Cuvier, the great French naturalist, says that the “dog is the mostcomplete, the most remarkable, and the most useful conquest evermade by man.”
“Every species has become our property. Each individual isaltogether devoted to his master, assumes his manners, knows anddefends his goods, and remains attached to him until death; and allthis proceeds neither from want nor constraint, but solely from truegratitude and real friendship.”
“The swiftness, the strength, and the scent of the dog have enabledhim to conquer other animals; and, without the dog, man perhapscould not have formed a society. The dog is the only animal whichhas followed man into every part of the earth.”
“The Exquimaux employ their dogs as we do horses. The dogs are madeslaves; but are docile and faithful, particularly to the women, whomanage them by kindness and gentleness. In Germany you often seedogs drawing carts; and in London dogs are harnessed into littlecarts to carry round meat for the cats.”
Here Harry expressed his opinion that this was abusing the dogs.
“I am told,” continued Mrs. Chilton, “that when the driver of thesedog carts cries ‘Cats’ Meat,’ all the cats look out from their holesand hiding-places for their accustomed piece.”
“We,” said Harry, “give pussy something out of our plates all cookedand nice, and so I suppose she is a better cat, and less cattish.”
I dare say you know that there are a great variety of dogs. TheNewfoundland dog not only drags carts and sledges, but has a sort ofweb foot that makes him a particularly good swimmer. He often savesthe lives of his human friends.
The Lapland dog looks after the reindeer, and drives them with thegreatest gentleness to their homes or away from any danger.
The shepherd’s dog does the same for the flock. He runs after anystray sheep, and just says, with a very amiable little bark, “Friendsheep,” or “My little lamb, that’s not the way.”
Then there is the terrier to catch our rats; the mastiff and spanielto guard our houses; the lapdog for ladies to play with; the poodlesto laugh at; and once there was the turnspit to roast our meat forus.
Besides these and many I have not mentioned there are all thedifferent hunting dogs; the pointers and setters for birds; thehounds for hares, rabbits, foxes, and deer.
When I was in England, I saw the start for a deer hunt. The hunters,with their red jackets, were assembled on horses longing to start.The dogs were all fastened together and held still by the keepers. Alarge open heath was before us.
Presently a covered cart was driven up. One end was opened, and astag leaped out.
He stood still, and looked up and all around him, as much as to say,”What are we all about?” He had, apparently, no thought of runningany where.
At last, they sent a little dog to bark at him, and soon away hescampered over fences and through fields; like the wind, he flew.
When he was out of sight, the keeper let his dogs loose. They didnot run at first, but smelt all around, one dog leading the others.At last, he pricked up his ears, and they all set up a race afterhim, like a streak of lightning, as our Jem would say.
Now the huntsmen started, and they followed as near as they could.The dogs leaped over a hedge, a pretty high one. Away went thehuntsmen after them.
I saw one man thrown as he tried to leap the hedge, and away wenthis horse and left him.
I saw two, three, four go over as if they were flying. O, howbeautiful it was to see them!
Then I saw a rider and his horse both fall into a ditch they weretrying to leap. Then came another, and over he went, all clear, as acat might jump.
The hunter in the ditch scrambled out, but his horse was hurt andcould not move.
Some men from the farm house, before which I was sitting, looking atthe hunt, took ropes and went to help the maimed horse.
By this time, we heard but faintly the huntsmen’s horn and merryshouts; and soon they were all out of sight, save the four or fivemen who were aiding the poor horse to get out of the ditch.
I returned home, thinking that, after all, hunting tame deer was apoor amusement. But I am an American lady; and were I an Englishgentleman, I might feel very differently.
“I think I should like hunting right well. It would be real goodfun,” said Harry.
“And so should I,” said Frank.
The dog of the St. Bernard, who is called the Alpine spaniel, youhave heard and read of; and you have that pretty picture of one ofthose dogs with a boy on his back.
I have, as you know, been among the Swiss mountains; and the thoughtof the good monks living in those awful solitudes through the stormsof winter, with the avalanches for their music, and only anoccasional traveller for society, and with these gentle, loving dogsfor companions, gave me a new love for these excellent animals.
I thought, too, of the poor traveller who had lost his way, andfound his strength failing. I imagined his joy at the sight of oneof these dogs with a cloak on his back, and a bottle of cordial tiedto his neck.
I saw, in my mind, the good “fellow-creature” showing the way to theshelter which his truly Christian masters are so glad to afford.
These monks, it is said, keep a bell ringing during storms. It seemsto me I can see one of the old monks sitting over his fire, puttingon more wood, and making his tight chalet as warm as he can, in case