about him at all times during his life. In one of his works he thus speaks of them: "The Almighty, who gave the dog to be the companion of our pleasures and our toils, has invested him with a nature noble and incapable of deceit. He forgets neither friend nor foe; remembers, and with accuracy, both benefit and injury. He has a share of man's intelligence, but no share of man's falsehood. You may bribe a soldier to slay a man with his sword, or a witness to take life by false accusation, but you cannot make a dog tear his benefactor. He is the friend of man, save when man justly incurs his enmity."

A long course of domestication, and peculiar modes of training and rearing, have divided the canine race into nearly a hundred varieties; many of which show marked difference in size and appearance. The savage bulldog seems hardly to belong to the same race as the delicate lapdog, that sleeps on the rug, and is washed and combed by its fair mistress almost as carefully as an infant. The swift and slim greyhound looks very little like the sturdy and square-built mastiff. But there are certain traits of character, which, in a greater or less degree, are common to all the kinds. Sagacity, docility, benevolence, a capacity to receive instruction, and attachment to his master's person, are qualities which belong to the whole race. Many anecdotes are to be found in books, illustrating the virtues and intelligence of the dog, from which we have made a selection for the entertainment of our young readers.

Many instances have been recorded in which persons have been saved from drowning by dogs, especially by those of the Newfoundland breed, which have a natural love of the water. A vessel was once driven by a storm on the beach in the county of Kent, in England. Eight men were calling 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 noble animal to the vessel, and put a short stick into his mouth. The intelligent and courageous dog at once understood his meaning, and sprang into the sea, fighting his way through the foaming waves. He could not, however, get close enough to the vessel to de

liver that with which he was charged, but the crew joyfully made fast a rope to another piece of wood, and threw it towards him. The sagacious dog saw the whole business in an instant; he dropped his own piece, and immediately seized that which had been cast to him; and then, with a degree of strength and determination almost incredible, he dragged it through the surge, and delivered it to his master. By this means a line of communication was formed, and every man on board saved.

A person, while rowing a boat, pushed his Newfoundland dog into the stream. The animal followed the boat for some time, till probably finding himself fatigued, he endeavored to get into it by placing his feet on the side. His owner repeatedly pushed the dog away; and in one of his efforts to do so, he lost his balance and fell in the river, and would probably have been drowned, had not the affectionate and generous animal immediately seized and held him above water till assistance arrived from the shore.

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.

Nor are the good offices of dogs to man displayed only on the water. A young man in the north of England, while he was attending the sheep of his father, had the misfortune to fall and break his leg. He was three miles from home, in an unfrequented spot, where no one was likely to approach; evening was fast approaching, and he was in great pain from the fracture. In this dreadful condition, he folded one of his gloves in a pocket handkerchief, fastened it around the dog's neck, and then ordered him home in an emphatic tone of voice.

The dog, convinced that something was wrong, ran home with the utmost speed, and scratched with great violence at the door of the house for admittance. The parents of the young man were greatly alarmed at his appearance, especially when they had examined the handkerchief and its contents. Instantly concluding that some accident had befallen their son, they did

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not delay a moment to go in search of him. The dog anxiously led the way, and conducted the agitated parents to the spot, where their suffering son was lying. Happily, he was removed just at the close of day, and the necessary assistance being procured, he soon recovered.

On one of the roads leading from Switzerland to Italy, called the Pass of St. Bernard, is a convent * situated at more than eight thousand feet above the level of the sea. In the winter time, when the cold is intense and the snows are deep, travellers are exposed to great danger; and the inmates of the convent, when storms are raging, are in the habit of going abroad to assist such wayfarers as may need their services. They are accompanied by their dogs, a noble breed of animals, who are called by the name of the convent where they are kept. They carry food and cordials fastened at their necks, and are able to pass over snow wreaths too light to bear the weight of a man. They are aided in finding the unfortunate persons who have been buried in the snow by the acuteness of their scent; and many men have owed their lives to the timely succor afforded by these four-footed philanthropists.

One of them, which served the convent for twelve years, is said to have been instrumental in saving the lives of forty individuals. He once found a little boy, who had become benumbed by the cold, and fallen down upon a wreath of snow. By licking his hands and face, and by his caresses, he induced the little fellow to get upon his back, and cling with his arms around his neck; and in this way he brought him in triumph to the convent. This incident forms the subject of a well-known picture. When this dog died, his skin was stuffed and deposited in the museum at Berne; and the little vial in which he carried a cordial draught for the exhausted traveller still hangs about his neck. How many men have there been, endowed with reason and speech, whose lives were less useful than that of this noble dog!

* Convent, a house in which men live together who are occupied with religious exercises or employments.

XVIII. - THE SAME SUBJECT, CONCLUDED.

In the preceding lesson we gave some anecdotes of the benevolence of dogs, and of their amiable and kindly traits; we will now relate some instances of their intelligence and sagacity.

Two gentlemen in England were shooting wild fowl, attended by a Newfoundland dog. In getting near some reeds by the side of a river, they threw down their hats, and crept to the edge of the water, where 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. This seems more than instinct, and like a distinct process of reasoning. A shoeblack, who plied his calling on one of the bridges in Paris, had a poodle dog whose sagacity brought no small profit to his master. If the dog saw a person with well-polished boots go across the bridge, he contrived to run against the boots and soil them, having first rolled himself in the mud of the river. His master was then employed to clean them. An English gentleman, who had more than once had his boots thus disfigured by the dog, was at last induced to watch his proceedings, and thus detected the tricks he was playing for his master's benefit. He was so much pleased with the animal's sagacity, that he purchased him at a high price, and conveyed him to London. On arriving there, he was confined to the house till he appeared perfectly satisfied with his new home and his new master. He at last, however, contrived to escape, and made his way back to Paris, where he rejoined his old master, and resumed his former occupation.

A grocer in Edinburgh had a dog which for some time amused and astonished the people in the neighborhood. A man who went through the streets, ringing a bell and selling pies,

happened one day to treat this dog with a pie. The next time he heard the pieman's bell, he ran eagerly towards him, seized him by the coat, and would not suffer him to pass. The pieman, who understood what the animal wanted, showed him a penny, and pointed to his master, who stood at his door, watching what was going on. The dog immediately supplicated his master by many humble gestures and looks, and on receiving a penny, he instantly carried it in his mouth to the pieman, and received his pie. This traffic between the pieman and the grocer's dog continued to be daily practised for several months.

There seems very little doubt that dogs often understand what is said to them, or in their presence. "The wisest dog I ever had," said Sir Walter Scott, "was what is called the bulldog terrier. I taught him to understand a great many words, insomuch that I am positive that the communication between the canine species and ourselves might be greatly enlarged. Camp once bit the baker who was bringing bread to the family. I beat him, and explained the enormity of his offence; after which, to the last moment of his life, he never heard the least allusion to the story, in whatever voice or tone it was mentioned, without getting up and retiring into the darkest corner of the room, with great appearance of distress. Then if you said, 'the baker was well paid,' or, 'the baker was not hurt after all,' Camp came forth from his hiding place, capered, and barked, and rejoiced.

"When he was unable, towards the end of his life, to attend me when on horseback, he used to watch for my return, and the servant would tell him 'his master was coming down the hill, or through the moor;' and although he did not use any gesture to explain his meaning, Camp was never known to mistake him, but either went out at the front to go up the hill, or at the back to get down to the moor side. He certainly had a singular knowledge of spoken language."

A gentleman in Hartford, Connecticut, had a fine large dog, which was in the habit, in the winter season, of stretching himself out at full length on the rug before the parlor fire. His