WE give below a beautiful engraving of a dog's head by Harrison Weir, the artist, who is an ardent lover of animals; and in this connection recall several anecdotes of interest as illustrating the sagacity of domestic dogs.
A gentleman in Edinburgh had a clever Newfoundland dog called Dandie. Among other accomplishments he had been taught to take a penny in his mouth, and run to a certain baker's shop every morning, bringing back with him a loaf of white bread which the baker gave him for the penny. This bread he was allowed to eat. One may imagine the pleasure with which he would start away every day with the penny in his mouth for the favorite loaf. One morning a friend of his master's, who had frequently seen him going and returning on this errand, thought to play him a trick. Instead of a good penny he put a bad one in his mouth, and away went Dandie delighted as usual — rather more than usual, indeed, for two loaves in one day were a wonderful pleasure. The shop reached, up went Dandie's paws, and down went the penny on the counter. "Now for the loaf!" thought the expectant dog. But no, the baker looked at the penny curiously and suspiciously, turned it about in his hands, shook his head, and gave poor Dandie the money back again, and no bread! No doubt the baker smiled a little to himself too, thinking that some one had been making fun of the dog, and was not far off enjoying the frolic. As we may suppose, Dandie did not smile — his smile, a wag of the tail, was not forthcoming; it was a very serious matter to him that a penny should no longer be able to buy a loaf. He stood a moment thinking, for dogs can think, and to a certain extent reason very wisely, and then, with the useless penny in his mouth, he returned with it to the house of the gentleman who had deceived him, laid the penny at the feet of the servant who opened the door, and walked away with more than a look of disappointment — an air of contempt. If he could have spoken he would no doubt have said, "Tell your master he is a deceiver, and I will never take any more pennies from him."
A Newfoundland dog kept at the ferry-house at Worcester, England, became somewhat famous for having, at different times, saved three persons from drowning, and was so fond of the water as to consider a disinclination for it in other dogs as an insult to his species. If a dog was left on the banks by his master, and stood yelping and unwilling to take the water, the Newfoundland veteran would go down to him, and with a satirical growl, as if in mockery, take him by the neck, and throw him into the stream.