← catalogue

Anecdotes of the Habits and Instinct of Animals

by Mrs. R. Lee · English · Gutenberg #21973 · 603,103 chars · public domain (US)

The Project Gutenberg eBook of Anecdotes of the Habits and Instinct of Animals
    
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online
at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States,
you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located
before using this eBook.

Title: Anecdotes of the Habits and Instinct of Animals

Author: Mrs. R. Lee

Illustrator: Harrison Weir


        
Release date: June 30, 2007 [eBook #21973]

Language: English

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/21973

Credits: Produced by David Edwards, Marcia Brooks and the Online
        Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
        file was produced from images generously made available
        by The University of Florida, The Internet
        Archive/Children's Library)


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ANECDOTES OF THE HABITS AND INSTINCT OF ANIMALS ***




Produced by David Edwards, Marcia Brooks and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The University of Florida, The Internet
Archive/Children's Library)






[Illustration: THE MONKEY PAINTER--Page 7.]

ANECDOTES
OF
THE HABITS AND INSTINCT
OF ANIMALS.

BY MRS. R. LEE,

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

WITH

ILLUSTRATIONS BY HARRISON WEIR.

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

M.DCCC.LII.

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




PREFACE.


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

       *       *       *       *       *

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

       *       *       *       *       *

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

       *       *       *       *       *

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

       *       *       *       *       *

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




CONTENTS.

                                                        PAGE

MONKEYS, ETC.                                              1

BATS                                                      33

MOLES                                                     41

HEDGEHOGS                                                 47

BEARS                                                     51

BADGERS                                                   66

WEASELS                                                   73

OTTERS                                                    78

DOGS                                                      83

WOLVES                                                   162

FOXES                                                    174

HYÆNAS                                                   180

LIONS                                                    186

TIGERS                                                   213

LEOPARDS, PANTHERS, ETC.                                 224

CATS                                                     237

SQUIRRELS                                                250

RATS                                                     254

MICE                                                     266

ELEPHANTS                                                271

HIPPOPOTAMUS                                             294

HOGS                                                     297

RHINOCEROSES                                             307

HORSES                                                   312

THE ASS                                                  333

CAMELS.--DROMEDARIES                                     339

LLAMAS, ETC.                                             344

DEER                                                     347

GIRAFFES                                                 354

ANTELOPES                                                358

GOATS                                                    363

SHEEP                                                    368

OXEN                                                     373




ANECDOTES OF ANIMALS.




THE QUADRUMANA, OR MONKEY TRIBE.


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"'More fool you,' said the monkeys.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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




BATS.


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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




MOLES.


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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




HEDGEHOGS.


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

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

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

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

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




BEARS.


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

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

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

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

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

[Illustration: THE BEAR AND HER CUBS.--Page 54.]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[2] L'Acadie.

[3] Ruxton.




BADGERS.


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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




WEASELS.


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

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

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

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

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




OTTERS.


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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




DOGS.


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Illustration: THE SHEPHERD'S DOG AND CUR.--Page 102.]

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

Mr. Hogg, the Ettrick shepherd, is the person of all others to give an
adequate idea of the shepherd's dog, and I use very nearly his own
words. "My dog Sirrah, was beyond all comparison the best dog I ever
saw; he was of a surly, unsocial temper; disdaining all flattery, he
refused to be caressed; but his attention to my commands and interests
will never again, perhaps, be equalled by any of the canine race. I
thought I discovered a sort of sullen intelligence in his countenance,
notwithstanding his dejected and forlorn appearance; I gave a drover a
guinea for him. He was scarcely a year old, and knew so little of
herding, that he had never turned a sheep in his life; but as soon as he
discovered that it was his duty to do so, and that it obliged me, I can
never forget with what eagerness and anxiety he learned his evolutions.
He would try every way deliberately, till he found out what I wanted him
to do, and when I once made him understand a direction, he never forgot
or mistook it again. Well as I knew him, he often astonished me; for
when pressed hard in accomplishing the task that he was put to, he had
expedients of the moment, that bespoke a great share of the reasoning
faculty.

