Chapter 2

Some three years ago I was "having a spell" in Brisbane, after a lengthened sojourn on a sheep station in the interior of Queensland. During my stay in the city I had the good fortune to gain the friendship of a gentleman who owned a magnificent collie. My friend, his dog Sweep, and myself, were frequently together, engaged either in yachting among the islands of Moreton Bay, or 'possum hunting under the towering _eucalypti_ which fringe the banks of the river Brisbane. Naturally "Sweep" (who was a most lovable animal) and myself soon began to entertain a warm friendship for one another, which friendship gave rise to the anecdote I am about to relate. Returning to my hotel about midnight from the house of a friend, I was not a little startled at finding my hand suddenly seized from behind by a dog, which, however, I at once recognised as my handsome acquaintance, Sweep. I patted him, at the same time endeavouring to withdraw the hand which he held firmly, but gently, between his teeth. It was of no use, as, in spite of all my endearments, he insisted on retaining his hold, wriggling along by my side, and vigorously wagging his tail, as though he would say, "Don't be afraid; it's all right." We soon reached a point in the main street down which we were walking, where a side avenue branched off towards the river. My way lay right ahead. Sweep, however, insisted on my taking the road which lay at a right-angle to my course. I felt some annoyance at his persistence, as I was both tired and sleepy; but, having no choice in the matter, I followed his lead. Having walked some two or three hundred yards down _his_ street, he released his hold, dancing round me, then running on for a few yards and looking back to see if I were following. Becoming interested, I determined to see what he was after, so, without further resistance, I followed submissively. At last, having reached the river, which at this place was about four hundred yards wide, he, with many joyous barks, ran down the ferry steps, and jumped into the empty boat of the ferryman. At last I was able to guess at his motive for forcing me to follow him. His master, who lived across the river, had accidentally lost sight of his dog returning from his office in the city; and Sweep appeared to understand perfectly that unless the boatman received his fare he, Sweep, would not be carried over, my friend frequently sending the dog over by himself when wishing to attend concerts, &c., invariably paying the fare as of an ordinary passenger. The ferryman, who at once recognised my canine friend, laughed heartily when I told him how I had been served, took my penny, and set off at once for "Kangaroo Point," Sweep gaily barking "good-night" until he reached the opposite bank. I heard subsequently that he used to swim the river when left behind; but having had two narrow escapes from sharks, his nerves had become somewhat shaken so far as water was concerned.

J. WM. CREIGHTON.

THE REASON OF DOGS.

[_Nov. 13, 1875._]

Having often read, with great pleasure, the anecdotes about dogs which from time to time appear in the _Spectator_, I venture to send you one which has come under my own observation, and which, it seems to me, shows an effort of reasoning implying two distinct ideas--one the consequence of the other--more interesting than many of those clever performances of educated dogs which may or may not be merely mechanical actions.

The dog who performed the following trick was then a great, half-grown, awkward puppy, whose education, up to that time, had been much neglected. It has been better attended to since, and now, although sportsmen probably consider such an animal sadly thrown away upon a lady, he is a very pleasant friend and companion. My two dogs, Guy and Denis, form as capital a pair, for contrast's sake, as one need wish to see. They are both handsome dogs of their kind--Guy, a fine black retriever, with no white hair upon him, and, I believe, in the eyes of sportsmen, as well as those of his mistress, a very desirable possession, good-tempered, clever, and affectionate; Denis, as naughty and spoilt a little fellow as ever existed, and a great pet, also black, except for his yellow paws and chest, but covered with long, loose locks, instead of Guy's small, crisp curls.

