"Down, Rover, down!" And as little Charley, a curly-headed boy about six years old, says the words, the great Newfoundland dog crouches at his feet and looks up imploringly to his laughing face. In another minute they are rolling together upon the grass plot, running and leaping joyously, and seem to be in a high state of pleasure and delight.
"Papa," says Charley, in the evening, "tell me all about dogs."
"Tell you all about dogs, my boy? why, I am afraid the story would be rather a long one."
"Would it? then write me a book about them; I should like to have a book about dogs."

But there is one other characteristic of this noble animal, I have not yet mentioned—that of a preserver of human life. Mr. Youatt tells us that he has seen a Newfoundland dog which on five distinct occasions saved the lives of men or children from drowning; and I have myself the honour of an acquaintance with a noble fellow of the same breed who has saved no fewer than four children and two men from watery graves. Of such facts, and of the usefulness of the dogs of St. Bernard in their peculiar offices of mercy and humanity, we shall, however, have something more to say by and by. (8)

Ho! Carlo! Newfoundland! Go follow his cry,
As it gaspingly answers The sea moaners sigh;
The boat shall be lower'd, The men shall belay,
Life-saver! Wave-Stemmer! Deep-diver! away!

Charles Mackay

Among the different varieties of Spaniels there are several that possess excellent qualities, but the Newfoundland Dog is the noblest of them all. He is a native of the island of Newfoundland, on the east side of North America. The inhabitants of St. John's, the the island, employ him in drawing wood in the winter time, many of them being harnessed together in a cart of clumsy make. During the summer season, when the natives have little use for their dogs, they leave them to shift for themselves, or only feed them scantily upon the garbage of the cod and other kinds of fish, so plentiful on these coasts. The dogs are, however, most shamefully overworked, and a great many of them are allowed to die of actuaal [sic] strvation [sic]. When I consider what a fine, noble, faithful, and sagacious creature the Newfoundland dog is, how ready it is at all times to plunge into the sea to save human life, even without the bidding of its master, and how bravely it defends his property against the depredations of robbers and strangers, I wonder that the people of those parts should treat it so cruelly. In every other part of the world the Newfoundland dog is valued on account of his excellent qualities, his fearlessness of danger, and his handsome form. His sagacity is greater than that of all other kinds of dogs. He seems, indeed, to want only the faculty of speech in order to make his wishes understood.
You all know the sort of dog a Newfoundland is; I will now therefore tell you a few true stories of his bravery and sagacity.
"Spring, Rover, spring! — softly though, or you will throw me down," said little Charley to his favourite, a large Newfoundland dog, at the same time holding his ball as far above his head as he could reach. Rover leaped up, and down rolled Charley Smithers upon the grass. He felt a little irritated, being, as folks say, "quick-tempered," but he remembered what his mother had said to him that morning about his heavenly Father knowing and seeing with His eye, which never sleeps, when he gave way to angry passions, and resolving that he would conquer this time, he laughed and said, "Well, Rover, you must do better the next time, or I shall be afraid to play with you." Rover looked quite sorry for a moment, and then commenced throwing the ball, which he would first catch in his mouth, and then toss from him, until Charley had forgotten all about his fall. Rover was very large, and sometimes did mischief without intending it, but no sooner was he aware of his fault than he would hang his head and look so penitent and miserable that no one could be long displeased with him. As soon as he was sure that he was forgiven, he would frisk about, rub gently against the person he had offended, and strive to lick his hands; in this way he often behaved towards his young master, with whom he was a great favourite, and Charley's heart was soon softened, and he would throw his arm around Rover's neck, and kiss him, and the reconciliation would be complete. Sometimes Rover was punished by being placed in a corner. Now this was no great hardship, but the sagacious animal always knew that it was a disgrace. But he was so honourable that he would never move from the spot until he had permission to do so from the one who had banished him there. The way in which the dog came into the possession of little Charley I will relate to my readers, but I must first tell them something about Rover's master himself. He was the only son of Captain and Mrs. Smith- ers, who lived in a seaport town on the south coast. His mother was a pious lady, and she was very desirous that her little son should be a good boy, and this she strove hard to make him both by precept and example. Captain Smithers was a kind-hearted man, and much attached to his family. The The principal part of his life was passed upon the mighty deep, and when he returned home he thought more about enjoying himself in his own way than of correcting the faults of his son, and thinking that what he