Chapter 10

He entered the drawing-room where his two mistresses were sitting, and made signs for one of them to go to the door. She did not heed his request; upon which he pulled her gown with his teeth, and she, thinking he must have some extraordinary reason for it, then followed him; the instant she opened the door wide, he squatted himself in the middle of the mat placed there, thumping the floor with his tail; before him lay six dead rats, which he had killed and brought to be seen, they being laid out, rat fashion, in due form, and he displaying his prowess with great pleasure. Jack went to Torquay with his young mistress, where he was one day lying in the balcony, enjoying the sea breezes. An Italian came past with his organ, and a monkey; he stopped before Jack, and suffered his monkey to climb the pillars which supported the balcony and enter. Jack never tamely suffered the intrusion of strangers; but such a stranger as this was beyond all patience; he seized him, shook him; the poor monkey squealed, the Italian bawled out for his companion, and Jack's mistress rushed to the window and rescued the unfortunate creature, just time enough to save him from Jack's final gripe. Some days after this, Jack was walking out with his mistress's brother, who was a great invalid, when the sound of an organ saluted his ears. In one moment he came up with it, seized the accompanying monkey between his teeth, and dashed past his astonished master, with the hind legs of the creature hanging out on one side, and the feathered hat on the other. In vain did the gentleman call; Jack either did not hear or did not heed; he took his way to the stable where his master's horse was kept, and would have immolated the monkey, had not the grooms there saved him from death. The invalid and the owner of the monkey arrived at the same moment, each delighted at the safety of the poor victim. Jack, to this day, cannot endure an organ or a monkey.

The Pariah dogs of India, when wild, occupy the woods in numerous packs; they have long backs, pointed ears, sharp noses, and fringed tails. Their fondness for human beings is very remarkable; and they will attach themselves to a stranger, and not suffer any ill-usage to keep them at a distance. One was known to follow a gentleman travelling in a palanquin till he dropped from fatigue. There is a minute variety, white, with long silky hair, like a lap dog, and this is trained to carry flambeaux and lanterns. Bishop Heber gives an account of a poor Pariah dog, who followed him during a part of his journey through India. He ordered the cook to give him some scraps, and the animal strongly attached himself to the bishop. When the party were obliged to cross a rapid river, at rather a dangerous ford, the dog was so frightened at the black roaring water, that he sat down by the side and howled piteously, as the bishop went over. He, however, assumed courage to follow; but was again distressed when one of the Sepoys was missing; he ran back to the spot, and howled, returned to the bishop, then back to summon the defaulter, and continued this till the man had rejoined his party.

The bishop relates a story of one of these dogs who, being in search of water, thrust his head into an earthen jar, and could not get it out again; he rushed about in all directions, bellowing and howling in the most fearful manner. The guard sprang to their feet, and stood prepared to encounter an enemy, whose approach they thought was announced by the blast of a war-horn. Halters were broken, and horses and mules pranced over the tent ropes; and it was some minutes before the cause of this confusion was ascertained.

A massive form, arched skull, deep lower jaw, strong legs and neck, semi-hanging ears, truncated tail, and frequent presence of a fifth toe, distinguish the noble Mastiff. They are silent, phlegmatic dogs, conscious of their own strength, seem to consider themselves more as companions than servants, are resolute, and face danger with the utmost self-possession. A cold region, such as the highest ranges of Central Asia, is best adapted to their perfect development, and yet their only wild type is met with in Africa. They are old denizens of Great Britain, and are said to have been brought here before the Romans conquered the country. They are not supposed to have come originally from Africa, but from Thibet, through the north of Europe.

They have been known to conquer lions; and yet, while they possess the most indomitable strength and courage, they are the gentlest of animals, suffering children to sit upon them, pull them roughly, and small dogs to snap and snarl at them. Confinement alone disturbs their temper. They are excellent guardians, and such is their deliberate coolness, that they have been known to walk quietly by the side of a thief without doing him an injury, merely preventing his escape. They will, however, suffer the rogue to go away, if he has not already purloined anything.

It is well known that dogs love to be in a crowd of people, and this is frequently the temptation for them to enter churches. A number of dogs, in a village of Bohemia, had followed this practice, including an English mastiff, belonging to a nobleman who lived there. A magistrate who presided at a Court, observed upon it, and said, in an authoritative voice, "No dogs shall be allowed to go to church, let me not see one there in future." The mastiff was present, and seemed to listen with attention, not without effect, for on the ensuing Sunday, he, rising early, ran barking at the village dogs, took his station near the door of the church, killed the only dog that ventured in, notwithstanding the prohibition; and always posted himself as a sentinel on duty, before the church, but without ever afterwards entering it.