Denis is exceedingly comic, and a constant source of amusement. He is very faithful to his mistress, whose bedside during illness he has refused to leave, even for food; but it must be confessed that he is not amiably disposed towards most people, and is a perfect tyrant over the other animals. Some account of the two dogs' character is necessary, to explain the little scene which took place between them one evening about a year ago. Guy, it must be premised, is at least twelve months younger than Denis, consequently, when the former first arrived--a miserable and very ugly little puppy, a few weeks old, more like a small black jug than any known animal of the canine species, having had the mange, and lost all his hair--Denis undertook his education, and ruled him so severely that his influence lasted a long while; indeed, even after Guy had grown so big that Denis almost needed to stand upon his hind legs in order to snap at him, the great dog would crouch meekly at a growling remonstrance from the little master, and never dared to invade his rights--to approach his plate of food, or to drink before him. Now a days Guy has discovered his own power, and although too good-natured an animal ever to ill-treat the little dog, no longer allows any liberties, but at the same time, when the scene which I am about to describe took place, he was still under the impression that Denis's wrath was a terrible and dangerous matter.

And now for my story, which, it seems to me, shows as much real reasoning power in an untrained animal as any anecdote that I ever read. One evening I took my two dogs to the kitchen, to give them the rare treat of a bone apiece. (Dogs were certainly never intended to make Natal their home, for, in order to keep them alive at all, they should never be given anything that they like, especially meat, and even then the most careful management often fails in preserving them from disease and death.) One of my sisters was with me, and together we watched the dogs over their supper. Guy, with his great mouth, and ravenous, growing appetite, made short work with his, every vestige of which had vanished; while little Denis was still contentedly sucking away at his small share, not very hungry, and taking his pleasures sedately, like a gentleman, as he is. And then Guy began to watch the other with an envious eye, evidently casting about in his mind how he might gain possession of that bone. He was even then, though not full grown, so big and strong that he could have taken it by force with the greatest ease; but such an idea did not cross his mind; he decided to employ stratagem to win the prize. I must mention here, that amongst other naughty practices of my dogs, is that of rushing out of the house and barking violently upon the slightest sound without. This is Denis's fault, which Guy, in spite of all my lessons, has contracted from him. With the evident intention of sending Denis out, Guy suddenly started up, and began to bark _towards_ the door in an excited manner, but not running out himself, as he certainly would have done, had he really heard anything. Down went Denis's bone, and out rushed he, barking at the top of his voice. Did Guy follow him? Oh, dear no! he had no such intentions; he sneaked up to Denis's bone immediately, picked it up, and ran to the other end of the room. But when he had got it, he did not know what to do with it; there was no hiding-place for him there, and he dare neither await Denis's return openly, nor risk meeting him at the door. My sister and I were, by this time, both sitting on a bench against the wall, watching the scene between the dogs, and Guy, after running once round the room, with the bone in his mouth, came and crept in beneath my seat, where he was hidden by my dress, and where he lay, not eating the bone, and in perfect silence. Presently Master Denis trotted back, quite unconscious, and shaking the curls out of his eyes, as much as to say, "My dear fellow! what a fuss you've made; there's nothing there." He looked about for his bone for a few minutes, but soon gave up the search, and began to amuse himself with other things. After a while, I, forgetting the culprit beneath my seat, rose, and crossed the room, leaving him exposed. Guy was in a great fright; he jumped up, and running to my sister, who was still seated, he stood up with his forepaws upon her lap, and the bone still untouched in his mouth, as though begging her protection. Denis, however, did not observe him, and after a few minutes, Guy's courage returned, and finally he ventured to lie down, with the bone between his paws, and began to gnaw it, keeping one eye fixed on Denis the while. This, however, was going a step too far. Denis was attracted by the sound, and recognised his own bone the moment that he looked round. He marched up to Guy (who immediately stopped eating) and stood before him. Denis growled, and Guy slowly removed one great paw from his prize. Denis advanced a step, with another growl; Guy removed the other paw, and slunk back a little, whereupon Master Denis calmly walked up, took possession of his bone, and went off with it.

I am bound, however, to remark that after another half-hour's contented amusement over it, he resigned the remainder, which was too hard for his small mouth, to Guy, who finished the last morsel with great satisfaction. Now that he is full grown, Guy still gives up to Denis in many little ways, but it is evidently through generosity only, for he has proved himself perfectly capable of taking his own part. But he is very gentle with his little playmate, except at night, when he lies across my door-way--entirely of his own accord--and will allow no one and nothing to enter without my command.