neglected would be made up by the counsels of his wife, he remained perfectly easy with regard to the whole matter. Charley, possessing naturally an irritable disposition, required constant and judicious management, and fervently his excellent and affectionate mother prayed that she might be directed aright in her efforts to control and subdue any traits of character in her child which would mar his happiness. Mr. Smithers never interfered with her commands to Charley, only to insist upon their being obeyed, but for some reason the boy took greater liberties with his father than with his mother, although he appeared to love one just as well as the other. When Charley was a little toddling thing, a friend of his father visited at their house, and, taking a great fancy to Charley, gave Rover, then a puppy, to the boy, who, being perfectly delighted with it, would scarcely allow it out of his sight. Rover, on his part, at once attached himself to his young master, and would watch him for hours when asleep, and was his constant playfellow when awake. One day Charley wanted a bone which had been given to Rover, and which he was very unwilling to give up. He did not attempt to bite his young master, however but only growled, and looked up beseechingly at him, as if to say, "You have had your dinner, do let me have mine." But Charley was determined to have the bone, and catching up the poker, which, having just been used, was hot, he gave Rover a blow with all his strength. Now he was a little boy and could not strike very hard, but the poker being hot, it burned the poor dog badly, and he ran to Mrs. Smithers for protection, crying bitterly. The heart of the mother was deeply grieved, and taking her son by the hand, she gently led him to her bedroom, and after telling him the evils which often occur from such sudden ebullitions of temper, she prayed with him, and left him to think over what he had done for a little time. Charley soon sought his mother, and told her he had asked God to pardon him, and he hoped her forgiveness would be granted also. This was readily accorded, but his mother told him that she could not let him have Rover to play with for a week. This was a great punishment to Charley, but he knew that he deserved it, and although Rover often looked up beseechingly when his young master went out to play, still Mrs. Smithers was firm, and Charley was obliged to play alone until the week had elapsed. It was a happy day for the playmates when they were again permitted to frolic together, and as Charley looked at the scar on Rover's back he, with tears in his eyes, promised his mother that he would never again be guilty of such an impetuous act.
"I had rather you should say that you will try, my son, never to do so again; and you will keep your resolution, if you ask God to assist you. Perhaps the scar on the poor dog, which will always remain, will assist you in remembering your desire to control your temper; it may in the end, although it has caused suffering to honest Rover, be the means of great good to yourself."
As Charley grew older, he went every day to school. Rover accompanied him, and carried his books and his lunch. As it was against the rules for a dog to be in the building during school hours, Rover, after performing his duty, returned home; but he was always at the school-house door, waiting for Charley, when he was dismissed. One day, however, by some means he got fastened into a room which was not much used by the family. He waited patiently until it was time to go for his young master; he whined and cried to get out, but no one coming that way, he was not released; and without thinking of the consequences, he jumped through the window, breaking the glass and sashes, which flew in all directions. As soon as Rover had done this, he knew that it was wrong, and holding down his head, and looking as meek as possible, he proceeded on his way to meet Charley. The two friends went home; but the boy noticed that Rover would not play as usual, but seemed sick or subdued. As soon as they arrived at the house, Charley ran to tell his mother that something was the matter with Rover. Mrs. Smithers looked round for the dog, but could see nothing of him. Having occasion to go into the sitting-room about half an hour after, there he sat in the recess where he was ordered when he had done anything wrong. Mrs. Smithers could not help laughing when she looked at the poor animal; and the moment Rover saw this, he came humbly to her, and resting his nose on her lap fixed his eyes upon hers. His mistress did not scold him for what he had done; for she knew that nothing but his impatience to meet his young master at the usual hour would have induced him to break the glass. She therefore only pointed to the window, and told him not to do so again, and then opened the door, and allowed him to find Charley. The two were soon having a fine game at romps, and the affair of the broken window appeared to be entirely forgotten. Several weeks after, however, Mrs. Smithers, upon some slight fault being committed by the dog, pointed to the window; and the sagacious animal marched deliberately to the recess, and waited until his mistress told him that he might come away.
Rover was an excellent watch dog, and always examined the premises in every direction, each night, to see that no person was lurking around.
