Part 11

Many instances have been chronicled of the actions of dogs, which seem clearly the result of a process of reasoning. Mr. Jesse tells of a dog who was sent to fetch two hats which had been left lying upon the grass. After several unsuccessful attempts to carry the two together in his mouth, he laid them on the ground, placed the smaller within the larger, pressed it down with his foot, and then easily carried them to his master. Instances are recorded of dogs who while always ready to perform a useful service, absolutely refused to act for the amusement of on-lookers or to discharge unnecessary duties. Thus a dog who would go into the water to retrieve a wild duck would refuse to fetch anything that had been thrown in for the purpose of displaying his agility, and another who was accustomed to ring the servants' bell at the bidding of his mistress refused to do so when told while the servant was in the room, and if repeatedly commanded to do so, would lay hold of the servant's coat and attempt to drag him to his mistress. These illustrations seem to show a power of discrimination not usually credited to animals. Of the intelligence shown by dogs which have been trained, the following story from the "Percy Anecdotes" is at once a remarkable and an amusing illustration. "One day, when Dumont, a tradesman of the Rue St. Denis, was walking in the Boulevard St. Antoine with a friend, he offered to lay a wager with the latter, that if he were to hide a six-livre piece in the dust, his dog would discover and bring it to him. The wager was accepted, and the piece of money secreted, after being carefully marked. When the two had proceeded some distance from the spot, M. Dumont called to his dog that he had lost something, and ordered him to seek it. Caniche immediately turned back, and his master and his companion pursued their walk to the Rue St. Denis. Meanwhile a traveller, who happened to be just then returning in a small chaise from Vincennes, perceived the piece of money, which his horse had kicked from its hiding-place; he alighted, took it up, and drove to his inn, in the Rue Pont-aux-Choux. Caniche had just reached the spot in search of the lost piece when the stranger picked it up. He followed the chaise, went into the inn, and stuck close to the traveller. Having scented out the coin which he had been ordered to bring back in the pocket of the latter, he leaped up incessantly at and about him. The traveller, supposing him to be some dog that had been lost or left behind by his master, regarded his different movements as marks of fondness; and as the animal was handsome, he determined to keep him. He gave him a good supper, and on retiring to bed took him with him to his chamber. No sooner had he pulled off his breeches, than they were seized by the dog; the owner conceiving that he wanted to play with them, took them away again. The animal began to bark at the door, which the traveller opened, under the idea that the dog wanted to go out. Caniche snatched up the breeches, and away he flew. The traveller posted after him with his night-cap on, and literally _sans culottes_. Anxiety for the fate of a purse full of gold Napoleons, of forty francs each, which was in one of the pockets, gave redoubled velocity to his steps. Caniche ran full speed to his master's house, where the stranger arrived a moment afterwards breathless and enraged. He accused the dog of robbing him. 'Sir,' said the master, 'my dog is a very faithful creature; and if he has run away with your breeches, it is because you have in them money which does not belong to you.' The traveller became still more exasperated. 'Compose yourself, sir,' rejoined the other, smiling; 'without doubt there is in your purse a six-livre piece, with such and such marks, which you have picked up in the Boulevard St. Antoine, and which I threw down there with the firm conviction that my dog would bring it back again. This is the cause of the robbery which he has committed upon you.' The stranger's rage now yielded to astonishment; he delivered the six-livre piece to the owner, and could not forbear caressing the dog which had given him so much uneasiness, and such an unpleasant chase."

Dogs' Mistakes.

That dogs sometimes make mistakes in the exercise of their intelligence, with somewhat ludicrous results, is of course true. A dog once accompanied a gentleman's servant to a tailor's with a coat of his master's which needed repair. Having his suspicions with regard to the transaction, the dog watched his opportunity, seized the coat from the counter and carried it back with evident satisfaction to his master. Another dog caused great amusement at a swimming match by insisting upon the rescue of one of the competitors. Dogs have also been known to cause both amusement and consternation by leaping upon the stage to rescue the defenceless characters of the melodrama from the hands of the heavy villain of the play. The story of the dog who failed to recognise his master who had been bathing, and who therefore refused to allow him to have his clothes, is probably apochryphal, but if true is another illustration of the awkwardness of dogs' mistakes.

The Eskimo Dog.