FRANCES E. COLENSO.

A CANINE SIGHT-SEER.

[_May 20, 1876._]

As a subscriber to your journal, I have observed from time to time discussion on the "reasoning power of dogs." I will tell you what I observed to-day. In consequence of the Levée there was a great crowd in Pall Mall. I was invited by a friend to accompany him in his carriage from St. James's Palace down Pall Mall, when lo and behold, his dog, which usually runs with the carriage, insisting on getting in also. Nothing could induce him to get out, and whilst passing along Pall Mall he amused himself looking out of window at the police, soldiers, and crowd collected. When through, he was glad enough to get out again, and readily followed through the most frequented streets. Now, I have no doubt as to that dog's "reasoning power," respecting his ability to follow his carriage safely through the dense crowd collected around St. James's Palace and Marlborough House.

H.

THINKING OUT A PLAN.

[_March 3, 1888._]

Are animals able to think over and carry out a plan? The following anecdotes will answer the question. When in India, I had a small rough terrier who, when given a bone, was sent to eat it on the gravel drive under an open porch in front of the bungalow. On several occasions two crows had made an attempt to snatch the dainty morsel, but their plans were easily defeated by Topsy's growls and snapping teeth. Away flew the crows to the branch of a tree near by. After a few moments of evident discussion, they proceeded to carry out the plan of attack. One crow flew down to the ground and gave a peck at the end of the dog's tail. Topsy at once turned to resent this attack in the rear, whilst the other crow flew down and bore the bone away in triumph.

The same dog had a favourite resting-place in an easy-chair, and was very often deprived of it by a dog which came as visitor to the house. Topsy did not approve of this, and her attempts to regain her seat were met with growls and bites. This justified an act of eviction, and the busy little brain decided on a plan. The next day, as usual, the intruder established himself in the chair, which was close to the open door. Topsy looked on for a moment, and then flew savagely out of doors, barking at a supposed enemy. Out ran the other dog to see what was up, and back came Topsy to take possession of her coveted seat. The other dog came slowly back, and curled himself up in a far-off corner. The above I was an eye-witness to, and therefore can vouch for the truth of what I relate.

K. P.

A PARCEL-CARRYING DOG.

[_Feb. 9, 1895._]

In illustration of the anecdotal letters about dogs and their habits, in the _Spectator_ of February 2nd, and Mr. Lang's paper in this month's _Nineteenth Century_, I send you the following story of a dog which I had in 1851 and for three years afterwards. He was a handsome Newfoundland dog, and one of the most intelligent animals with which it was ever my good luck to meet. I was living in a village about three miles from Dover, where I did all my shopping and marketing, being generally my own "carrier." Sometimes Nep would carry home a small parcel for me, and always most carefully. On one occasion Nep was with me when I chose a spade, and asked the ironmonger to send it by the village carrier. The spade was put by, labelled and duly addressed. I went on to have a bathe, my dog going with me, but on finishing my toilet in the machine, and calling and whistling for Nep, he was nowhere to be seen. He was not to be found at the stable where I had left my horse, but on calling at the ironmonger's shop I found he had been there and had carried off the spade which I had bought, balancing it carefully in his mouth. When I reached home, there Nep was, lying near his kennel in the stable-yard looking very fagged, but wearing a countenance of the fullest self-satisfaction, and evidently wishing me to think he had fulfilled his "dog-duty." My friend Mr. Wood, who was a thorough lover and admirer of dogs, was delighted to hear of his intelligent performance.

"CANOPHILIST."

P.S.--I may add Nep always guarded me when bathing, and always went into the water with me, too, often uttering a peculiar kind of "howl."

_THE REASONING POWERS OF DOGS._

PURCHASING DOGS.