One beautiful night, Charley and a little girl — a cousin of his, who, with her mother, was visiting Mrs. Smithers — were playing in the grounds near the house among the shrubbery, which was quite thick. One of the children would hide, and then call to the other from the place of concealment, who would search for the missing companion; and when found, they would have quite a frolic about the matter. Rover was with them, and seemed to enter into the spirit of the game with as much pleasure as the children. The little girl had round her neck a gold chain, to which a miniature of her father was attached. This her mother had allowed her to wear for a time, as a reward for some task which she had said during the day. The child was very fond of her father, and considered it a great privilege to be permitted to wear the miniature. Just as little Mary had concealed herself in a nice snug place, where she was quite sure Charley would not find her for a long time, Rover, greatly to her annoyance, began to growl; and although she told him to keep still, he continued to growl louder. In a moment, a woman, to whom Mrs. Smithers had given bread and meat that day, came in sight, and asked Mary to let her look at the pretty picture she had on her neck. The child, delighted to show what she thought so beautiful, at once took it off, and passed it to her: she had no sooner got it than she started to run at a pace which her age and infirmities would have seemed to render impossible. Mary began to cry, and beg for her pretty papa, but of course to no purpose. Help, however, was at hand; the strong and brave Rover immediately sprang upon the thief, and held her, notwithstanding her desperate efforts to escape. The cries of Charley and Mary soon brought assistance in the person of James, the gardener, who seized upon her, took the chain from her, and led her to his mistress. Mrs. Smithers felt, at first, that it was her duty to have the woman sent to prison; but after hearing her story, she determined to let her go, and in the end, in this case, it proved to be the right course. It appeared that this poor creature had once known better days; she was the daughter of a respectable former, and was accustomed, before her marriage, to the comforts and even to some of the elegances of life. When only seventeen years of age, she had run away from her home, and married a young man whom her parents had forbidden the house, as her father had learned that he was in the habit of drinking occasionally to excess. For a long time after the young people were married, James Brown had remained sober; but meeting with friends that he had not seen for some time, he was induced to drink, and was brought home to his wife intoxicated, and perfectly insensible to her tears and entreaties that he would never do thus again. The fatal step was taken, and poor James went on from bad to worse until he finally filled a drunkard's grave, leaving his wife penniless, with two children dependent upon her for support. She worked for them as long as she could get anything to do; but after a while her health failed, and when she came to Mrs. Smithers to beg that day, her children had eaten nothing for several hours. Perfectly desperate at seeing them devour what had been given her, and ashamed to beg again, — for this was the first time she had done so, — she remembered that, as Mrs. Smithers was talking to her, she had seen a gold chain on the little girl's neck, and thinking that perhaps she could beg it from the child, who was too young to know its value, she made up her mind to get it in her possession if possible. She did not decide on this wicked act until she had tried at several places to get work, and been refused, probably on account of her wild and haggard appearance. On her way home from the last place at which she had called, and from whence she had been almost driven by an impertinent servant, she was obliged to pass Mrs. Smithers's house; and hearing the voices of the children, the wicked desire of the morning returned to her mind with such power, that, notwithstanding her efforts, —and she did try hard to drive the temptation from her, — she could not resist creeping into the grounds, to be near the children, and watch an opportunity to steal the chain. She had been looking at the little ones for a long time, and had been near enough to Mary several times to snatch the chain, but her heart had failed her. Once she reached out her hand, and almost touched the child; but the instructions of her dead mother came to her mind with such vividness, that she could not then take it, and that opportunity passed. The next time that the child hid, Rover was with her; and the poor woman would have feared him, — for his reputation as a watchdog was known all over the neighbourhood, — but just at that moment the thought of her children crying for bread ren- dered her desperate, and she hesitated no longer. The appearance of the innocent child, whom she was about to deprive of her treasure, however, caused the tears to come to her eyes; but she drove them back, and would have escaped with her ill-gotten gain, but for faithful Rover's efforts.
Mrs. Smithers, after listening to the poor creature's story, was very glad that she had not sent the gardener for a constable; and seeing that the woman was really desirous of honestly earning her living, she resolved to befriend her; and wanting a servant at the time, she determined to take Susan Brown into her family, and by trusting and encouraging her she hoped that she would forget the severe trials which she had passed through, and become a better and a happier woman.
Mrs. Smithers's expectations were fully realised, and Susan became all that her mistress could wish. Her father, dying soon after this, on his death-bed repented of his unkindness to his child, and left her some property, with which she was enabled to educate and bring up her children well. She would not leave Mrs. Smithers, however, although not under the necessity, now, of working hard for a living. She still remains that lady's housekeeper, and is considered invaluable in that capacity by all the family, being trusted to an unlimited extent. Susan is almost as much attached to Rover as Charley; for she says that "but for his faithfulness she should have escaped with the chain, and should never have dared to look any honest person in the face again."
