A gentleman residing in the Tower of London had a terrier which he one
day lost, about seven miles from town. The dog attached himself to a
soldier, and notwithstanding the man went to town in an omnibus, the
dog followed the vehicle. When the soldier alighted from it, he went
to the barracks in St. James's Park, the dog continuing close behind
him. On examining the collar, the name and residence of the owner of
the dog were found on it. The soldier therefore brought him to the
Tower, and gave the above particulars. From this account it may be
supposed that the dog, having been familiar with the sight of
Guardsmen at the Tower, had followed one of them in hopes that he
belonged to that place, and therefore would conduct him to it.
I am not aware that any writer upon dogs has noticed one of their
peculiarities, that of curiosity. Let me give a curious and
well-authenticated instance of this property, which was communicated
to me by the owner of the dog. This animal was a Scotch terrier, named
Snob, and certainly a more singular dog has seldom been met with. His
master was commander of the fleet on the South American station, and
Snob embarked with him. He soon began to give proofs of his
extraordinary curiosity, for he liked to see everything that was going
forward in the ship. Snob, in fact, was a sort of Paul Pry. He watched
everything that was to be done. One night the sailors were kept up
aloft for some hours doing something to the sails; Snob remained on
the deck the whole time, looking very wise, and watching the sailors
with one paw lifted up. He would at other times wander between the
decks, looking at everything going forward; and when he had been shut
in the cabin he has frequently been observed standing on his hind legs
looking through the keyhole of the door, in order to watch the
proceedings which were carried on. I have a great respect for Snob,
who is still alive, and I have no doubt his curiosity is as great as
ever.
A curious instance of ferocity and affection in a terrier bitch is
recorded by Mr. Daniel:--After a very severe burst of upwards of an
hour, a fox was, by Mr. Daniel's hounds, run to earth, at Heney
Dovehouse, near Sudbury, in Suffolk. The terriers were lost; but as
the fox went to ground in view of the headmost hounds, and it was the
concluding day of the season, it was resolved to dig him out, and two
men from Sudbury brought a couple of terriers for that purpose. After
considerable labour, the hunted fox was got, and given to the hounds;
whilst they were breaking him, one of the terriers slipped back into
the earth, and again laid. After more digging, a bitch-fox was taken
out, and the terrier killed two cubs in the earth; three others were
saved from her fury, and which were begged by the owner of the bitch,
who said he should make her suckle them. This was laughed at as
impossible; however, the man was positive, and the cubs were given to
him. The bitch-fox was carried away, and turned into an earth in
another county. The terrier had behaved so well at earth, that she was
some days afterwards bought, with the cubs she had fostered, by Mr.
Daniel. The bitch continued regularly to suckle, and reared them until
able to shift for themselves. What adds to this singularity is, that
the terrier's whelp was nearly five weeks old, and the cubs could just
see, when this exchange of progeny was made.
The following is a proof not only of the kind disposition, but the
sense of a terrier.
A gentleman, from whom I received the anecdote, was walking one day
along a road in Lancashire, when he was _accosted_, if the term may be
used, by a terrier dog. The animal's gesticulations were at first so
strange and unusual, that he felt inclined to get out of its way. The
dog, however, at last, by various significant signs and expressive
looks, made his meaning known, and the gentleman, to the dog's great
delight, turned and followed him for a few hundred yards. He was led
to the banks of a canal, which he had not before seen, and there he
discovered a small dog struggling in the water for his life, and
nearly exhausted by his efforts to save himself from drowning. The
sides of the canal were bricked, with a low parapet wall rather higher
than the bank. The gentleman, by stooping down, with some difficulty
got hold of the dog and drew him out, his companion all the time
watching the proceedings. It cannot be doubted, but that in this
instance the terrier made use of the only means in his power to save
the other dog, and this in a way which showed a power of reasoning
equally strong with that of a human being, under a similar
circumstance.
I may here mention another instance of a terrier finding his way back
to his former home.
A gentleman residing near York went to London, and on his return
brought with him a young terrier dog, which had never been out of
London. He brought him to York in one of the coaches, and thence
conveyed him to his residence. Impatient of separation from his former
master, he took the first opportunity of escaping from the stable in
which he had been confined, and was seen running on the turnpike road
towards York by the boy who had him in charge, and who followed him
for some distance. A few days afterwards, the gentleman who had lost
the dog received a letter front London, acquainting him that the dog
was found lying at the door of his lodgings, his feet quite sore, and
in a most emaciated condition.