Colonel Hamilton Smith in his classification of dogs begins with those which belong nearest to the arctic circle, and it will be convenient to follow his order in so far as space will allow. Speaking of the Eskimo dog Captain Lyon says:--"Having myself possessed during our hard winter a team of eleven fine dogs, I was enabled to become better acquainted with their good qualities than could possibly have been the case by the casual visits of the Esquimaux to the ships. The form of the Esquimaux dog is very similar to that of our shepherd's dog in England, but it is more muscular and broad-chested, owing to the constant and severe work to which he is brought up. His ears are pointed, and the aspect of the head is somewhat savage. In size a fine dog about the height of the Newfoundland breed, but broad like a mastiff in every part except the nose. The hair of the coat is in summer, as well as in winter, very long, but during the cold season a soft, downy under-covering is found, which does not appear in warm weather. Young dogs are put into harness as soon as they can walk, and being tied up, soon acquire a habit of pulling, in their attempts to recover their liberty, or to roam in quest of their mother. When about two months old, they are put into the sledge with the grown dogs, and sometimes eight or ten little ones are under the charge of some steady old animal, where, with frequent and sometimes severe beatings, they soon receive a competent education. Every dog is distinguished by a particular name, and the angry repetition of it has an effect as instantaneous as an application of the whip, which instrument is of an immense length, having a lash from eighteen to twenty-four feet, while the handle is one foot only; with this, by throwing it on one side or the other of the leader, and repeating certain words, the animals are guided or stopped. When the sledge is stopped they are all taught to lie down, by throwing the whip gently over their backs, and they will remain in this position even for hours, until their master returns to them. A walrus is frequently drawn along by three or four of these dogs, and seals are sometimes carried home in the same manner, though I have in some instances seen a dog bring home the greater part of a seal in panniers placed across his back. Cold has very little effect on them; for although the dogs at the huts slept within the snow passages, mine at the ships had no shelter, but lay alongside, with the thermometer at 42° and 44°, and with as little concern as if the weather had been mild. I found, by several experiments, that three of my dogs could draw me on a sledge, weighing one hundred pounds, at the rate of one mile in six minutes; and as a proof of the strength of a well-grown dog, my leader drew one hundred and ninety-six pounds singly, and to the same distance, in eight minutes. At another time seven of my dogs ran a mile in four minutes, drawing a heavy sledge full of men. Afterwards, in carrying stores to the Fury, one mile distant, nine dogs drew one thousand six hundred and eleven pounds in the space of nine minutes. When the dogs slackened their pace, the sight of a seal or bird was sufficient to put them instantly to their full speed; and even though none of these might be seen on the ice, the cry of 'a seal!'--'a bear!'--or 'a bird!' &c., was enough to give play to the legs and voices of the whole pack. The voice and long whip answer all the purposes of reins, and the dogs can be made to turn a corner as dexterously as horses, though not in such an orderly manner, since they are constantly fighting; and I do not recollect to have seen one receive a flogging without instantly wreaking his passion on the ears of his neighbours. The cries of the men are not more melodious than those of the animals; and their wild looks and gestures when animated, give them an appearance of devils driving wolves before them. Our dogs had eaten nothing for forty-eight hours, and could not have gone over less than seventy miles of ground; yet they returned, to all appearance, as fresh and active as when they first set out."

A Hard Lot.

The unhappy condition of the Eskimo dogs under native treatment is pathetically referred to in "Cassell's Natural History," edited by Professor Duncan. The writer says "the horrible savagery of those poor wretches can hardly be wondered at; they live in a country where there is hardly a chance for them in any independent foraging expedition; they are half-starved by their masters, being fed chiefly on frozen walrus hides in the winter, and allowed to shift for themselves in the summer when their services are not required, and are in so perennial and acute a state of hunger that they are ready at any time to eat their own harness if allowed to do so. It is generally stated that they are perfectly insensible to kindness, and only to be kept in order by a liberal application of the lash, or even of a more formidable weapon; for the Eskimo, if their dogs are refractory, do not scruple to beat them about the head with a hammer, or anything else of sufficient hardness which happens to be at hand. They will even beat the poor brutes in this horrible manner until they are actually stunned. Notwithstanding the absolute dependence of the Eskimo on their dogs, little or no care is taken of them; they receive nothing in any degree approaching petting, and spend all their time in the open air. The chief use of the Eskimo dog is to draw the sledges, which are the only possible conveyances in that frozen land. In all the Arctic expeditions which have been sent out at various times, a good supply of sledge dogs has been one of the greatest _desiderata_, as without them it would be absolutely impossible to proceed far. No other animal would answer the purpose, both horses and cattle being quite useless in journeys over ice and snow, amongst which the pack of light, active dogs make their way with wonderful ease and safety." The Siberian dogs render equally valuable services to their masters with about an equal measure of appreciation.