As our friend Charley grew older, he learned to govern his temper better, although it sometimes got the mastery; but one look at Rover's back generally brought him to reason; and if that did not do, he often made use of an excellent antidote for a quick temper, which his mother had obliged him to try in his childhood; and as this may be of service to some of my young readers, I will give them the recipe, although I do not often take the physician's business out of his hands: — Count twenty whenever the blood begins to rush to the face, and the angry words are about to be spoken. By the time the number was counted, Charley's anger was gone, and he could then talk calmly and rationally. Of course, being a sensible boy, he valued this recipe very much, and frequently availed himself of it in after life.
Charley had, from a child, manifested a very strong desire to go to sea with his father. This his parents regretted exceedingly. His mother felt that it was hard indeed to bear the constant anxiety which her husband's occupation occasioned her; but to have both husband and child abroad upon the raging billows, seemed to her more than she could possibly consent to, and she earnestly prayed that her child's inclinations might be led in some other direction.
Charley was now a fine tall lad of seventeen years of age; and it was time, his father thought for him to decide upon what business he would follow. Charley did not wish to displease his parents; but his mind was so firmly fixed upon a seafaring life, that his father and mother thought it best to let him go at least one voyage, trusting that the hardships of the occupation would prevent him from desiring to go again. His mother committed him to the care of his heavenly Fatherl and tried to be reconciled to what she could not help. At first it was decided that Rover must remain at home with his mistress; but the sagacious animal, probably comprehending what was said, followed Captain Smithers to his ship, and for several days nothing was seen of him. Charley was incon solable for his loss, and missed his playmate and friend so much that he thought of trying to buy another Newfoundland puppy, to take to sea with him. One day, as he was down in the hold of the vessel, stowing away some goods, he heard a low whine, which he thought he recognised; and going to the place from whence the sound proceeded, he found poor Rover, weak, but so overjoyed to see his dear master, that he could not help making a signal of recognition. Charley at once guessed the motive that had induced his favourite to conceal himself, and he made up his mind that Rover should go with him at all events. He told the faithful fellow so, and he appeared to comprehend what was said to him, for he went back to the house; and remained there quietly until the time arrived for his young master to take leave of his mother. Now Rover was upon the alert; every motion was watched; and a few minutes before Captain Smithers and his son left the house, the dog, seeing his mistress in tears, went and rubbed himself against her, and seemed desirous of offering her all the comfort in his power. As soon as the door opened, he rushed out, and was running down the street very fast towards the vessel, when Charley called him back, and said, "Rover, wait for us; you are going too." He immediately became composed, and waited patiently until all were ready, when with the utmost deliberation he walked to the ship by his master's side.
For a few days after the good ship Fanny left port the weather proved fine, and Charley was delighted with everything he saw; but soon a storm arose, the waves ran mountains high, and the wind increased until it blew a gale. Charley now saw for the first time the terrific spectacle of a storm at sea. A chill went to his heart as he looked abroad upon the endless expanse, as it seemed to him, of dark blue waves, crowned with white foam. The debilitating effect of sea-sickness added its influence to the awful spectacle in impressing his mind. Often, as he witnessed the increasing horrors of the tempest, did he think of his quiet and secure home — of the calm and serene course of events when under the eye of his excellent mother, as they went on from year to year; and he wished with all his heart that he were again with that mother, whose counsels now came to his mind, and greatly assisted him to his efforts to become resigned to whatever fate was in store for him. He fervently prayed to his Father in heaven, and the ear which is never closed to the prayer of faith heard, and his earnest petitions were answered. Even his father wondered at the firmness of the boy, and looked on admiringly as Charley strove to soothe the alarmed passengers. The storm raged for several hours, and then there was a lull, though the ocean was still whitened with foam. This sight was a most interesting one to Charley, and he felt as if compensated by it for the sufferings of the night. He had often heard his father speak of this, and had ardently desired to witness it; and as his life was spared, he told his parent that he did not then regret that he had taken the voyage.
