"Nor will it less delight th' attentive sage,
T' observe that instinct which unerring guides
The brutal race, which mimics reason's lore,
And oft transcends.
* * * *
The dog, whom nothing can mislead,
Must be a dog of parts indeed.
Is often wiser than his master."
SOMMERVILLE.
This noble dog may be justly styled the friend and guardian of his
master. I had some doubts in making out my list of dogs, whether he
ought not to take precedence of all others; but, after duly weighing
the matter in my own mind, I have given the palm to the Irish
wolf-hound, and the honest Newfoundland immediately follows him. I not
only think that this precedence will gratify some of my friends in
Ireland, who have called upon me to do justice to one of their
favourite and national emblems, but it is, perhaps, due in strict
justice to an animal who proved himself so great a benefactor to his
native country. There is, moreover, such a degree of romance attached
to the recollection of his fine qualities and imposing appearance,
that I should be sorry to lessen them by appearing to give the
preference to any other dog. At the same time I may be allowed to add,
that I have seen such courage, perseverance, and fidelity in the
Newfoundland dog, and am acquainted with so many well-authenticated
facts of his more than ordinary sense and utility, that I think him
entitled to be considered as little inferior to the Irish wolf-dog.
When we reflect on the docility of the Newfoundland dog, his
affectionate disposition, his aptitude in receiving instruction, and
his instantaneous sense of impending danger, we shall no longer wonder
at his being called the friend of his master, whom he is at all times
ready to defend at the risk of his own life. How noble is his
appearance, and at the same time how serene is his countenance!
"Sa fierte, sa beaute, sa jeunesse agreable
Le fit cherir de vous, et il est redoutable
A vos fiers ennemis par sa courage."
No animal, perhaps, can show more real courage than this dog. His
perseverance in what he undertakes is so great, that he never
relinquishes an attempt which has been enjoined him as long as there
is a chance of success. I allude more particularly to storms at sea
and consequent shipwreck, when his services, his courage, and
indefatigable exertions, have been truly wonderful. Numerous persons
have been saved from a watery grave by these dogs, and ropes have been
conveyed by them from a sinking ship to the shore amidst foaming
billows, by which means whole crews have been saved from destruction.
Their feet are particularly well adapted to enable them to swim, being
webbed very much like those of a duck, and they are at all times ready
to plunge into the water to save a human being from drowning. Some
dogs delight in following a fox, others in hunting the hare, or
killing vermin. The delight of the Newfoundland dog appears to be in
the preservation of the lives of the human race. A story is related on
good authority of one of these dogs being in the habit, when he saw
persons swimming in the Seine at Paris, of seizing them and bringing
them to the shore. In the immediate neighbourhood of Windsor a servant
was saved from drowning by a Newfoundland dog, who seized him by the
collar of his coat when he was almost exhausted, and brought him to
the banks, where some of the family were assembled watching with great
anxiety the exertions of the noble animal.
Those who were much at Windsor, not many years since, must have seen a
fine Newfoundland dog, called Baby, reposing occasionally in front of
the White Hart Hotel. Baby was a general favourite, and he deserved to
be so; for he was mild in his disposition, brave as a lion, and very
sensible. When he was thirsty, and could not procure water at the pump
in the yard, he has frequently been seen to go to the stable, fetch an
empty bucket, and stand with it in his mouth at the pump till some one
came for water. He then, by wagging his tail and expressive looks,
made his want known, and had his bucket filled. Exposed as Baby was to
the attacks of all sorts of curs, as he slumbered in the sun in front
of the hotel, he seemed to think that a pat with his powerful paw was
quite sufficient punishment for them, but he never tamely submitted to
insult from a dog approaching his own size, and his courage was only
equalled by his gentleness.
The following anecdote, which is well authenticated, shows the
sagacity as well as the kindliness of disposition of these dogs. In
the city of Worcester, one of the principal streets leads by a gentle
declivity to the river Severn. One day a child, in crossing the
street, fell down in the middle of it, and a horse and cart, which
were descending the hill, would have passed over it, had not a
Newfoundland dog rushed to the rescue of the child, caught it up in
his mouth, and conveyed it in safety to the foot pavement.