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

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

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

The original St. Bernard dog, which has for years been the object of so
much interest, resembles the Newfoundland in form, hair, color and size.
Another race with close, short hair, is trained to the same services;
and one of the latter belonged to me for some time, establishing himself
in the good graces of every one by his good temper and fidelity. He
must, however, with all his good qualities yield to Bass, the property
of Sir Thomas Dick Lauder, who thus writes of him. "My St. Bernard was
brought home direct from the Great St. Bernard, when he was a puppy of
about four or five months. His bark is tremendous; so loud, indeed, that
I have often distinguished it nearly a mile off. He had been missing for
some time; when, to my great joy, one of the letter carriers brought
him back; and the man's account was, that in going along a certain
street, he heard his bark from the inside of a yard, and knew it
immediately. He knocked at the gate, and said to the owner of the
premises 'You have got Sir Thomas Lauder's big dog.' The man denied it.
'But I know you have,' continued the letter carrier, 'I can swear that I
heard the bark of Sir Thomas's big dog; for there is no dog in, or about
all Edinburgh, that has such a bark.' At last, with great reluctance,
the man gave up the dog to the letter carrier, who brought him home
here. But though Bass's bark is so terrific, he is the best natured and
most playful dog I ever saw; so much so indeed, that the small King
Charles's spaniel, Raith, used to tyrannize over him for many months
after he came here from abroad. I have seen the little creature run
furiously at the great animal when gnawing a bone, who instantly turned
himself submissively over on his back, with all his legs in the air,
whilst Raith, seizing the bone, would make the most absurd and
unavailing attempts to bestride the enormous head of his subdued
companion, with the most ludicrous affectation of the terrible growling,
that might bespeak the loftiest description of dog-indignation. When a
dog attacks Bass in the street or road, he runs away rather than
quarrel; but when compelled to fight by any perseverance in the
attacking party, he throws his enemy down in a moment, and then,
without biting him, he lays his whole immense bulk down upon him, till
he nearly smothers him. He took a particular fancy for one of the
postmen who deliver letters here, whose duty it was, besides delivering
letters, to carry a letter bag from one receiving house to another, and
this bag he used to give Bass to carry. Bass always followed that man
through all the villas in this neighbourhood where he had deliveries to
make, and he invariably parted with him opposite to the gate of the
Convent of St. Margaret's, and returned home. When our gate was shut
here to prevent his following the postman, the dog always leaped a high
wall to get after him. One day when the postman was ill, or detained by
some accidental circumstance, he sent a man in his place. Bass went up
to the man, curiously scanning his face, whilst the man rather retired
from the dog, by no means liking his appearance. But as the man left the
place, Bass followed him, shewing strong symptoms that he was determined
to have the post-bag. The man did all he could to keep possession of it.
But at length Bass, seeing that he had no chance of getting possession
of the bag by civil entreaty, raised himself on his hind legs, and
putting a great fore-paw on, each of the man's shoulders, he laid him
flat on his back in the road, and quietly picking up the bag, he
proceeded peaceably on his wonted way. The man, much dismayed, arose
and followed the dog, making, every now and then, an ineffectual attempt
to coax him to give up the bag. At the first house he came to, he told
his fears, and the dilemma he was in, but the people comforted him, by
telling him that the dog always carried the bag. Bass walked with the
man to all the houses at which he delivered letters, and along the road
till he came to the gate of St. Margaret's, where he dropped the bag and
returned home."

The peculiar services which the St. Bernard dog is taught to perform,
have made them the blessings of the snow-covered regions in which they
dwell; their sense of smell is very acute, their large, full, eye, is
very expressive, and their intelligence has saved many persons from
death, when overtaken by cold on the Alpine passes. One of these noble
creatures wore a medal, in commemoration of his having preserved
twenty-two lives, and he at last lost his own in an avalanche, together
with those whom he was endeavouring to protect. They carry food and wine
with them; and followed by the monks, who have vowed themselves to the
task, seek those who need assistance.

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

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

The Scotch greyhound (Cania Scoticus), generally white, with black
clouds, is said to be the most intellectual of all, and formerly to have
had so good a scent, as to be employed as a blood-hound. Maida, whose
name is immortalized as the favourite of Sir Walter Scott, was a
Scottish greyhound.