[_May 26, 1877._]

Some time ago I sent you my recollections of a dog who knew a halfpenny from a penny, and who could count up as far as two (see page 56). I have been able to obtain authentic information of a dog whose mental powers were still more advanced, and who, in his day, besides being celebrated for his abilities, was of substantial benefit to a charitable institution in his town. The dog I refer to was a little white fox-terrier, Prin by name, who lived at the Lion Hotel, at Kidderminster, for three or four years; but now, alas! he is dead, and nothing remains of him but his head in a glass case.

I had heard of this dog some months ago, but on Saturday last, having to make a visit to Kidderminster, I went to see him. The facts I give about him are based on the statements of Mr. Lloyd, his master, and they are fully substantiated by the evidence of many others. I have before me a statement of the proceeds of "Dog Prin's box, Lion Hotel; subscriptions to the Infirmary." The contributions began in September, 1874, and ended on April 25th, 1876, and during that period the sum of £13 14s. 6d. was contributed through Prin's instrumentality.

He began by displaying a fancy for playing with coins, not unusual amongst terriers, and he advanced to a discovery that he could exchange the coins for biscuits. He learnt that for a halfpenny he could get two biscuits, and for a penny, three; and, having become able to distinguish between the two coins, it was found impossible to cheat him. If he had contributed a penny, he would not leave the bar till he had had his third biscuit; and if there was nobody to attend to his wants, he kept the coin in his mouth till he could be served. Indeed, it was this persistence which ultimately caused poor Prin's death, for there is every reason to fear that he fell a victim to copper-poisoning.

By a little training he was taught to place the coins, after he had got the biscuits, upon the top of a small box fixed on the wall, and they were dropped for him through a slot. He never objected to part with them in this way, and having received the _quid pro quo_, he gave complete evidence of his appreciation of the honourable understanding which is so absolutely necessary for all commercial transactions.

An authenticated case like this is of extreme value, for just as the elementary stages of any science or discovery are the most difficult and the slowest in accomplishment, so are the primary stages of all mental processes. To find the preliminary steps of the evolution of mathematics and commerce in a dog is therefore a very important observation, and everything bearing on these early phases of intellect should be carefully recorded.

LAWSON TAIT.

[_Feb. 10, 1877._]

The _Spectator_ is always so kind to animals that I venture to send you the following story of a dog's sagacity, which may be depended upon as absolutely true:--

During the meeting of the British Association at Glasgow, a friend of mine had occasion to go one day from that place to Greenock on business. Hearing, on his arrival, that the person he wished to see was out, but expected shortly to return home, he determined to take a stroll about the town, to which he was a stranger. In the course of his walk he turned into a baker's shop and bought a bun. As he stood at the door of the shop eating his bun, a large dog came up to him and begged for a share, which he got, and seemed to enjoy, coming back for piece after piece. "Does the dog belong to you?" my friend asked of the shop-woman. "No," she answered, "but he spends most of his time here, and begs halfpennies from the people who pass." "Halfpennies! What good can they be to him?" "Oh, he knows very well what to do with them; he comes into the shop and buys cakes."

This seemed rather a remarkable instance of cleverness even for the cleverest of animals, so, by way of testing its reality, my friend went out of the shop into the street, where he was immediately accosted by the dog, who begged for _something_ with all the eloquence of which a dog is capable. He offered him a halfpenny, and was rather surprised to see him accept it readily, and walk, with the air of a regular customer, into the shop, where he put his forepaws on the counter, and held out the halfpenny towards the attendant. The young woman produced a bun, but that did not suit the dog, and he held his money fast. "Ah," she said, "I know what he wants," and took down from a shelf a plate of shortbread. This was right; the dog paid his halfpenny, took his shortbread, and ate it with decorous satisfaction. When he had quite finished he left the shop, and my friend, much amused, followed him, and when he again begged found another halfpenny for him, and saw the whole process gone through a second time.