A few years ago, a blind terrier dog was brought from Cashiobury Park,
near Watford, to Windsor. On arriving at the latter place he became
very restless, and took the first opportunity of making his escape,
and, blind as he was, made his way back to Cashiobury Park, his native
place.
A correspondent informs me, that whilst he was taking a walk one
summer's evening, he observed two rough-looking men, having a bull-dog
with them, annoying a sickly-looking young gentleman, who was
accompanied by a terrier. The bull-dog at last seized the latter, and
would soon have killed it, had not my correspondent interfered. He was
then informed that a few years previous, when his master was in bed,
this little terrier came to his bedroom door, and scratched and
yelled to be admitted. When this had been done, he immediately rushed
to a closet-door in the room, at which he barked most furiously. His
master, becoming alarmed, fastened the door, and having obtained the
assistance of his servants, a notorious thief was discovered in the
closet.
Mr. White, of Selborne, relates a pleasing anecdote of affection,
which existed between two incongruous animals--a horse and a hen, and
which showed a mutual fellowship and kindness for each other. The
following anecdote, communicated to me by a clergyman in Devonshire,
affords another proof of affection between two animals of opposite
natures. I will give it in his own words:--
"Some few months since it was necessary to confine our little terrier
bitch, on account of distemper. The prison-door was constructed of
open bars; and shortly after the dog was placed in durance, we
observed a bantam cock gazing compassionately at the melancholy
inmate, who, doubtless, sadly missed its warm rug by the parlour fire.
At last the bantam contrived to squeeze through the bars, and a
friendship of a most unusual kind commenced. Pylades and Orestes,
Nisus and Euryalus, could not have been bound by closer bonds of
affection. The bantam scarcely forsook the poor prisoner's cell for
its daily food, and when it did the dog became uneasy, whining till
her friend returned, and then it was most amusing to watch the actions
of the biped and quadruped. As the dog became worse, so did the
bantam's attentions redouble; and by way of warming the dog, it took
its place between the forelegs, and then the little animal settled
luxuriously down on the bird, seeming to enjoy the warmth imparted by
the feathers. In this position, and nestled closely side by side, did
this curious pair pass some weeks, till death put an end to the poor
dog and this singular friendship. It must be added for the bantam's
honour, that he was most melancholy for some time afterwards."
The same clergyman also communicated to me the following anecdote
illustrative of the sagacity of terriers.
He says that "his brother-in-law, who has a house in Woburn Place, and
another in the City, had a wire-haired terrier named Bob, of
extraordinary sagacity. The dog's knowledge of London and his
adventures would form a little history. His master was in the habit,
occasionally, of spending a few days at Gravesend, but did not always
take his dog with him. Bob, left behind one day against his liking,
scampered off to London Bridge, and out of the numerous steamers
boarded the Gravesend boat, disembarked at that place, went to the
accustomed inn, and not finding his master there, got on board the
steamer again and returned to town. He then called at several places
usually frequented by his master, and afterwards went home to Woburn
Place. He has frequently been stolen, but always returns, sometimes in
sad plight, with a broken cord round his neck, and with signs of
ill-usage; but still he contrives to escape from the dog-stealers."
I once took a favourite terrier with me to a house I had hired in
Manchester Street. He had never been in London before. While the
carriage was unloading in which the dog had been conveyed, he was
missed, and I could hear nothing of him for nearly a fortnight; at the
end of that time he found his way back to the house, with a short cord
round his neck, which he had evidently gnawed off. How he came to find
his way back is not a little to be wondered at. His joy on seeing me
again I cannot forget. Poor Peter! when he got old, and my rides
became too long for him, he pretended to be lame after accompanying me
a short distance, and would then trot back without any appearance of
lameness.
The following anecdote proves the kind disposition of a terrier. A
kitten, only a few hours old, had been put into a pail of water, in
the stable-yard of an inn, for the purpose of drowning it. It had
remained there for a minute or two, until it was to all appearance
dead, when a terrier bitch, attached to the stables, took the kitten
from the water, and carried it off in her mouth. She suckled and
watched over it with great care, and it throve well. The dog was at
the same time suckling a puppy about ten weeks old, but which did not
seem at all displeased with the intruder.