The Irish is the largest of all the western breeds, and is supposed to
owe this distinction to mingling with the great Danish dog. To it
Ireland owes the extirpation of wolves, and itself now scarcely exists
but in name.

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

The rough, large-boned, ill-looking Lurcher, is said to have descended
from the rough greyhound and the shepherd's dog. It is now rare, but
there are some of its sinister-looking mongrel progeny still to be seen.
They always bear the reputation of being poachers' dogs, and are deeply
attached to their owners. They have a fine scent; and a man confessed to
Mr. Bewick, that he could, with his pair of lurchers, procure as many
rabbits as he pleased. They never give tongue, but set about their work
silently and cautiously, and hunt hares and partridges, driving the
latter into the nets of the unlawful sportsmen. They will even pull down
deer.

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

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

The once-esteemed Blood-hound is now rare, and I copy Mr. Bell's
description of the breed, in possession of his namesake:--"They stand
twenty-eight inches high at the shoulder; the muzzle broad and full, the
upper lip large and pendulous, the vertex of the head protuberant, the
expression stern, thoughtful, and noble; the breast broad; the limbs
strong and muscular, and the original colour a deep tan, with large
black clouds. They are silent when following their scent; and in this
respect differ from other hounds, who are generally gifted with fine,
deep voices. Numbers, under the name of sleuth-hounds, used to be kept
on the Borders, and kings and troopers, perhaps equally marauders, have,
in olden times, found it difficult to evade them. The noble Bruce had
several narrow escapes from them, and the only sure way to destroy their
scent was to spill blood upon the track. In all the common routine of
life they are good-natured and intelligent, and make excellent
watch-dogs. A story is related of a nobleman, who, to make trial whether
a young hound was well instructed, desired one of his servants to walk
to a town four miles off, and then to a market-town, three miles from
thence. The dog, without seeing the man he was to pursue, followed him
by the scent to the above mentioned places, notwithstanding the
multitude of market people that went along the same road, and of
travellers that had occasion to come; and when the blood-hound came to
the cross market-town, he passed through the streets without taking
notice of any of the people there, and ceased not till he had gone to
the house where the man he sought rested himself, and where he found him
in an upper room, to the wonder of those who had accompanied him in this
pursuit."[4]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

For the last three months of my mother's existence, Peter was almost
always on her bed, night and day; and during the final four weeks, when
death was daily expected, he was sad and dull: which was attributed to
the change in the habits of the family. Forty-eight hours before all was
over, Peter crept into a corner under the bed, which had always been his
place of refuge when in trouble; and we with difficulty prevailed on him
to quit it, even when his mistress wished to see and say farewell to
him. On that occasion he hung his head, and appeared to be so miserable,
that apprehensions of malady on his part were entertained. He returned
to his corner, and was not thought of for some time. At length all was
quiet in the room, and I was about to leave it, when I recollected
Peter. He was with difficulty prevailed on to leave his corner, where he
lay, curled up and trembling. I lifted him up to take a last look of his
beloved mistress, but he laid his head on my shoulder, and was so much
distressed that I carried him away immediately. On the following day, he
accompanied me up stairs, and when I passed my mother's door, he looked
up in my face as much as to say, "Are you going in there?" but I replied
"No!" and he never again asked for entrance. The coffin was soldered
down, and removed from the bed-room to the dining-room; and thus had to
pass the drawing-room where all the family were assembled. On ordinary
occasions, Peter was furious at the sound of strange footsteps in the
house, and even barked loudly when any one knocked or rang at the
street-door. On this occasion, however, he suffered the men employed to
pass and repass frequently, without making the slightest noise; but that
he was conscious of some unusual occurrence was evident from his jumping
into my arms, where, as the coffin was brought down, he sat with ears
erect, and eyes fixed, and panted and trembled in the most agitated
manner till all was quiet. As long as the body remained in the house, he
took every opportunity of walking round it and lying under it, and when
it was removed at five o'clock one mornin

Showing first 200,000 characters. Full text: gutenberg.org/ebooks/21973