The large, powerful, and handsome dogs which go by the name of Newfoundland, are not the pure breed of that country. The latter are more slender in their make, have a sharper muzzle, a wilder look, and are generally black in colour, with a rusty spot over each eye, and a tawny muzzle. These are called Labrador dogs, and it is supposed that they and the Esquimaux have contributed to form the commonly accepted breed. What the latter have lost, however, in purity of blood, has been gained on the side of beauty; and there is no animal of its size which conveys a higher idea of intelligence and dignity than the so-called Newfoundland Dog. All are semi-palmate, and dive, swim, and keep longer in the water than any others of their tribe. One was picked up in the Bay of Biscay, out of sight of any other vessel, fatigued and hungry, and which, judging from the circumstances, must have been there for many hours. Their fidelity, their courage, their generosity, are proverbial; and yet it is whispered that they are occasionally capricious, and not to be trusted. During long years of intercourse with these animals I never met with an instance of this; and I have been told that it is more apt to occur when they have been kept in confinement.
A noble creature of the mixed breed, and of the usual colour black and white belonged to me, and his extreme good nature, and endeavours to guard everything belonging to the family, made him like a confidential servant. The great defects in his disposition were heedlessness, and an under-estimate of his own power ; he did not stop to think before he acted, as many more cautious dogs will do; and he forgot that his weight was so great as to spoil and crush whatever he laid himself upon. As an instance of the former, he one day fancied he saw some one whom he knew in the street, and immediately dashed through the window, smashing not only the glass, but the framework. Directly he had done it he felt he had been wrong; and returning through the shattered window, which was opened for him, he hung his head, and walked unbidden to a recess in the room covered with matting, to which place he was always banished when naughty, and seated himself. The bell was rung for the housemaid to come and clear away the broken glass; and as the woman smiled when she passed Lion, I turned my head towards him. There he sat, with a pair of my slippers, accidentally left in the room, in his mouth, as if he thought they would obtain his pardon. My gravity was disturbed; and Lion seeing this, humbly came up to me, and rested his chin on my knees. I then lectured him concerning the mischief he had committed; and he so perfectly understood, that for a long time, when any one pointed to the window, he would hang his head and tail, and look ashamed. During my absence he constantly collected articles which belonged to me, and slept upon them. One day, on returning from church, he met me on the stairs, dragging a new silk dress along with him by the sleeve, which he must have contrived by himself to have abstracted from a peg in a closet.
It must be owned that, clever as my Lion was, Professor Owen was acquainted with a Lion who surpassed him. This gentleman was walking with a friend, the master of the dog, by the side of a river, near its mouth, on the coast of Cornwall, and picked up a small piece of sea-weed. It was covered with minute animals; and Mr. Owen observed to his companion, throwing the weed into the water, "If this small piece afforded so many treasures, how microscopically rich the whole plant would be! I should much like to have one." The gentlemen walked on, but hearing a splashing in the water, turned round, and saw it violently agitated. "It is Lion!" both exclaimed; "what can he be about? He was walking quietly enough by our side a minute ago." At one moment they saw his tail above the water, then his head raised for a breath of air, then the surrounding element shook again, and at last he came ashore, panting from his exertions, and laid a whole plant of the identical weed at Mr. Owen's feet. After this proof of intelligence, it will not be wondered at, that when Lion was joyfully expecting to accompany his master and his guest on an excursion, and was told to go and take care of and comfort Mrs. Owen, who was ill, he should immediately return to the drawing-room and lay himself by her side, which he never left during the absence of his owner, his countenance alone betraying his disappointment, and that only for a few minutes.
Many instances are recorded of Newfoundland dogs having saved the lives of those who have fallen in the water; and among them was my father, who, when he was one day missing, was traced to a deep pond in his mother's garden. His friend Trial was called. Some of his young master's clothes were shown to the dog, the pond was pointed out, and Trial dashed in, shortly bringing out the body. He watched all the endeavours made to restore animation, and at last aided the work by being allowed, when dry, to get into the bed, and with the warmth of his body give heat and circulation to the half-expiring child.
A very interesting anecdote is given of a person who was travelling through Holland, accompanied by a large Newfoundland dog. Walking one evening on a high bank by the side of a canal, his foot slipped, he fell into the water, and, being unable to swim, soon became senseless. When he recovered his recollection, he found himself in a cottage on the opposite side of the canal, surrounded by peasants, who had been using all means for restoring him to life. He was told, that one of them returning home from his work, saw at a considerable distance a large dog swimming in the water, sometimes pushing and sometimes dragging something which he appeared to have great difficulty in supporting, but which he at length succeeded in getting into a small creek. When there, the animal pulled this object as far out of the water as he was able, and the peasant discovered it to be the body of a man. The dog shook himself, licked the hands and face of his master; the peasant obtained assistance, and the body was conveyed to the house, where the endeavours used for resuscitation proved successful. Two bruises with marks of teeth appeared, one on the shoulder, the other on the nape of his neck; whence it was presumed that his preserver first seized him by the shoulder, but that his sagacity prompted him to shift his grasp to the neck, as by so doing he could keep the head out of the water. He had continued to do this for at least a quarter of a mile, and thus preserved his owner, as much by his intelligence as by his affection.
The Newfoundland dog, like many others, possesses a sense of time, and Mr. Bell relates an instance of this which occurred under his own observation. He says that a fine Newfoundland dog, which was kept at an inn in Dorsetshire, was accustomed every morning, as the clock struck eight, to take in his mouth a certain basket, placed for the purpose, containing a few pence, and to carry it across the street to a baker's, who took out the money, and replaced it by the proper number of rolls. With these Neptune hastened back to the kitchen and safely deposited his trust; but, what was well worthy of remark, he never attempted to take the basket, or even to approach it, on Sunday mornings. On one occasion, when returning with the rolls, another dog made an attack upon the basket for the purpose of stealing its contents, when the trusty Neptune placed the basket on the ground, severely punished the intruder, and then bore off his charge in triumph.
The proofs of intelligence which I have related are perhaps surpassed by those of Dandie, a Newfoundland dog belonging to Mr. M'Intyre of Edinburgh; but it must be recollected that Dandie's education had beenmore carefully and continuously carried on than that of his before-mentioned brethren. He selected his master's hat from a number of others, or a card chosen by his master from a whole pack; picked his master's penknife from a heap of others, and any particular article which he might have been told to find, although he would have to search among a multitude of others belonging to the same person; proving that it was not smell which guided him, but an understanding of what he was required to do. One evening, a gentleman in company with others accidentally dropped a shilling on the floor, which after diligent search could not be found. Dandie had been sitting in the corner of the room, apparently unconscious of what had been going on. Mr. M'Intyre then said to him, "Find us the shilling, Dandie, and you shall have a biscuit." The dog instantly jumped up and laid the shilling upon the table, which he had picked up unperceived by the party. On his return home one evening after the family had gone to rest, Mr. M'Intyre could not find his boot-jack; upon which he said, "Dandie, I cannot find my boot-jack ; search for it." The dog scratched at the room door, his master opened it; and going to a distant part of the house, Dandie returned with the boot-jack in his mouth, where Mr. M'Intyre recollected to have left it under a sofa.
Several gentlemen were in the habit of giving Dandie a penny a day, which he always took to a baker's and exchanged for bread for himself. One of them was accosted by the dog for his accustomed present; but he said, "I have not a penny with me to-day, though I have one at home." Having returned to his house some time after, he heard a noise at the door; it was opened, and Dandie sprang in for his penny. By way of frolic, the gentleman gave him a bad one; the baker refused to exchange the loaf for it; the dog returned to the door, knocked, and when the servant opened it, laid the penny at her feet, and walked away with an air of contempt. He did not, however, always spend all his money; and one Sunday, when it was very unlikely that he could have received a present, he was observed to bring home a loaf. Surprised at this, Mr. M'Intyre desired the servant to search the room for money. Dandie seemed quite unconcerned till she approached the bed, when he gently drew her from it. Mr. M'Intyre secured him, for he growled and struggled; and continuing the search, the woman found sevenpence half-penny under a piece of cloth. From that time the dog could not endure her, and henceforth hid his money in the corner of a sawpit, under a heap of dust. He constantly escorted Mr. M'Intyre's friends home, when desired to do so, however considerable the distance; and when they were safe, he returned to his own quarters.
Mr. Jukes, in his Excursions in and about Newfoundland, speaks of a dog which appeared to be of the pure breed, and which he thought to be more intelligent than the mixed race. This animal caught his own fish; for which purpose he sat on a projecting rock beneath a fish stage, on which the fish were laid to dry, watching the water, the depth being from six to eight feet, and the bottom quite white with fish-bones. On throwing a piece of codfish into the water, three or four heavy, clumsy-looking fish, called in Newfoundland sculpins, would swim in to catch it. The instant one turned its broadside towards him, he darted down, and seldom came up without the fish in his mouth, He regularly carried them as he caught them to a place a few yards off, where he deposited them, sometimes making a pile of fifty or sixty in the day. As he never attempted to eat them, he appeared to fish for his amusement. (76 - 82)