Charley found some of his duties rather hard at first, but he would not complain; and as he had chosen a seafaring life, he felt that he must learn to do what he did well. So he plodded on, and soon became quite expert; so much so that he was a great favourite with the sailors, several of whom jestingly told him that they wished to engage themselves to go in his employ when he was captain. Rover was soon as great a favourite as his master; and again and again did Charley rejoice that he had taken him with him. He was so sensible a fellow that he always kept out of the way when he was not wanted and the sailors were busy. They taught him many new tricks; and although he was getting old, yet he seemed to learn as readily as ever; a life at sea appeared to agree with him perfectly. In fact, he was stronger and more active than when on shore; for the sailors made him bring and carry articles, in order that he might not grow too fat. This was very fortunate, for his strength and activity were soon to be exerted to the utmost. One morning the sun rose clear and beautiful, and the sea seemed almost as smooth as glass. Charley was sent aloft to unfurl a sail, which he did with ease; but in an instant almost, and without the slightest warning, a gust of wind came up, and blew round a portion of one of the sails, which, striking the young sailor, when he was not prepared for it, caused him to lose his hold and fall into the sea. Fortunately, the vessel was only going at the rate of a few miles an hour, and her progress was arrested as soon as possible. It took some time, however, to do this, and Charley would never again have been clasped in his mother's arms, had not the faithful Rover, as soon as he saw his master fall, sprung into the sea, and caught him, when he was nearly exhausted. Rover fastened his teeth into the collar of Charley's jacket, and swam with him for a long distance. Just as the poor dog was about to sink with his burden, a boat from the vessel came up, and both master and dog were rescued from a watery grave. Charley fainted immediately after being taken on board; but fatigued as Rover was, and hard as Captain Smithers and the sailors tried to make him lie down and rest, he would not leave his young master's side until he could sit up and speak to him, when the faithful creature seemed half wild with joy. He now suffered the sailors to dry his rough coat, and was perfectly passive in their hands. Charley never went aloft during the whole time he was at sea, that Rover did not stand ready to leap into the ocean, lest he should again fall overboard.
After a prosperous voyage the Fanny arrived safely in port; and Charley gladdened the heart of his mother by assuring her that he had experienced quite enough of a seafaring life, and was content to remain at home, and follow some less exciting and dangerous occupation.
Captain Smithers also determined to remain at home; and he and his son are now respected merchants in their native town.
Rover lived until he was eighteen years old, and then died quietly of old age. Charley felt very sad at his less, as did all the family; for they felt that in him they had lost a faithful and affectionate friend.
Charley buried him in the garden, and placed a monument over him, on which he inscribed part of the beautiful verses written by Lord Byron on the death of his dog, and which I have placed at the head of the first chapter of this book.
Many anecdotes are told of the sagacity of the Newfoundland dog. Here is one. A man living near Bourdeaux, in France, went one day into his vineyard to dress his vines; he did not return at his usual hour in the evening; but after a while his dog appeared, barking mournfully. The animal refused to enter the house, and barked and ran about as if inviting some one to follow. When he perceived that he was followed, he went direct to the field, and there beneath a tree was found his unfortunate master bathed in blood, with several deep wounds in different parts of his person. The man was taken home, and medical assistance was procured, but he died in the course of a few hours. It was not known at the time by whom or for what cause he was murdered; but one day as the nephew of the unfortunate vine-dresser was going through the town, the dog sprang suddenly at the neck of a well-dressed man, and had not assistance arrived he would have been pulled down and killed. Suspicion was aroused that this man was the murderer. He was taken into custody, and after a few days confronted with the dog again. The fury of the poor animal knew no bounds. He tore and barked, and rushed repeatedly at the iron bars that separated him from the prisoner. At length the wretched man confesssed to the murder, and was executed.
The attachment of dogs to particular bodies of men, as well as their love of music, has often been noticed. The following particulars of a Newfoundland dog which followed the fortunes of the band of the 79th regiment of Highlanders will not be uninteresting. The introduction to the regiment of this noble animal — for noble and generous in his nature the Newfoundland dog assuredly is — is characteristic of the attachment displayed by the canine race to the soldiery, and especially to the band. He first belonged to Lieutenant Keith Maitland of the 79th, who presented him to a gentleman in Quebec, who thought he would get harness for him, and teach him to draw a sleigh; the dog, however, did not like this sort of work, and returned to the quarters of the band, and no threats or inducements would cause him to leave them. So determined was the animal to remain with the band, that if a stranger came into the band-room, he would fly at him, thinking, probably, he had come to take him away. Fortunately for both dog and soldiers, the gentleman to whom he belonged never inquired for him. The Cape Barracks are, like Stirling Castle, built on a height. If any of the soldiers happened to be out, and got tipsy, the dog, "Cameron," used to attend that individual in.preference to all others, and manifest every anxiety to get him into barracks — pulling him by the sleeve, and so on. When it chanced that a soldier fell in the deep snow, the dog redoubled his exertions to get him home. He used to make a round of the castle daily, very often twice — in the forenoon and afternoon; calling at the gate, the guard-room, the sentries, etc, doubtless to see that all was right; and, apparently satisfied with his inspection, returning to his own quarters in the band-room. As may be supposed, he was a regular frequenter of the cook-house, where he was generally regaled with a bone from the cooks, who were all fond of "Cameron." He seemed to prefer the quarters and the company of the band, and took great delight in the music. When the band stopped, he very often lay down like a lion in their front. A handsome collar was made at Edinburgh for "Cameron," the regimental dog of the 79th Highlanders, with a suitable inscription, recording his good qualities and attachment to the regiment. I believe that he went out with the soldiers to Sebastopol, and was actually rewarded with a medal for saving the life of his master from the attack of a Russian soldier during one of the midnight sorties.
