his

business in the most steady and dexterous manner; and, although he had

frequently to drive his charge through other herds that were grazing, he

did not lose one; but, conducting them to the very yard to which he was

used to drive them when with his master, he significantly delivered them

up to the person appointed to receive them by barking at his door. When

the path which he travelled lay through grounds in which others were

grazing, he would run forward, stop his own drove, and then, chasing the

others away, collect his scattered charge, and proceed.

THE ITALIAN OR POMERANIAN WOLF-DOG.

The wolf-dog is no longer a native of Great Britain, because his

services are not required there, but he is useful in various parts of

the Continent, in the protection of the sheep from the attacks of the

wolf. A pair of these dogs was brought to the Zoological Society of

London in 1833, and there long remained, an ornament to the Gardens.

They appeared to possess a considerable degree of strength, but to be

too gentle to contend with so powerful and ferocious an animal as the

wolf. They were mostly covered with white or gray, or occasionally black

hair, short on the head, ears and feet, but long and silky on the body

and tail. The forehead is elevated, and the muzzle lengthened and

clothed with short hair. The attachment of this dog to his master and

the flock is very great, and he has not lost a particle of his sagacity,

but, where wolves are common, is still used as a sheep-dog.

THE CUR

is the sheep-dog crossed with the terrier. He has long and somewhat

deservedly obtained a very bad name, as a bully and a coward; and

certainly his habit of barking at everything that passes, and flying at

the heels of the horse, renders him often a very dangerous nuisance: he

is, however, in a manner necessary to the cottager; he is a faithful

defender of his humble dwelling; no bribe can seduce him from his duty;

and he is likewise a useful and an effectual guard over the clothes and

scanty provisions of the labourer, who may be working in some distant

part of the field. All day long he will lie upon his master's clothes

seemingly asleep, but giving immediate warning of the approach of a

supposed marauder. He has a propensity, when at home, to fly at every

horse and every strange dog; and of young game of every kind there is

not a more ruthless destroyer than the village cur.

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

the cur:

"An exceedingly good sheep-dog attends to nothing but the particular

branch of business to which he is bred. His whole capacity is exerted

and exhausted in it; and he is of little avail in miscellaneous

matters; whereas a very indifferent cur bred about the house, and

accustomed to assist in everything will often put the more noble breed

to disgrace in these little services. If some one calls out that the

cows are in the corn or the hens in the garden, the house colley needs

no other hint, but runs and turns them out. The shepherd's dog knows

not what is astir, and, if he is called out in a hurry for such work,

all that he will do is to run to the hill, or rear himself on his

haunches to see that no sheep are running away. A well-bred sheep-dog,

if coming hungry from the hills, and getting into a milk-house, would

likely think of nothing else than filling his belly with the cream.

Not so his initiated brother: he is bred at home to far higher

principles of honour. I have known such lie night and day among from

ten to twenty pails full of milk, and never once break the cream of

one of them with the tip of his tongue, nor would he suffer cat, rat,

or any other creature to touch it. While, therefore, the cur is a

nuisance, he is very useful in his way, and we would further plead for

him, that he possesses a great deal of the sagacity and all the

fidelity of the choicest breed of dogs."

The dog who, according to the well-known and authentic story, watched

the remains of his master for two years in the churchyard of St.

Olave's, in Southwark, was a cur.

The following story is strictly authentic:

"Not long ago a young man, an acquaintance of the coachman, was

walking, as he had often done, in Lord Fife's stables at Banff. Taking

an opportunity, when the servants were not regarding him, he put a

bridle into his pocket. A Highland cur that was generally about the

stables saw him, and immediately began to bark at him, and when he got

to the stable-door would not let him pass, but bit him by the leg in

order to prevent him. As the servants had never seen the dog act thus

before, and the same young man had been often with them, they could

not imagine what could be the reason of the dog's conduct. However,

when they saw the end of a valuable bridle peeping out of the young

man's pocket, they were able to account for it, and, on his giving it

up, the dog left the stable-door, where he had stood, and allowed him

to pass." [10]

THE LURCHER.