An English gentleman, some time ago, went to some public gardens, at St. Germain, with a large mastiff, who was refused admittance, and the gentleman left him in the care of the bodyguards, who were placed there. The Englishman, some time after he had entered, returned to the gate, and informed the guards that he had lost his watch, telling the sergeant, that if he would permit him to take in the dog, he would soon discover the thief. His request being granted, the gentleman made signs to the dog of what he had lost, who immediately ran about among the company, and traversed the gardens, till at last he laid hold of a man. The gentleman insisted that this person had his watch; and, on being searched, not only his watch, but six others, were discovered in his pockets. What is more remarkable, the dog took his master's watch from the other six, and carried it to him. This is rather an old story, but it is an excellent example of the sagacity of the mastiff.

The following anecdote has been sent to me while writing the above, by the gentleman who witnessed the occurrence, and, as Glaucous was half a mastiff, I insert it in this place:--

"An Irish gentleman, possessed a couple of immense dogs, male and female, half Newfoundland, half mastiff, which were celebrated for their sagacity, courage, and high-training. They were, in the most comprehensive sense, amphibious, and their home being near the sea, they spent many hours daily in the water.

"One day a young gentleman, related to the owner of these dogs, and to whom the male, who was called Glaucous, had attached himself with the ardent affection so characteristic of his species, was walking on the shore with him. It was nearly low water, and a sand-bank, covered during high tide, was visible at some hundred yards distance from the shore. His attention was drawn to this object, from the circumstance of the water being in a state of commotion around it, while the sea elsewhere was perfectly placid. On further examination, he discovered that some large fish was chasing a shoal of whiting, and in his eagerness to capture his prey, he more than once ran on the sand-bank.

"Directing the dog's attention to these objects, he was encouraged to swim to the sand-bank, which he soon attained, and he had not been there a minute, before the large fish made another dash almost under his nose. The dog immediately pursued the fish; and ere it had reached the deep water he seized it by the shoulders, and bore it to the sand-bank. The fish, however, remained far from passive under such treatment, for as soon as it was released, it opened its large jaws, and bit the dog so fiercely as to cause his muzzle to be crimsoned with blood.

"A few struggles brought the fish again into his own element, in which he quickly disappeared. But the dog, though severely bitten, was not discomfited. A cheering call from his young friend, was followed by his dashing into the water after his finny foe, and diving, he reappeared with the fish trailing from his jaws. Again he bore him to the sand-bank, and again the fish made good use of his teeth.

"But it was evident that the struggle could not be much longer continued. Availing himself of every opportunity, the dog used his powerful tusks with terrible effect on the fish's shoulders, and at last, taking a good gripe of his prey, he set off for the shore. When about halfway, the fish managed to break loose, but Glaucous was too quick for him, and once more seizing him, he landed his prize with all the apparent triumph evinced by a veteran angler, who secures a monster salmon after a lengthy battle. The fish turned out to be a hake; it weighed seventeen pounds, and when opened was found completely filled with whitings."

The Bull-dog, with his truncated nose, his broad mouth, red eyelids, large head, forehead sinking between the eyes, nose rising, under-jaw projecting, often showing the teeth, and thick make, has not those outward characters which compose beauty.

Their heads have always black about them; but the rest is brindled, buff, ochry, or white. They are said to be less sagacious than other dogs, and less capable of attachment; but their great strength, their courage, and extreme pertinacity in keeping hold when they have once taken a gripe, makes them most valuable for completing the packs of hounds trained to hunt boars, wolves, and still larger animals. When excited they are terrific in appearance, and were formerly used for bull-baiting in this country. In Spain and Corsica, where this practice is still continued, they may be seen in all their strength and power. I have been told they are gentle when not engaged in their cruel sport.

The Pug has been by some considered as a variety of the bull-dog, and others reject this opinion. His round head, grotesquely abbreviated muzzle, and small, tightly curled tail, they think, entitling him to a place of his own among dogs. Authorities state that he is a cross, ill-tempered little dog, but my own experience contradicts this. The two with whom I have come in frequent contact, have been remarkably playful and good-natured. One was the pet of a lady; and his bringing up ought to have made him gentlemanly; but he had several low tricks in the eating way; such as stealing from the scullery, which used to provoke his mistress. His place for hiding the purloined dainties was under the pillow of her bed, and frequently at her nightly examination of the spot, she found, not only bones, but dead mice.

Pug number two, was a very clever fellow, who used to walk out by himself every day, and when he wished to re-enter the house, he always rang the door bell; either by shaking the wire with his paw, or taking it between his teeth. He was clever in fetching what was wanted from distant parts of the house, but was very much afraid of being by himself in the dark. He had formed a great friendship with a kitten, and the two used to bask together before the fire. If Pug were told to fetch some article from the bed-room, after the house was closed for the night, he insisted on having puss's companionship. If she were unwilling to move, he dragged her along with his mouth, and frequently mounted several stairs with her, before she gave consent to the proceeding.