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 Glaucus, 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 half way the fish managed to break loose, but Glaucus 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.(125 -127)


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 valuabe 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 bloodhound, 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 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 bloodhound, 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 bloodhound, 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 sound 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." (130 - 132)


I have already spoken of dogs which attach themselves to communities, and now I have a similar instance of a deer to offer, in combination, however, with a dog, who attached himself to the 42d Highlanders, having been presented to that regiment by a friend of one of the officers. The dog had belonged to a captain in the navy, who dined at the mess while the regiment was stationed in Malta, and so attached himself to that community that nothing would induce him to leave it; so his master was forced to leave his favourite Newfoundland behind him, who from that moment would not follow any one who did not wear the uniform of his friends. The soldiers subscribed, and gave him a collar with the name of the regiment on it, and called him Peter. A mutual attachment soon took place between the deer and the dog, and they regularly appeared on parade together. The latter frequented the cook-house, where the cook ill-treated him, which was not forgotten; and one day when the bathing time was come, at which recreation Peter was first in and the last out of the water, the cook joined the others of his corps; and Peter, knowing his power in his own element, pulled him down, and would have drowned him had not the soldiers come to his rescue.
Both the dog and deer marched with the band, and remained with it when in quarters. The latter was very fond of biscuit; but if it had been breathed upon he would not touch it, and although many ways of cheating him were tried, he invariably detected the contamination. At one time he became very irritable; and if a stranger passed between the band and the regiment, he attacked him with his antlers. He was grazing one day, when a cat from the neighbourhood bristled up her hair and set up her back at him; and the poor deer, seized with a sudden and unaccountable panic, sprang over a precipice two hundred feet high, and was killed on the spot. Peter being close by, rushed to the battlements, and barked and yelled most piteously. His own end was a tragic one. He snarled at an officer who had often ill-used him, and the unfeeling man ordered the poor dog to be shot by those who loved him, and lamented him as long as they lived. (286 - 287)