I had once an opportunity of witnessing the sense of a terrier. I was
riding on Sunbury Common, where many roads diverge, when a terrier
ran up, evidently in pursuit of his master. On arriving at one of the
three roads, he put his nose to the ground and snuffed along it; he
then went to the second, and did the same; but when he came to the
third, he ran along it as fast as he could, without once putting down
his nose to the ground. This fact has been noticed by others, but I
never before witnessed it myself.
At Dunrobin Castle, in Sutherlandshire (then the seat of the Marquis
of Stafford now of the Duke of Sutherland), there was to be seen, in
May 1820, a terrier bitch nursing a brood of ducklings. She had a
litter of whelps a few weeks before, which were taken from her and
drowned. The unfortunate mother was quite disconsolate till she
perceived the brood of ducklings, which she immediately seized and
carried to her lair, where she retained them, following them out and
in with the greatest care, and nursing them, after her own fashion,
with the most affectionate anxiety. When the ducklings, following
their natural instinct, went into the water, their foster-mother
exhibited the utmost alarm; and as soon as they returned to land she
snatched them up in her mouth, and ran home with them. What adds to
the singularity of this circumstance is, that the same animal when
deprived of a litter of puppies the year preceding, seized two
cock-chickens, which she reared with the like care she bestows upon
her present family. When the young cocks began to try their voices,
their foster-mother was as much annoyed as she now seems to be by the
swimming of the ducklings, and never failed to repress their attempts
at crowing.
The foreman of a brickmaker, at Erith in Kent, went from home in
company with his wife, and left her at the Plough at Northend with his
brother, while he proceeded across the fields to inspect some repairs
at a cottage. In about an hour after his departure, his dog, a small
Scotch terrier, which had accompanied him, returned to the Plough,
jumped into the lap of his mistress, pawed her about, and whined
piteously. She at first took no particular notice of the animal, but
pushed him from her. He then caught hold of her clothes, pulled at
them repeatedly, and continued to whine incessantly. He endeavoured,
also, in a similar way to attract the attention of the brother. At
last all present noticed his importunate anxiety, and the wife then
said she was convinced something had happened to her husband. The
brother and the wife, with several others, went out and followed the
dog, who led them through the darkness of the night, which was very
great, to the top of a precipice, nearly fifty feet deep; and standing
on the bank, held his head over, and howled in a most distressing
manner. They were convinced that the poor man had fallen over; and
having gone round to the bottom of the pit, they found him, lying
under the spot indicated by the dog, quite dead.
The following anecdote is copied from a recent number of "The
Field:"--
I well remember, when a boy, at Barton-upon-Humber, a certain "keel"
employed in the Yorkshire corn-trade, on board which the captain had a
dog, possessed of some traces of terrier blood, smooth-coated, and of
a pure white colour, his neck and back adorned with stumpy bristles,
which ruffled up at the slightest provocation--altogether he looked a
mongrel cur enough, but he was an excellent sailor, for he attended
his master on all his trading expeditions, and never deserted his
ship. One day, while the keel lay in Barton Haven, the dog was lost,
and great was the consternation in consequence. Diligent search was
made in the town and neighbourhood, but every effort to discover the
missing animal proved unavailing. Month after month passed away, the
keel went and came on her accustomed avocations, and poor Keeper was
forgotten--considered by his master to be dead. Judge, therefore, the
man's surprise when one day steering with difficulty his vessel into
Goole Harbour, which was crowded with shipping at the time, his glance
suddenly fell upon his faithful and long-lost dog, buffeting the water
at a considerable distance from the keel, but making eagerly towards
her. By the aid of a piece of tar-rope, which was dangling round the
dog's neck, and a friendly boat-hook, he was lifted quite exhausted on
to the deck of his master's craft, when it became at once apparent
that he had long been kept a prisoner, most probably on board a
vessel, by some one who had stolen him at Barton. The cause of the
poor dog's sudden reappearance was undoubtedly his having heard his
master's well-remembered voice; but it is strange he should have been
able to distinguish at so great a distance, and when swelling that
chorus of hoarse bawling which arises from a hundred husky throats
when a Yorkshire keelman is engaged forcing his craft into a crowded
harbour; and it is also equally touching, that when roused by the
distant sound, the poor beast should have plunged, encumbered as he
was with the rope he had just burst asunder, so gallantly into the
water--an element he was ill-adapted to move in, and in which his
master declared he had never seen him before.
[Illustration]
[Illustration: THE BLENHEIM SPANIEL.]