Multitudes of anecdotes exist, which have been handed down to us, as relating to dogs, without any information of the species of the principal actors, as in the following instances.

The fire dog, only just dead, was to be seen at almost every conflagration in London, either mounted on the engine, or tearing along by its side, seeming to think his presence necessary on all such occasions. He was well known at all the engine stations, though he did not belong to, or derive his support from any individual. There is now a dog, at the Temple, which belongs to the inn, and not to any one person; he is a mongrel, is fed wherever he chooses to ask, and is to be seen everywhere within the precincts of the place. Dogs have frequently been known to attach themselves to regiments, in the same manner. One named Battalion, belonged to the first regiment of Royal Guards in France. Being always stationed at the guard-house, he remained there. The frequent change of masters was of no importance to him; he did not even go to the barracks; and considered himself as the property of twelve soldiers, two corporals, a sergeant, and a drummer, whoever they might happen to be; but if the regiment changed garrison, he installed himself at the new guard-house. He never took any notice of those who did not wear the same uniform.

The histories of the smuggling dogs on the frontiers of France, are well known, but these smugglers are now almost all destroyed. The extent to which this illicit commerce was carried, was enormous. Dogs notions of property, however, are often very scrupulous; a lady at Bath found her way impeded as she walked by a dog, who had discovered the loss of her veil, though she had not; the animal had left his own master to seek it for her; he found it, and then returned to his owner. They often shew a presentiment of danger, and gave notice of the earthquake at Gabaluasco in 1835, by leaving the town, also at Concepcion, in the same manner.

Some dogs have a great antipathy to music, others only to certain tones, and I have known a dog who always set up a howl at particular passages. There was one who, before the great revolution in France, used to march with the band at the Thuileries because he liked it, and at night frequented the opera and other theatres.

The most surprising histories told of dogs are concerning their speech. Liebnitz reported to the French Academy of Sciences, that a dog had been taught to modulate his voice, so that he could distinctly ask for coffee, tea, and chocolate. After this we may believe that a dog was learning to say Elizabeth. I have often watched for such sounds, from energetic, clever dogs, who have evidently tried _vivâ voce_ to make me acquainted with some circumstance, but never heard anything intelligible, and I cannot imagine that the organs of speech are bestowed upon a favoured few; without which the articulation of words must be impossible.

Volumes might be filled with these anecdotes of dogs, but I will here conclude my list with the picture given by Mr. St. John of his pets, portraying a happiness which contrasts strongly with the miserable condition of many ill-used animals, belonging to hard-hearted masters, who perform valuable services, and are yet kicked, spurned, or half-starved.

"Opposite the window of the room I am in at present," says this gentleman, "are a monkey and five dogs basking in the sun, a blood-hound, a Skye terrier, a setter, a Russian poodle, and a young Newfoundland, who is being educated as a retriever. They all live in great friendship with the monkey, who is now in the most absurd manner searching the poodle's coat for fleas, lifting up curl by curl, and examining the roots of the hair. Occasionally, if she thinks that she has pulled the hair, or lifted one of his legs rather too roughly, she looks the dog in the face with an inquiring expression to see if he be angry. The dog, however, seems rather to enjoy the operation, and, showing no symptoms of displeasure, the monkey continues her search; and when she sees a flea, catches it in the most active manner, looks at it for a moment, and then eats it with great relish. Having exhausted the game on the poodle, she jumps on the back of the blood-hound, and having looked into her face to see how she will bear it, begins a new search, but, finding nothing, goes off for a game at romps with the Newfoundland dog. While the blood-hound, hearing the voice of one of the children, to whom she has taken a particular fancy, walks off to the nursery. The setter lies dozing and dreaming of grouse; while the little terrier sits with ears pricked up, listening to any sounds of dog or man that she may hear; occasionally she trots off on three legs to look at the back door of the house, for fear any rat-hunt, or fun of that sort may take place without her being invited. Why do Highland terriers so often run on three legs, particularly when bent on any mischief? Is it to keep one in reserve in case of emergencies? I never had a Highland terrier who did not hop along constantly on three legs, keeping one of the hind legs up as if to give it rest."