This dog was originally a cross between the greyhound and the shepherd's

dog, retaining all the speed and fondness for the chase belonging to the

one, and the superior intelligence and readiness for any kind of work

which the latter possessed. This breed has been crossed again with the

spaniel, combining the disposition to quest for game which distinguishes

the spaniel with the muteness and swiftness of the greyhound. Sometimes

the greyhound is crossed with the hound. Whatever be the cross, the

greyhound must predominate; but his form, although still to be traced,

has lost all its beauty.

The lurcher is a dog seldom found in the possession of the honourable

sportsman. The farmer may breed him for his general usefulness, for

driving his cattle, and guarding his premises, and occasionally coursing

the hare; but other dogs will answer the former purposes much better,

while the latter qualification may render him suspected by his landlord,

and sometimes be productive of serious injury. In a rabbit-warren this

dog is peculiarly destructive. His scent enables him to follow them

silently and swiftly. He darts unexpectedly upon them, and, being

trained to bring his prey to his master, one of these dogs will often in

one night supply the poacher with rabbits and other game worth more

money than he could earn by two days' hard labour.

Mr. H. Faull, of Helstone, in Cornwall, lost no fewer than fifteen fine

sheep, and some of them store sheep, killed by lurchers in January,

1824. [11]

We now proceed to the different species of dog belonging to the second

division of Cuvier, which are classed under the name of Hound; and,

first we take

THE BEAGLE.

The origin of this diminutive hound is somewhat obscure. There is

evidently much of the harrier and of the old southern, connected with a

considerable decrease of size and speed, the possession of an

exceedingly musical voice, and very great power of scent. Beagles are

rarely more than ten or twelve inches in height, and were generally so

nearly of the same size and power of speed, that it was commonly said

they might be covered with a sheet. This close running is, however,

considered as a mark of excellence in hounds of every kind.

There are many pleasurable recollections of the period when "the good

old English gentleman" used to keep his pack of beagles or little

harriers, slow but sure, occasionally carried to the field in a pair of

panniers on a horse's back; often an object of ridicule at an early

period of the chase, but rarely failing to accomplish their object ere

the day closed, "the puzzling pack unravelling wile by wile, maze within

maze." It was often the work of two or three hours to accomplish this;

but is was seldom, in spite of her speed, her shifts, and her doublings,

that the hare did not fall a victim to her pursuers.

The slowness of their pace gradually caused them to be almost totally

discontinued, until very lately, and especially in the royal park at

Windsor, they have been again introduced. Generally speaking, they have

all the strength and endurance which is necessary to ensure their

killing their game, and are much fleeter than their diminutive size

would indicate. Formerly, considerable fancy and even judgment used to

be exercised in the breeding of these dogs. They were curiously

distinguished by the names of "deep-flewed," or "shallow-flewed," in

proportion as they had the depending upper lip of the southern, or the

sharper muzzle and more contracted lip of the northern dogs. The

shallow-flewed were the swiftest, and the deep-flewed the stoutest and

the surest, and their music the most pleasant. The wire-haired beagle

was considered as the stouter and better dog.

The form of the head in beagles has been much misunderstood. They have,

or should have, large heads, decidedly round, and thick rather than

long; there will then be room for the expansion of the nasal membrane,

that of smell, and for the reverberation of the sound, so peculiarly

pleasant in this dog.

The beagle runs very low to the ground, and therefore has a stronger

impression of the scent than taller dogs. This is especially the case

when the scent is more than usually low.

Among the advocates for beagles, several years ago, was Colonel Hardy.

He used to send his dogs in panniers, and they had a little barn for

their kennel. The door was one night broken open, and every hound,

panniers and all, stolen. The thief was never discovered, not even

suspected.