My kind friend, Mr. T----, took a Newfoundland dog and a small spaniel
into a boat with him on the river Thames, and when he got into the
middle of the river, he turned them into the water. They swam
different ways, but the spaniel got into the current, and after
struggling some time was in danger of being drowned. As soon as the
Newfoundland dog perceived the predicament of his companion, he swam
to his assistance, and brought him safe to the shore.
A vessel went down in a gale of wind near Liverpool, and every one on
board perishes. A Newfoundland dog was seen swimming about the place
where the vessel was lost for some time, and at last came on shore
very much exhausted. For three days he swam off to the same spot, and
was evidently trying to find his lost master, so strong was his
affection.
* * * * *
I have always been pleased with that charming remark of Sir Edwin
Landseer, that the Newfoundland dog was a "distinguished Member of the
Humane Society." How delightfully has that distinguished artist
portrayed the character of dogs in his pictures! and what justice has
he done to their noble qualities! We see in them honesty, fidelity,
courage, and sense--no exaggeration--no flattery. He makes us feel
that his dogs will love us without selfishness, and defend us at the
risk of their own lives--that though friends may forsake us, they
never will--and that in misfortune, poverty, and death, their
affection will be unchanged, and their gratitude unceasing. But to
return to the Newfoundland dog, and we shall again find him acting his
part as a Member of the Humane Society.
A gentleman bathing in the sea at Portsmouth, was in the greatest
danger of being drowned. Assistance was loudly called for, but no boat
was ready, and though many persons were looking on, no one could be
found to go to his help. In this predicament, a Newfoundland dog
rushed into the sea and conveyed the gentleman in safety to land. He
afterwards purchased the dog for a large sum, treated him as long as
he lived with gratitude and kindness, and had the following words
worked on his table-cloths and napkins--"_Virum extuli mari_."
A person, in crossing a plank at a mill, fell into the stream at
night, and was saved by his Newfoundland dog, and who afterwards
recovered his hat, which had fallen from his head, and was floating
down the stream.
There can be no doubt but that dogs calculate, and almost reason. A
dog who had been in the habit of stealing from a kitchen, which had
two doors opening into it, would never do so if one of them was shut,
as he was afraid of being caught. If both the doors were open, his
chance of escape was greater, and he therefore seized what he could.
This sort of calculation, if I may call it is so, was shown by a
Newfoundland bitch. She had suckled two whelps until they were able to
take care of themselves. They were, however, constantly following and
disturbing her in order to be suckled, when she had little or no milk
to give them. She was confined in a shed, which was separated from
another by a wooden partition some feet high. Into this shed she
conveyed her puppies, and left them there while she returned to the
other to enjoy a night's rest unmolested. This shows that the animal
was capable of reflecting to a degree beyond what would have been the
result of mere instinct.
The late Rev. James Simpson, of the Potterrow congregation, Edinburgh,
had a large dog of the Newfoundland breed. At that time he lived at
Libberton, a distance of two miles from Edinburgh, in a house to which
was attached a garden. One Sacrament Sunday the servant, who was left
at home in charge of the house, thought it a good opportunity to
entertain her friends, as her master and mistress were not likely to
return home till after the evening's service, about nine o'clock.
During the day the dog accompanied them through the garden, and indeed
wherever they went, in the most attentive manner, and seemed well
pleased. In the evening, when the time arrived that the party meant to
separate, they proceeded to do so; but the dog, the instant they went
to the door, interposed, and placing himself before it, would not
allow one of them to touch the handle. On their persisting and
attempting to use force he became furious, and in a menacing manner
drove them back into the kitchen, where he kept them until the arrival
of Mr. and Mrs. Simpson, who were surprised to find the party at so
late an hour, and more so to see the dog standing sentinel over them.
Being thus detected, the servant acknowledged the whole circumstance,
when her friends were allowed to depart, after being admonished by the
worthy divine in regard to the proper use of the Sabbath. They could
not but consider the dog as an instrument in the hand of Providence to
point out the impropriety of spending this holy day in feasting rather
than in the duties of religion.
After the above circumstance, it became necessary for Mr. Simpson, on
account of his children's education, to leave his country residence,
when he took a house in Edinburgh in a common stair. Speaking of this,
one day, to a friend who had visited him, he concluded that he would
be obliged to part with his dog, as he was too large an animal to be
kept in such a house. The animal was present, and heard him say so,
and must have understood what he meant, as he disappeared that
evening, and was never afterwards heard of. These circumstances have
been related to me by an elder of Mr. Simpson's congregation, who had
them from himself.
