Page images
PDF
EPUB

particularly loquacious to the dogs: should one of these queer specimens jabber in a Cornish or a Yorkshire dialect to a dog trained on the Grampians, the dog will understand from his look whether he is pleased or offended, but nothing more. The dog has not the gift of tongues, but he is a Lavater in physiognomy. The following instance of the fidelity and courage of a terrier occurred in Glasgow :—

"One evening, as a young gentleman of the name of Hardy was passing through St. Andrews Square, on his way home to his father's house in Charlotte Street, he was stopped opposite to the north-west corner of St. Andrews Church by a man armed with a large stick, who seized him by the breast, and striking him a violent blow on the head, desired him instantly to deliver his watch. As he was preparing to repeat the blow, a terrier belonging to Mr. Hardy, sprang at the ruffian and seized him by the throat, and his master at the same time giving him a violent push, he fell backwards and dropped his stick, which the other immediately seized and carried home. The terrier soon after followed him home, bearing in his teeth as a trophy of his courage nearly half the front of the man's waistcoat, in the lining of which half a guinea was found carefully sewed up. The waistcoat was of coarse woollen stuff, with a black stripe, much worn and tattered, and not at all corresponding with the elegance of the walking stick, which had a gilt head, and contained a handsome small sword."

The fidelity of dogs generally may be illustrated by the following:

"In October, 1803, during the deluge with which the island of Madeira was visited, a remarkable circumstance happened near St. John's river. A maidservant in flying from one of the fallen houses, aropped

an infant from her arms, which was supposed to have perished. Next day, however, it was found unhurt on a dry piece of ground along with a shock dog belonging to the same family. The dog was close by the child, and it is imagined that the child was kept alive! by the warmth of the faithful animal's body."

"After the execution of Sabinus, the Roman general, who suffered death for his attachment to the family of Germanicus, his body was exposed to the public upon the precipice of the Germonice, as a warning to all who should dare to defend the fallen house. No relative had courage to approach the corpse; one friend only remained true-his faithful dog. For three days the animal continued to watch the body; his pathetic howlings awakened the sympathy of every heart. Food was brought to him, which he was kindly encouraged to eat, but on taking the bread, instead of obeying the impulse of hunger, he fondly laid it on his master's mouth, and renewed his lamentations.

Days thus passed, nor did he for a moment quit his charge the body was at length thrown into the Tiber, and the generous and faithful creature, still unwilling that it should perish, leaped into the water after it, and clasping the corpse between his paws, vainly endeavoured to preserve it from sinking; and only ceased his endeavours with his last breath, having ultimately perished in the stream."

In the Sporting Magazine the following anecdote is told, which exhibits a rare, yet affecting occurrence, in exemplification of animal sympathy:

"An ill-fated cat fell into the hands of some young ruffians, who commenced the first stage of cruelty, which often leads to great crimes, and to an ignominious end. The little wretches had passed from

cruelty to cruelty, alternately stoning their victim and dragging it through a dirty pool of water, then beating and bruising it, and menacing it with drowning. Bipeds passed by unheeding the animal's cries of distress, which were now nearly coming to a close with its life, when a feeling quadruped came forward to save it. A dog, having contemplated for some time this scene of inhumanity, and barked disapprobation, rushed forward on the young assassins, and driving them one by one furiously off the spot, sprang to the rescue of the bleeding animal, and withdrawing it from the deep ditch, bore it off in triumph to his quarters; there extending it upon the straw, and licking it all over, he recalled the vital spark, and then laying himself down upon it, restored it to some degree of ease from the warmth imparted to it.

"After this, the kind and feeling dog fetched provision to his sick charge, and the people of the house, inspired by the example of the minor animal, gave it warm milk. Day after day did the dog attend the sick object of his care, until it was perfectly recovered; and they are both to be seen at this day, after a long lapse of years, at the Talbot Inn, Liverpool."

"Many are still the deer forests of Scotland, but they are not what they were. Once a whole forest was dedicated to the services of the chase alone: you might have travelled from Banffshire to Ben Nevis without deviating from the region possessed by the noble Huntly. Sutherland, throughout the whole of its extent, was one prodigious forest, and so it still is, although the introduction of sheep-farming has made it lose its old pre-eminence. We need not mention more; the time has been, and it is not yet far distant, when a herd of deer was to be found on every mountain north of the Tay, and the slaughter at each

tinchel was as great as that of the dolorous hunt which caused the fight of Chevy Chase. Did we say north of the Tay? The time has been when a fairer forest than any in the rugged highlands grew on the banks of Ettrick and Yarrow, and down by Tiviotdale.' That forest has been sung by many a bard, and though now destroyed (all save a few old trees on the banks and scaurs of St. Mary's Lake, melancholy memorials of the rest!) will flourish in memory as long as the Scottish minstrelsy is sung, and the deeds which it celebrates remembered with affection and pride. Yes, the days have indeed altered since

"King James and a' his companie,

Rade down the Meggat glen;"

and the echoes of Loch Skene will never more be awakened by the baying of the hound and the merry blast of the horn!" Sport. Mag.

The dogs of Constantinople may be divided into two classes-the Frank and the Turkish dog. The first class is small, and only to be found in the streets of Pera, or harbouring about the doors of Frank houses and cafes. They appear to be nearly all akin, if not in the direct line, from the English pointer dog; and it has been supposed that some English travellers, who have visited Pera, have either lost their dogs or had them stole from them, and from these the present race has sprung; as certainly they have not been trained to the field, as I ascertained from several persons who had made trial of them. Some of these dogs appear to have a local habitation and a name, as they may frequently be seen sitting in the door-ways of Frank houses, to which they have-what is always denied to the Turkish dog-the privilege of entree. The greater part, however, like their Turkish brethren, are name

less and houseless wanderers, living and sleeping entirely on the street, or among the ruins of some adjacent building. They are harmless, and do not bark or snap at the Frank as he passes; neither do the Franks beat or molest them in the smallest degree, but seem rather to regard them as unfortunate strangers in a foreign land; and if one of them should get assailed by a Turkish dog, woe to the assailant if a Frankish stick is near at hand!

The first thing that attracts a stranger on arriving at the Capital of the Turkish empire, is the immense number of dogs he meets lying in his way, some in the centre of the street, others right across the footpath, sound asleep, and perfectly unconscious that they have chosen the situation of all others that will subject them to most danger. In walking along a stick is absolutely necessary in order to make them get out of the way; and in many cases three or four good blows have to be administered in order to get the lazy cur to move. An Irishman, whose patience had been severely tried during the winter of 1838-9, used to remark, that "they were four-stroke-proof gentlemen: one blow on the head to awaken them; another on the legs to let them feel they were awake; a third on the face to make them get up; and a fourth behind to help them to run away.'

22

If a stranger appears in the street in the Frank dress, (and the dogs know a stranger as well as the prefet de la police de Paris,) and the dog be not asleep, he instantly sets up a howl, which soon draws all the other dogs in the vicinity forth to join the chorus. Woe to the poor stranger who is annoyed in walking along the streets of a strange town with six or eight dogs at his heels, and as many standing on each side of him! his temper will be sadly put to the test. The

« PreviousContinue »