This dog clearly had learned by some means the use of money, and not merely that it would buy something to eat, but that it would buy several things, among which he could exercise a right of choice. What is perhaps most remarkable is that his proceedings were entirely independent, and for his own benefit, not that of any teacher or master.

A. L. W.

[_Feb. 17, 1877._]

When a student at Edinburgh, I enjoyed the friendship of a brown retriever, who belonged to a fishmonger in Lothion Street, and who was certainly the cleverest dog I have ever met with. He was a cleverer dog than the one described by "A. L. W." because he knew the relative value of certain coins. In the morning he was generally to be seen seated on the step of the fishmonger's shop-door, waiting for some of his many friends to give him a copper. When he had got one, he trotted away to a baker's shop a few doors off, and dropped the coin on the counter. If I remember rightly (it is twelve or fifteen years ago), his weakness was "soda scones." If he dropped a halfpenny on the counter he was contented with one scone, but if he had given a penny he expected two, and would wait for the second, after he had eaten the first, until he got it. That he knew exactly when he was entitled to one scone only, and when he ought to get two, is certain, for I tried him often.

LAWSON TAIT.

[_Feb. 17, 1877._]

In the _Spectator_ of the 10th inst. a correspondent describes the purchase of cakes by a clever dog at Greenock. I should like to be allowed to help preserve the memory of a most worthy dog-friend of my youth, well remembered by many now living who knew Greenwich Hospital some thirty or five-and-thirty years ago.

At that time there lived there a dog-pensioner called Hardy, a large brown Irish retriever. He was so named by Sir Thomas Hardy, when Governor (Nelson's Hardy), who at the same time constituted him a pensioner, at the rate of one penny per diem, for that he had one day saved a life from drowning just opposite the hospital. Till that time he was a poor stranger and vagrant dog--friendless. But thenceforward he lived in the hospital, and _spent his pension himself_ at the butcher's shop, as he did also many another coin given to him by numerous friends. Many is the halfpenny which, as a child, I gave Hardy, that I might see him buy his own meat--which he did with judgment, and a due regard to value. When a _penny_ was given to him, he would, on arriving at the shop, place it on the counter and rest his nose or paw upon it until he received _two halfpennyworths_, nor would any persuasion induce him to give up the coin for the usual smaller allowance. I was a young child at the time, but I had a great veneration for Hardy, and remember him well, but lest my juvenile memory might have been in fault, I have, before writing this letter, compared my recollections with those of my elders, who, as grown people, knew Hardy for many years, and confirm all the above facts. There, indeed, was the right dog in the right place. Peace to his shade!

J. D. C.

[_Feb. 7, 1885._]

Have you room for one more dog story, which resembles one lately reported in a French journal? A few years since I was sitting inside the door of a shop to escape from the rain while waiting for a trap to take me to the railway station in the old Etruscan city of Ferentino. Presently an ill-bred dog of the pointer kind came and sat down in front of me, looking up in my face, and wagging his tail to attract my attention. "What does that dog want?" I asked of a bystander. "Signore," he answered, "he wants you to give him a soldo to go and buy you a cigar with." I gave the dog the coin, and he presently returned, bringing a cigar, which he held crossways in his mouth until I took it from him. Sent again and again, he brought me three or four more cigars from the tobacco-shop. At length the dog's demeanour changed, and he gave vent to his impatience by two or three low whines. "What does he want now?" I asked. "He wants you to give him two soldi to go to the baker's and buy bread for himself." I gave him a two-soldo piece, and in a few minutes the dog returned with a small loaf of bread, which he laid at my feet, at the same time gazing wistfully in my face. "He won't take it until you give him leave," said another bystander. I gave the requisite permission, and the dear animal seized the loaf and disappeared with it in his mouth, and did not again make his appearance before I left the city. "He always does like this," said the standers-by, "whenever he sees a stranger in Ferentino."

GREVILLE I. CHESTER.

CAUTIOUS DOGS.

INTELLIGENT SUSPICION IN A DOG.

[_July 7, 1888._]