* * * * *
I am indebted to the late amiable Lord Stowell for the following
anecdote, which has since been verified by Mr. Henry Wix, brother of
the archdeacon:--
A Newfoundland dog belonging to Archdeacon Wix, which had never
quitted the island, was brought over to London by him in January
1834, and when he and his family landed at Blackwall the dog was left
on board the vessel. A few days afterwards the Archdeacon went from
the Borough side of the Thames in a boat to the vessel, which was then
in St. Katherine's Docks, to see about his luggage, but did not intend
at that time to take the dog from the ship; however, on his leaving
the vessel the dog succeeded in extricating himself from his
confinement, jumped overboard, and swam after the boat across the
Thames, followed his master into a counting-house on Gun-shot Wharf,
Tooley Street, and then over London Bridge and through the City to St.
Bartholomew's Hospital. The dog was shut within the square whilst the
Archdeacon went into his father's house, and he then followed him on
his way to Russell Square, but strayed somewhere in Holborn; and as
several gentlemen had stopped to admire him in the street, saying he
was worth a great deal of money, the Archdeacon concluded that some
dog-stealer had enticed him away. He however wrote to the captain of
the vessel to mention his loss, and made inquiries on the following
morning at St. Bartholomew's Hospital, when he learnt that the dog had
come to the gates late in the evening, and howled most piteously for
admission, but was driven away. Two days afterwards the captain of the
vessel waited on the Archdeacon with the dog, who had not only found
his way back to the water's edge, on the Borough side, but, what is
more surprising, swam across the Thames, where no scent could have
directed him, and found out the vessel in St. Katherine's Docks.
This sagacious and affectionate creature had, previous to his leaving
Newfoundland, saved his master's life by directing his way home when
lost in a snow-storm many miles from any shelter.
The dog was presented to the Archdeacon's uncle, Thomas Poynder, Esq.,
Clapham Common, in whose possession it continued until its death.
* * * * *
Every particular has been faithfully given of this extraordinary
occurrence. Here we see a dog brought for the first time from
Newfoundland, and who can scarcely be said to have put his feet on
ground in England, not only finding his way through a crowded city to
the banks of the river, but also finding the ship he wanted in that
river, and in which he evidently thought he should discover his lost
master. It is an instance of sense of so peculiar a kind that it is
difficult to define it, or the faculty which enables animals to find
their way to a place over ground which they had not previously
traversed.
* * * * *
A gentleman of Suffolk, on an excursion with his friend, was attended
by a Newfoundland dog, which soon became the subject of conversation.
The master, after a warm eulogium upon the perfections of his canine
favourite, assured his companion that he would, upon receiving the
order, return and fetch any article he should leave behind, from any
distance. To confirm this assertion, a marked shilling was put under a
large square stone by the side of the road, being first shown to the
dog. The gentlemen then rode for three miles, when the dog received
his signal from the master to return for the shilling he had seen put
under the stone. The dog turned back; the gentlemen rode on, and
reached home; but to their surprise and disappointment the hitherto
faithful messenger did not return during the day. It afterwards
appeared that he had gone to the place where the shilling was
deposited, but the stone being too large for his strength to remove,
he had stayed howling at the place till two horsemen riding by, and
attracted by his seeming distress, stopped to look at him, when one of
them alighting, removed the stone, and seeing the shilling, put it
into his pocket, not at the time conceiving it to be the object of the
dog's search. The dog followed their horses for twenty miles, remained
undisturbed in the room where they supped, followed the chambermaid
into the bedchamber, and secreted himself under one of the beds. The
possessor of the shilling hung his trousers upon a nail by the
bed-side; but when the travellers were both asleep, the dog took them
in his mouth, and leaping out of the window, which was left open on
account of the sultry heat, reached the house of his master at four
o'clock in the morning with the prize he had made free with, in the
pocket of which were found a watch and money, that were returned upon
being advertised, when the whole mystery was mutually unravelled, to
the admiration of all the parties.[I]
Many years ago, I saw a horse belonging to a quartermaster in the 1st
Dragoon Guards, when the regiment was quartered at Ipswich, find a
shilling, which was covered with sawdust, in the riding-school at the
Cavalry Barracks at that place, and give it to his owner. I thought
this a wonderful instance of sagacity as well as docility, but how
very far does this fall short of the intellectual faculty of dogs! I
do not intend to assert that they are endowed with mental powers equal
to those which the human race possess, but to contend that there is
not a faculty of the human mind of which some evident proofs of its
existence may not be found in dogs. Thus we find them possessed of
memory, imagination, the powers of imitation, curiosity, cunning,
revenge, ingenuity, gratitude, devotion, or affection, and other
qualities. They are able to communicate their wants, their pleasures,
and their pains, their apprehensions of danger, and their prospects of
future good, by modulating their voices accordingly, and by
significant gestures. They perfectly comprehend our wishes, and live
with us as friends and companions. When the fear of man and dread of
him were inflicted as a curse on the animal creation, the dog-kind
alone seems an exception, and their sagacity and fidelity to the
human race was an incalculable blessing bestowed upon them. These
remarks are fully borne out in a very interesting article on the dog
in the "Quarterly Review" of September, 1843.
