Walter A. Dyer (1878 - 1943) was a prolific American author, journalist, and newspaper editor. Although he wrote on many topics, dogs seemed to be among his favorites.
This book's first, and I believe only, publication was in 1918 (New York: Holt), though it is available in a modern reprint edition; click the cover image at right for the Amazon.com page.
A novel of young boyhood adventures, something of a reminiscence though fictional, with a great deal of emphasis on dogs, most of it presented in accounts of different dog breeds and dog-related activities by one of the adult characters in the story, Mr. Hartshorn.
The first substantive mention of Newfs is as follows, and includes many previously-published anecdotes:
Another fine dog that has gone out of fashion is the Newfoundland. There are still some good ones in England, but very few here. I suppose the New- foundland has more rescues of drowning persons to ars see his credit than any other breed, and it's a shame to see him go. The breed originated on the island of Newfoundland a hundred years ago, and you will still see a dog's head on the Newfoundland postage stamps.
The Newfoundland has a waterproof coat and is a wonderful swimmer, so that a good many of the anecdotes told about dogs of this breed have to do with their exploits in the water. For example, there is one of a man who fell off a narrow foot-bridge into a swift mill stream. The miller's dog promptly dived in and rescued him, and having accomplished this, coolly plunged in again to save the man's hat that was just about to be swept over the dam. There are several amusing stories told of Newfoundlands dragging bathers to shore, quite against their wills, because the dogs fancied they were in danger.
(this image is not in the original text; click image for more on Newfoundland stamps)
A naval lieutenant owned a canary bird and a Newfoundland dog. While they were cruising in the Mediterranean, the bird escaped from the cabin and, flying out to sea, became weighted down with the spray and dropped into the water. The dog leaped overboard, and when he was hauled up on deck again, he dropped the bird out of his mouth, quite uninjured. Another naval officer who owned a Newfoundland was drowned when his ship was sunk near Liverpool. The faithful dog swam about over the spot for three days and three nights, searching vainly for his master, before he would allow himself to be brought exhausted to land.
Friendships between two dogs are very rare, but instances have been recorded, and in most of these a Newfoundland figures. At Donaghadee there was once a mastiff and a Newfoundland who were, for some reason, bitter enemies, and as both were powerful dogs, it was desirable to keep them apart. One day, however, the mastiff attacked the Newfoundland on the pier, and a terrific fight ensued. At length both dogs fell into the water and loosed their holds. The Newfoundland was soon on dry land, but the mastiff was a poor swimmer and appeared in danger of drowning. The Newfoundland, observing the plight of his recent antagonist, plunged in again and brought him to shore, after which the two dogs were the closest friends. Another Newfoundland at Cork became so annoyed by a small, troublesome cur, that at last he took him in his mouth and dropped him into the water. When the small dog was nearly drowned the Newfoundland rescued him, and was never annoyed by him again.
"But the Newfoundland has been the means of saving not merely drowning persons. In 1841 a laborer named Rake in the parish of Botley, near Southampton, in England, was buried in a gravel pit with two ribs broken. He was helpless and would eans ar undoubtedly have died there if his employer's Newfoundland dog had not dug him out.
William Youatt, who wrote two or three of the dog books in my library, tells of an experience he once had with a friend's Newfoundland dog named Carlo. Youatt and the friend and Carlo parted on the road to Kingston, the dog and his master turning off toward Wandsworth. Soon afterward Youatt was accosted by ruffians. He never knew what made Carlo come back to him, but the dog appeared at the critical moment and drove the men away. Carlo escorted Youatt to a safe place, and then, in the author's quaint words, 'with many a mutual and honest greeting we parted, and he bounded away to overtake his rightful owner.'
The Newfoundland has always been famous as the protector of children, and this is illustrated by an amusing story told of a Newfoundland that was owned by the chief engineer on H. M. S. Buffalo. The incident took place on an evening in 1858 at the Woolwich theater in London. In the third act of the play, "Jessie Vere," there was a violent struggle over the possession of a child. The dog, who had sneaked into the theater behind his master, flew to the rescue across the footlights, much to the consternation of all concerned."
"My!" said Ernest Whipple, "there are certainly a fine lot of stories about Newfoundlands. Are they all true?"
"Well,” smiled Mr. Hartshorn, "I can't vouch for them all, but I believe that most of them are founded on fact, and some of them are undoubtedly quite true." (111 - 115)
Two other mentions of Newfoundlands in this book are incidental: in one, about an Old English Sheepdog, not particularly large, it is said that "when his hair was dry and all fluffed out he looked as big as a Newfoundland" (190). The other mention occurs in a list of "The More Importand Breeds of Dogs" that is appended to the novel. Of the Newf it says "Colors, jet black, black and white, or brown and white. Height, 25 to 29 inches. Weight, 110 to 150 pounds. Coat, long." (301)
The idea that the Newfoundland was a vanishing breed was touched on in a surprising number of magazine articles and books in the early years of the 20th Century. For discussion of the idea, see this article here at The Cultured Newf.