The use of beagles was soon afterwards nearly abandoned by the

introduction of the harrier, and by his yielding in his turn to the

fox-hound; but the beagles of Colonel Thornton and Colonel Molyneux will

not be soon forgotten. [12]

There is, however, a practice which fair sportsmen will never resort

to--the use of a beagle to start a hare in order to be run down by a

brace of greyhounds, or perhaps by a lurcher. The hare is not fairly

matched in this way of proceeding.

THE HARRIER

occupies an intermediate station between the beagle and the fox-hound.

It is the fox-hound bred down to a diminished size, and suited to the

animal he is to pursue. He retains, or did for a while retain, the long

body, deep chest, large bones, somewhat heavy head, sweeping ears, and

mellow voice, which the sportsman of old so enthusiastically described,

with the certainty of killing, and the pleasing prolongation of the

chase. With this the farmer used to be content: it did not require

expensive cattle, was not attended with much hazard of neck, and did not

take him far from home.

Almost every country squire used in former days to keep his little pack

of harriers or beagles. He was mounted on his stout cob-horse, that

served him alike for the road and the chase; and his huntsman probably

had a still smaller and rougher beast, or sometimes ran afoot. He could

then follow the sport, almost without going off his own land, and the

farmer's boys, knowing the country and the usual doublings of the hare,

could see the greater part of the chase, and were almost able to keep up

with the hounds, so that they were rarely absent at the death: indeed,

they saw and enjoyed far more of it than the fox-hunter or the

stag-hunter now does, mounted on his fleetest horse.

The harrier was not more than 18 or 19 inches high. He was crossed with

the fox-hound if he was getting too diminutive, or with the beagle if he

was becoming too tall.

The principal objects the sportsman endeavoured to accomplish were to

preserve stoutness, scent, and musical voice, with speed to follow the

hare sufficiently close, yet not enough to run her down too quickly, or

without some of those perplexities, and faults, and uncertainties which

give the principal zest to the chase.

The character and speed of the hound much depend on the nature of the

country. The smaller harrier will best suit a deeply enclosed country;

but where there is little cover, and less doubling greater size and

fleetness are requisite. The harrier, nevertheless, let him be as tall

and as speedy as he may, should never he used for the fox; but every dog

should be strictly confined to his own game.

Mr. Beckford, in his 'Thoughts upon Hunting', gives an account,

unrivalled, of the chase of the hare and fox. Many sporting writers have

endeavoured to tread in his steps; but they have failed in giving that

graphic account of the pleasures of the field which Mr. Beckford's essay

contains.

He says that the sportsman should never have more than 20 couple in the

field, because it would he exceedingly difficult to get a greater number

to run together, and a pack of harriers cannot be complete if they do

not. A hound that runs too fast for the rest, or that lags behind them,

should be immediately discarded. His hounds were between the large

slow-hunting harrier and the fox-beagle. He endeavoured to get as much

bone and strength in as little compass as possible. He acknowledges that

this was a difficult undertaking; but he had, at last, the pleasure to

see them handsome, small, yet bony, running well together, and fast

enough, with all the alacrity that could be desired, and hunting the

coldest scent.

He anticipates the present improvement of the chase when he lays it down

as a rule never to be departed from, that hounds of every kind should be

kept to their own game. They should have one scent, and one style of

hunting. Harriers will run a fox in so different a style from the

pursuit of a hare, that they will not readily, and often will not at

all, return to their proper work. The difference in the scent, and the

eagerness of pursuit, and the noise that accompanies fox-hunting, all

contribute to spoil a harrier.

Mr. Beckford pleasingly expresses a sportsman's consideration for the

poor animal which he is hunting to death.

"A hare," he says, "is a timorous little animal that we cannot help

feeling some compassion for at the time that we are pursuing her

destruction. We should give scope to all her little tricks, nor kill

her foully nor overmatched. Instinct instructs her to make a good

defence when not unfairly treated, and I will venture to say that, as

far as her own safety is concerned, she has more cunning than the fox,

and makes shifts to save her life far beyond all his artifice." [13]

THE FOX HOUND