A fine, handsome, and valuable black dog of the Newfoundland species,
belonging to Mr. Floyd, solicitor, Holmfirth, committed suicide by
drowning itself in the river which flows at the back of its owner's
habitation. For some days previous the animal seemed less animated
than usual, but on this particular occasion he was noticed to throw
himself into the water and endeavour to sink by preserving perfect
stillness of the legs and feet. Being dragged out of the stream, the
dog was tied up for a time, but had no sooner been released than he
again hastened to the water and again tried to sink, and was again got
out. This occurred many times, until at length the animal with
repeated efforts appeared to get exhausted, and by dint of keeping his
head determinedly under water for a few minutes succeeded at last in
obtaining his object, for when taken out this time he was indeed dead.
The case is worth recording, as affording another proof of the general
instinct and sagacity of the canine race.
Mr. Nicol, late of Pall Mall, told me he saw an old foxhound
deliberately drown itself, and was ready to make oath of it.
Mrs. Kaye, residing opposite Windsor Park Wall, Datchet, had a
beautiful Newfoundland dog. For the convenience of the family a boat
was kept, that they might at times cross the water without the
inconvenience of going a considerable way round to Datchet Bridge. The
dog was so delighted with the aquatic trips, that he very rarely
permitted the boat to go without him. It happened that the coachman,
who had been but little accustomed to the depths and shallows of the
water, intending a forcible push with the punt pole, which was not
long enough to reach the bottom, fell over the side of the boat in the
deepest part of the water, and in the central part of the current,
which accident was observed by a part of the family then at the front
windows of the house; sudden and dreadful as the alarm was, they had
the consolation of seeing the sagacious animal instantaneously follow
his companion, when after diving, and making two or three abortive
attempts, by laying hold of different parts of his apparel, which as
repeatedly gave way or overpowered his exertions, he then, with the
most determined and energetic fortitude, seized him by the arm, and
brought him to the edge of the bank, where the domestics of the
terrified family were ready to assist in extricating him from his
perilous situation.[J]
I have mentioned that revenge had been shown by dogs, and the
following is an instance of it. A gentleman was staying at Worthing,
where his Newfoundland dog was teased and annoyed by a small cur,
which snapped and barked at him. This he bore, without appearing to
notice it, for some time; but at last the Newfoundland dog seemed to
lose his usual patience and forbearance, and he one day, in the
presence of several spectators, took the cur up by his back, swam with
it into the sea, held it under the water, and would probably have
drowned it, had not a boat been put off and rescued it. There was
another instance communicated to me. A fine Newfoundland dog had been
constantly annoyed by a small spaniel. The former, seizing the
opportunity when they were on a terrace under which a river flowed,
took up the spaniel in his mouth, and dropped it over the parapet into
the river.