A proof of the sudden attachments which dogs will form, is given by Mr. Murray, to whom the dog of his guide took a fancy. Mr. Murray passed the night in the house of his master, fed him, and the animal sat looking up in his face. The next morning the party started on foot to cross the Pyrenees, and when the guide had fulfilled his agreement and received his reward, he took his leave; the dog, however, followed Mr. Murray, and no threats or entreaties could prevail on him to turn back. He proceeded to an inn with his new friend, and Mr. Murray was making a bargain with the innkeeper to send the dog to his owner, when a boy came from the man, to claim the beast. He followed the boy two or three times for a few yards, and invariably returned. A strong cord was then tied round his neck, and the boy was told to lead him with that; but at a little distance, finding that he could not get rid of the cord, the dog leaped upon the boy, threw him down, dragged the cord out of his hand, and returned to Mr. Murray. After this it seemed inevitable that they should travel together. Mr. Murray sent for the master, bought the dog, and eventually took him to Scotland, having a place secured for him always in the diligence; and from the moment he arrived, he became the pet of the family.

Another instance of the same feeling in dogs, occurred to a sporting traveller in Norway (Mr. Lloyd, if I mistake not) to whom the dog of a peasant took the same sudden liking.

[4] Boyle.

WOLVES.

Strong, gaunt, ferocious, cunning, cowardly, and sinister-looking, wolves (Canis Lupus) still inhabit the forest and mountainous districts of Europe, Asia, and America; a few being occasionally met with in plains. Happily they have been extirpated from Great Britain and Ireland, but in many parts of populous countries on the European Continent, an unusually severe winter brings them to the habitations of man.

Their resemblance to dogs, internally and externally, has led to the supposition, that they were the original parents of the latter; but I have elsewhere alluded to this unsettled question.

The muscles of the head, neck, and shoulders of wolves, are extremely powerful, and the snap with which they bite is never to be mistaken, being apparently peculiar to them. They drink by suction, and it is said, that if the offspring which they have by a dog, should lap, they take a dislike to it. The cry which they make is not a regular bark, but a hoarse, ugly noise, and the howl which they delight in setting up at night, is one of the most melancholy sounds possible. They vary much in colour, being white, black, grey, brown, etc. Their digitigrade walk, sharp muzzle, oblique eyes, and hanging tail, in their wild state, are less conspicuous in domestication, and they then gradually assimilate themselves in appearance to our hounds.

Innumerable are the true histories which have been transmitted to us concerning wolves. Their nightly prowling, their quiet, untiring perseverance in pursuit, their skulking disposition, their artful stratagems, all impart a mystery to them which has been heightened by fear, and the natural proneness of man to magnify tales of horror.

Wolves are too suspicious to be often taken in traps; and when pursued they run with their noses almost touching the ground, their eyes glowing like fire, the hair of their head and neck bristled up, their tail drawn close to their legs. Their usual height at the shoulders is about two feet and a half; their young are born in caverns or gloomy recesses, and the female wolf is furious in their defence. They often fight with each other; and it is said, if a wounded wolf come among his fellows, he is immediately torn in pieces and devoured.

Mr. Lloyd, in his "Field Sports in the North of Europe," tells us of a peasant who, in the neighbourhood of St. Petersburgh, met with the following narrow escape:--"He was pursued by eleven of these ferocious animals, while he was in his sledge. At this time he was only about two miles from home, towards which he urged his horse at the very top of his speed. At the entrance of his residence was a gate, which happened to be closed at the time; but the horse dashed this open, and thus his master and himself found refuge in the courtyard. They were followed, however, by nine out of the eleven wolves; but very fortunately, at the very instant these had entered the enclosure, the gate swung back on its hinges, and thus they were caught as in a trap. From being the most ferocious of animals, now that they found escape impossible, they completely changed, and so far from offering molestation to any one, they slunk into holes and corners, and allowed themselves to be slaughtered, almost without making resistance."

A more tragic occurrence happened to an unfortunate woman, also in Russia, and is related by the same gentleman:--"A woman, accompanied by three of her children, was one day in a sledge, when they were pursued by a number of wolves. She put the horse into a gallop, and drove towards her home with the utmost speed. She was not far from it; but the ferocious animals gained upon her, and were on the point of rushing on to the sledge. For the preservation of her own life, and that of the remaining children, the poor, frantic creature cast one of them to her blood-thirsty pursuers. This stopped their career for a moment; but, after devouring the poor child, they renewed the pursuit, and a second time came up with the vehicle. The mother, driven to desperation, resorted to the same horrible expedient, and threw another of her offspring to her ferocious assailants. The third child was also sacrificed in the same way, and soon after, the wretched being reached her home in safety. Here she related what had happened, and endeavoured to palliate her own conduct, by describing the dreadful alternative to which she had been reduced. A peasant, however, who was among the bystanders, and heard the recital, took up an axe, and with one blow cleft her skull in two, saying, at the same time, 'that a mother who could thus sacrifice her children for the preservation of her own life, was no longer fit to live.' The man was committed to prison, but the Emperor subsequently granted him a pardon."