The Newfoundland Dog.

The dog known as the Newfoundland dog is one of the handsomest and best beloved of the dog family. He is distinct from the Labrador dog, which is more slender in make, has a sharper muzzle and is generally "black in colour with a tawny nose and a rusty spot over each eye". The Labrador dog and the Eskimo have been credited with the parentage of the Newfoundland species. At home the Newfoundland is made useful for the purpose of drawing loads, being harnessed to small carts and sleighs for carrying wood and other commodities. Abroad like the prophet who "is not without honour save in his own country", he has been found capable and worthy of much more honourable service, and his fidelity and sagacity have won for him universal esteem. He is an expert swimmer, his feet being webbed and so peculiarly adapted for the exercise. He takes to the water as though it were his natural element, and has so often carried the line to sinking ships, and rescued persons about to drown that such incidents have become quite common. The tribute paid to him by Sir Edwin Landseer, when he named his famous picture of him "a distinguished member of the humane society", was no more poetical than just. Volumes might be filled with stories of his intelligence and prowess, and it is difficult within present limits to select a due variety of characteristic anecdotes.

The Newfoundland's Generosity.

One of the most marked characteristics of the Newfoundland dog is his generosity to a fallen foe. His temper is said to be uncertain, though this has been questioned by some who have had large experience of him under varying circumstances. Be this as it may, there are many stories told to his honour of his generosity to his enemies in the moment of victory. A Newfoundland dog, who had for some time treated with becoming dignity the impudence of some mongrels who were amusing themselves by snapping and snarling at his heels, suddenly turned and sent the crowd of persecutors flying in all directions, except the ringleader, who fell sprawling in the middle of the street, where he was about to receive the punishment he deserved when a cable car came dashing down the hill, right upon the dogs. The big dog saw the danger at once and sprang aside, but his enemy remained upon his back, too terrified to notice anything. The Newfoundland took in the situation, in a moment sprang back in front of the car, seized the cur in his teeth, and snatched him, still whining and begging for mercy, out of the very jaws of death. Laying him in the gutter, he gave a good-natured wag or two of his tail and went his way. Another Newfoundland much bothered by a small cur who was for ever barking at his heels, but who treated his assailant with sublime indifference, was on one occasion aroused to adopt drastic measures by receiving a bite on his leg. Seizing the cur by the loose skin of his back he carried him down to the quay of Cork and after letting him dangle over the water for a little while, dropped him into it. After watching the animal struggle with the water until nearly exhausted, the Newfoundland plunged in and rescued him. Mr. Jesse gives a fine illustration of this canine chivalry, witnessed at Donaghadee. "The one dog in this case was also a Newfoundland, and the other was a mastiff. They were both powerful dogs; and though each was good-natured when alone, they were very much in the habit of fighting when they met. One day they had a fierce and prolonged battle on the pier, from the point of which they both fell into the sea; and as the pier was long and steep, they had no means of escape but by swimming a considerable distance. Throwing water upon fighting dogs is an approved means of putting an end to their hostilities; and it is natural to suppose that two combatants of the same species tumbling themselves into the sea would have the same effect. It had; and each began to make for the land as best he could. The Newfoundland being an excellent swimmer, very speedily gained the pier, on which he stood shaking himself; but at the same time watching the motions of his late antagonist, which, being no swimmer, was struggling exhausted in the water, and just about to sink. In dashed the Newfoundland dog, took the other gently by the collar, kept his head above water, and brought him safely on shore. There was a peculiar kind of recognition between the two animals; they never fought again; they were always together: and when the Newfoundland dog had been accidentally killed by the passage of a stone waggon on the railway over him, the other languished and evidently lamented for a long time."

The Newfoundland's Perception of Danger.

The quickness with which the Newfoundland will realise the danger of a situation and the promptitude with which he will devise a remedy, make him in some cases a more valuable friend in need than a man could be. Human aid would have probably been too slow in the following case related by Mr. Jesse. "In the city of Worchester, one of the principal streets leads by a gentle declivity to the river Severn. One day a child, in crossing the street, fell down in the middle of it and a horse and cart, which was descending the hill, would have passed over it, had not a Newfoundland dog rushed to the rescue of the child, caught it up in his mouth, and conveyed it in safety to the foot pavement."