You have probably seen Sir Edwin Landseer's picture called "Dignity and Impudence" in which a great Newfoundland is looking calmly down upon a barking little Terrier in front of his kennel; well, I will conclude my anecdotes of the Newfoundland with a little story that might have given a hint to the painter. Dr. Abel, the lecturer on phrenology, had a fine large Newfoundland, which whenever he went out was assailed by all the little curs of the neighbourhood. "Noble," for that was his name, generally passed them by without notice; but one day a little dog was really so impertinent, barking and snapping at his heels, that the Newfoundland turned suddenly round, caught the offender with his teeth by the skin of his neck, and, taking him to the river side, deliberately dropped him into the water. After watching till the noisy little cur had had a good ducking, he plunged in, and brought him shaking and shivering to the shore. A pretty good lesson that, I think, of punishment and forbearance, especially for a dog that could not swim. It would have been difficult for a wise man to have adopted a mode of punishment more fit to meet the merits of the case — at once severe, wise, and merciful. (73 - 94)

The Newfoundland Dog has a sagacity that is remarkably strong and humane in its character. This animal appears as if designed to be a companion to man, but more particularly when he is exposed to the perils of the water. With semi-webbed feet, which make him a good swimmer, and an inclination to enter the water, this element seems half natural to his nature. It is when persons are in the act of drowning that the sagacity of this dog displays itself most strongly, and innumerable lives has it saved from a watery grave.
One instance will serve our purpose as well as a hundred which might be enumerated. A singular case is given of a person who was travelling in Holland, and accompanied by a Newfoundland Dog. Not taking proper heed to his steps in an evening walk along a high bank by the side of one of those deep canals common in the country, his foot slipped, letting him into the deep with a plunge, and; being unable to swim, the fishes' element soon deprived him of his senses. In the mean time the sagacious animal had no sooner discovered the danger to which his master was exposed, than he was in the water, and engaged in the struggle to rescue him from his peril. A party at a distance saw the faithful servant at one moment pushing, and at another dragging the body towards a small creek, where at length he succeeded in landing his charge, and placing it as far from the water as possible. This being done, the dog first shook himself, and then licked the hands and face of his apparently dead lord. The body being conveyed to a neighbouring house, the efforts to restore the lost senses were successful.
From the marks of teeth on the body, it appeared that the dog had taken his first hold on the shoulder; but finding that this did not keep the head out of the water, the instinct or the intelligence of the animal prompted him to change his grasp from the shoulder to the neck, by which he was enabled to raise the head above the strangling liquid for the distance of about a quarter of a mile. That this brute creature should have followed his master with such promptness is remarkable enough; but that he should have taken the precaution to keep his head above water, as if he knew that if he did not he would perish, is truly marvellous. What was the motor power in this case? Was it an impulse of instinct, to which the dog rendered a blind obedience? Or was it an act purely of intelligence? Our opinion is that it was a mixed operation, and that both instinct and intelligence had a share in the business. That much of it was owing to instinct, we have the proof in the fact that the Newfoundland Dog is not only always found ready to enter the water for such purposes, but even has a strong inclination for it, without either being commanded or directed, and without experience or a precedent. Perhaps the intelligence of this dog is more flexible and accommodating than that of any other species, but yet how infinitely short does it come of the universal. It has its limits, and if compared with the range man's reason takes, they will appear exceedingly narrow. We do not think, therefore, that the apparent sagacity in the feats of this fine animal is to be taken solely as the result of a purely reasoning faculty. The operations prove too much. (187 - 190)