Jukes, in his "Excursions in and about Newfoundland," says, "A thin,
short-haired black dog, belonging to George Harvey, came off to us
to-day; this animal was of a breed very different from what we
understand by the term Newfoundland dog in England. He had a thin
tapering snout, a long thin tail, and rather thin but powerful legs,
with a lank body, the hair short and smooth. These are the most
abundant dogs of the country, the long-haired curly dogs being
comparatively rare. They are by no means handsome, but are generally
more intelligent and useful than the others. This one caught his own
fish; he sat on a projecting rock beneath a fish-lake or stage, where
the fish are laid to dry, watching the water, which had a depth of six
or eight feet, the bottom of which was white with fish-bones. On
throwing a piece of codfish into the water, three or four heavy,
clumsy-looking fish, called in Newfoundland sculpins, with great heads
and mouths, and many spines about them, and generally about a foot
long, would swim in to catch it. These he would '_set_' attentively,
and the moment one turned his broadside to him, he darted down like a
fish-hawk, and seldom came up without the fish in his mouth. As he
caught them he carried them regularly to a place a few yards off,
where he laid them down; and they told us that in the summer he would
sometimes make a pile of fifty or sixty a-day just at that place. He
never attempted to eat them, but seemed to be fishing purely for his
own amusement. I watched him for about two hours, and when the fish
did not come I observed he once or twice put his right foot in the
water, and paddled it about. This foot was white, and Harvey said he
did it to _toll_ or entice the fish; but whether it was for that
specific reason, or merely a motion of impatience, I could not exactly
decide."
Extraordinary as the following anecdote may appear to some persons, it
is strictly true, and strongly shows the sense, and I am almost
inclined to add, reason of the Newfoundland dog.
A friend of mine, while shooting wild fowl with his brother, was
attended by a sagacious dog of this breed. In getting near some reeds
by the side of a river, they threw down their hats, and crept to the
edge of the water, when they fired at some birds. They soon afterwards
sent the dog to bring their hats, one of which was smaller than the
other. After several attempts to bring them both together in his
mouth, the dog at last placed the smaller hat in the larger one,
pressed it down with his foot, and thus was able to bring them both at
the same time.
A gentleman residing in Fifeshire, and not far from the city of St.
Andrews, was in possession of a very fine Newfoundland dog, which was
remarkable alike for its tractability and its trustworthiness. At two
other points, each distant about a mile, and at the same distance from
this gentleman's mansion, there were two dogs of great power, but of
less tractable breeds than the Newfoundland one. One of these was a
large mastiff, kept as a watch-dog by a farmer, and the other a stanch
bull-dog, that kept guard over the parish mill. As each of these three
was lord-ascendant of all animals at his master's residence, they all
had a good deal of aristocratic pride and pugnacity, so that two of
them seldom met without attempting to settle their respective
dignities by a wager of battle.
The Newfoundland dog was of some service in the domestic arrangements,
besides his guardianship of the house; for every forenoon he was sent
to the baker's shop in the village, about half-a-mile distant, with a
towel containing money in the corner, and he returned with the value
of the money in bread. There were many useless and not over-civil curs
in the village, as there are in too many villages throughout the
country; but generally the haughty Newfoundland treated this ignoble
race in that contemptuous style in which great dogs are wont to
treat little ones. When the dog returned from the baker's shop, he
used to be regularly served with his dinner, and went peaceably on
house-duty for the rest of the day.
One day, however, he returned with his coat dirtied and his ears
scratched, having been subjected to a combined attack of the curs
while he had charge of his towel and bread, and so could not defend
himself. Instead of waiting for his dinner as usual, he laid down his
charge somewhat sulkily, and marched off; and, upon looking after him,
it was observed that he was crossing the intervening hollow in a
straight line for the house of the farmer, or rather on an embassy to
the farmer's mastiff. The farmer's people noticed this unusual visit,
which they were induced to do from its being a meeting of peace
between those who had habitually been belligerents. After some
intercourse, of which no interpretation could be given, the two set
off together in the direction of the mill; and having arrived there,
they in brief space engaged the miller's bull-dog as an ally.
The straight road to the village where the indignity had been offered
to the Newfoundland dog passed immediately in front of his master's
house, but there was a more private and more circuitous road by the
back of the mill. The three took this road, reached the village,
scoured it in great wrath, putting to the tooth every cur they could
get sight of; and having taken their revenge, and washed themselves in
a ditch, they returned, each dog to the abode of his master; and,
when any two of them happened to meet afterwards, they displayed the
same pugnacity as they had done previous to this joint expedition.