The promptitude with which he will leap into the water to save the drowning, without waiting for any word of command, is another illustration of this faculty. Another case related by Mr. Jesse may be quoted. "In the year 1841, as a labourer, named Rake, in the parish of Botley, near Southampton, was at work in a gravel-pit, the top stratum gave way, and he was buried up to his neck by the great quantity of gravel which fell upon him. He was at the same time so much hurt, two of his ribs being broken, that he found it impossible to make any attempt to extricate himself from his perilous situation. Indeed, nothing could be more fearful than the prospect before him. No one was within hearing of his cries, nor was any one likely to come near the spot. He must almost inevitably have perished, had it not been for a Newfoundland dog belonging to his employer. This animal had been watching the man at his work for some days, as if he had been aware that his assistance would be required; for no particular attachment to each other had been exhibited on either side. As soon, however, as the accident occurred, the dog jumped into the pit, and commenced removing the gravel with his paws; and this he did in so vigorous and expeditious a manner, that the poor man was at length able to liberate himself, though with extreme difficulty. What an example of kindness, sensibility, and I may add reason, does this instance afford us!"

Mr. Youatt gives a remarkable illustration, also quoted by Mr. Jesse, of a Newfoundland's apparent perception of danger of quite another sort. Finding it inconvenient to keep this animal Mr. Youatt had given it to a friend, and four years passed before the dog saw his late owner again, when they met quite by chance, the two masters and the dog, on a lonely road between Wandsworth and Kingston. The dog showed every sign of pleasure at meeting his old master, but when they parted faithfully followed the new. Mr. Youatt had not proceeded far, however, when he discovered that the dog had rejoined him and was walking at his side, growling and showing every sign of anger. Looking ahead he discovered two men approaching him stealthily from behind the bushes that skirted the road. "I can scarcely say," says Mr. Youatt, "what I felt; for presently one of the scoundrels emerged from the bushes, not twenty yards from me; but he no sooner saw my companion, and heard his growling, the loudness and depth of which were fearfully increasing, than he retreated, and I saw no more of him or of his associate. My gallant defender accompanied me to the direction-post at the bottom of the hill, and there, with many a mutual and honest greeting, we parted, and he bounded away to overtake his rightful owner. We never met again; but I need not say that I often thought of him with admiration and gratitude."

The Newfoundland's Sense of Right and Wrong.

A number of well authenticated stories, seem to indicate a certain sense of right and wrong as characteristic of the more intelligent dogs; of course the idea of right and wrong being in the case of animals as in the case of men, largely a matter of education. The Newfoundland dog belonging to the Rev. J. Simpson of Potterow Church, Edinburgh, already referred to, on one occasion detained a party of friends which had been entertained by the servants during their master's absence at church, by stationing himself in front of the hall door and preventing their egress until the rev. gentleman's return. Another Newfoundland dog who belonged to a grocer, and who had seen a porter hide money behind a heap of rubbish in a stable,--money which he had surreptitiously abstracted from the till,--followed an apprentice into the stable on the first opportunity, and scratching away the rubbish exposed the money to view, thus leading to the detection of the thief. It is of course easy to claim too much for actions apparently so intelligent and in estimating them coincidence has to be allowed for; but they are far too numerous to be ignored in estimating canine character. An instance is recorded of a quiet docile dog who refused to allow a visitor to leave a stable, when it was discovered that the man had secreted a bridle in his pocket.

The Newfoundland's Fidelity.

Many illustrations might be given of the fidelity which the Newfoundland shows in common with other dogs, but one or two must suffice. A story is told of a dog who picked up a coin which his master had dropped from his purse, and which he kept in his mouth all day, refusing food until his master's return in the evening, when he laid it at his feet, and then attacked his dinner voraciously; another of a dog who on being sent home by his master with a key which he had inadvertently taken with him, was attacked by a dog belonging to a butcher, but who declined the combat until he had delivered the key, but immediately returned and attacking the butcher's dog killed him. In the first case the dog suffered the natural pangs of hunger rather than hazard his master's property, and in the second he postponed the gratification of his natural feeling of revenge until after the execution of his duty.

The Newfoundland under Training.