There is a well-authenticated anecdote of two dogs at Donaghadee, in
which the instinctive daring of the one by the other caused a
friendship, and, as it should seem, a kind of lamentation for the
dead, after one of them had paid the debt of nature. This happened
while the Government harbour or pier for the packets at Donaghadee was
in the course of building, and it took place in the sight of several
witnesses. The one dog in this case was also a Newfoundland, and the
other was a mastiff. They were both powerful dogs; and though each was
good-natured when alone, they were very much in the habit of fighting
when they met. One day they had a fierce and prolonged battle on the
pier, from the point of which they both fell into the sea; and as the
pier was long and steep, they had no means of escape but by swimming a
considerable distance. Throwing water upon fighting dogs is an
approved means of putting an end to their hostilities; and it is
natural to suppose that two combatants of the same species tumbling
themselves into the sea would have the same effect. It had; and each
began to make for the land as best he could. The Newfoundland being an
excellent swimmer, very speedily gained the pier, on which he stood
shaking himself; but at the same time watching the motions of his late
antagonist, which, being no swimmer, was struggling exhausted in the
water, and just about to sink. In dashed the Newfoundland dog, took
the other gently by the collar, kept his head above water, and brought
him safely on shore. There was a peculiar kind of recognition between
the two animals; they never fought again; they were always together:
and when the Newfoundland dog had been accidentally killed by the
passage of a stone waggon on the railway over him, the other
languished and evidently lamented for a long time.
A gentleman had a pointer and Newfoundland dog, which were great
friends. The former broke his leg, and was confined to a kennel.
During that time the Newfoundland never failed bringing bones and
other food to the pointer, and would sit for hours together by the
side of his suffering friend.
During a period of very hot weather, the Mayor of Plymouth gave orders
that all dogs found wandering in the public streets should be secured
by the police, and removed to the prison-yard. Among them was a
Newfoundland dog belonging to a shipowner of the port, who, with
several others, was tied up in the yard. The Newfoundland soon gnawed
the rope which confined him, and then hearing the cries of his
companions to be released, he set to work to gnaw the ropes which
confined them, and had succeeded in three or four instances, when he
was interrupted by the entrance of the jailor.
A nearly similar case has frequently occurred in the Cumberland
Gardens, Windsor Great Park. Two dogs of the Newfoundland breed were
confined in kennels at that place. When one of them was let loose, he
has been frequently seen to set his companion free.
A boatman once plunged into the water to swim with another man for a
wager. His Newfoundland dog, mistaking the purpose, and supposing that
his master was in danger, plunged after him, and dragged him to the
shore by his hair, to the great diversion of the spectators.
Mr. Peter Macarthur informs me, that in the year 1821, when opposite
to Falmouth, he was at breakfast with a gentleman, when a large
Newfoundland dog, all dripping with water, entered the room, and laid
a newspaper on the table. The gentleman (who was one of the Society of
Friends) informed the party, that this dog swam regularly across the
ferry every morning, and went to the post-office, and fetched the
papers of the day.
Mr. Blaine, in his "Encyclopaedia of Rural Sports," tells the following
story:--A Newfoundland dog, of the small, smooth-haired variety, in
coming to England from his native country, was washed overboard during
a tempestuous night. As daylight appeared the gale ceased, when a
sailor at the mast-head descried something far in the wake of the
vessel, which, by the help of his glass, he was led to believe was the
dog, which was so great a favourite with the crew that it was
unanimously requested of the captain of the vessel to _lie to_, and
wait for the chance of saving the poor brute. The captain, who had
probably lost some time already by the storm, peremptorily refused to
listen to the humane proposal. Whether it was the kindly feeling of
the sailors, or the superstitious dread that if the dog were suffered
to perish nothing would afterwards prosper with them, we are not
informed; but we do know that, as soon as a refusal was made, the
steersman left the helm, roundly asserting that he for one would never
lend a hand to steer away from either Christian or brute in distress.
The feeling was immediately caught by the rest of the crew, and
maintained so resolutely, that the captain was forced to accede to the
general wish; and the poor dog eventually reached the ship in safety,
after having been, as we were informed, and implicitly believe, some
hours in a tempestuous sea.
Bewick mentions an instance which shows the extraordinary sagacity of
these dogs.
In a severe storm, a ship was lost off Yarmouth, and no living
creature escaped, except a Newfoundland dog, which swam to the shore
with the captain's pocket-book in his mouth. Several of the bystanders
attempted to take it from him, but he would not part with it. At
length, selecting one person from the crowd, whose appearance probably
pleased him, he leaped against his breast in a fawning manner, and
delivered the book to his care.
After mentioning this anecdote it will not be displeasing to read Lord
Grenville's lines on his faithful Newfoundland, as they may now be
seen at Dropmore, with the translation of them:--