At the castle of a nobleman in Bohemia, a large English mastiff was kept, that never failed to go every Sunday to the village church. The other dogs in the neighbourhood used to follow him thither, so that the church was often full of these animals. This being considered a nuisance, orders were given by the magistrates, at one of the petty courts held for regulating the affairs of the village, that the inhabitants should be enjoined to keep all their dogs locked up every Sunday during the time of divine service. The magistrate who presided in this court said, in a loud and authoritative tone of voice, "I will suffer no dogs in the church; let me not see one there in future." The mastiff happened to be lying under the table in the court when these words were spoken, to which he appeared to listen with great attention. On the ensuing Sunday the dog rose at an early hour, ran from house to house through the village, barking at the windows, and at last took his station before the church-door, to see whether any of his companions would venture to approach it, notwithstanding the prohibition. Unfortunately one of them appeared. The mastiff immediately fell upon him with the utmost fury, bit him to death, and dragged him out into the street. He continued in the same manner for several subsequent Sundays to stand sentinel, without ever entering the church.

Captain Brown gives an interesting instance of the gentleness of a mastiff towards a child. He says that a large and fierce mastiff, which had broken his chain, ran along a road near Bath, to the great terror and consternation of those whom he passed. When suddenly running by a most interesting boy, the child struck him with a stick, upon which the dog turned furiously on his infant assailant. The little fellow, so far from being intimidated, ran up to him, and flung his arms round the neck of the enraged animal, which instantly became appeased, and in return caressed the child. It is a fact well known, that few dogs will bite a child, or even a young puppy. Captain Brown adds, that he possesses a mastiff, which will not allow any one of his family to take a bone from him except his youngest child.

A chimney-sweeper had ordered his dog, a mastiff crossed with a bull-dog, to lie down on his soot-bag, which he had placed inadvertently almost in the middle of a narrow back-street in the town of Southampton. A loaded coal-cart passing by, the driver desired the dog to move out of the way. On refusing to do so, he was scolded, then beaten, first gently, and afterwards with a smart application of the cart-whip, but all to no purpose. The fellow, with an oath, threatened to drive over the dog, and he did so, the faithful animal endeavouring to arrest the progress of the wheel by biting it. He thus allowed himself to be killed sooner than abandon his trust.

A mastiff-dog, who owed more to the bounty of a neighbour than to his master, was once locked by mistake in the well-stored pantry of his benefactor for a whole day, where milk, butter, bread, and meat, within his reach, were in abundance. On the return of the servant to the pantry, seeing the dog come out, and knowing the time he had been confined, she trembled for the devastation which her negligence must have occasioned; but, on close examination, it was found that the honest creature had not tasted of anything, although, on coming out, he fell on a bone that was given to him, with all the voraciousness of hunger.

These dogs are alive to injuries, and not slow in resenting them.

A carrier had a mastiff remarkable for his sagacity. It happened unfortunately one day, that one of the waggon-horses trod accidentally upon him in the yard. The dog became furious, and would have attacked the horse had he not been prevented. It was usual for the dog to remain with the horses at night in the stable. After the men had retired, the mastiff selected out the animal which had trod upon him, and, no doubt, would have put an end to his existence, had not the carters, who were at hand, hearing an unusual noise, come to his assistance.

The widow of a farmer had two mastiffs, which, from their fierceness, rendered some precaution necessary in approaching the house. Their mistress was taken suddenly ill and died, and in the afternoon of her death the benevolent wife of the clergyman of the parish called to see if she could render any assistance. After knocking in vain at the front door, she went to the back of the house with fear and trembling. On entering the kitchen, to her dismay she saw the two dogs on the hearth. They appeared, however, to be sensible of what had taken place, for they only lifted up their heads mournfully, looked at the intruder, and resumed their former attitude.

My neighbour, Mr. Penrhyn, has two noble mastiffs of the Lyme breed, which I believe is now nearly extinct. It is probably, however, preserved by Thomas Leigh, Esq. of Lyme Park, in Cheshire, who has also the wild breed of cattle, now only, I believe, found at Lyme Park, and at Chillington, in Yorkshire, the seat of Lord Tankerville. There is a story current at Lyme Park, that some years ago a dog of the breed in question, whilst walking with the steward in the park, took offence at one of the wild bulls, and would instantly have attacked it, but was with difficulty restrained by the steward. The dog returned home, evidently bearing the offence in mind, and the next morning, the steward, seeing him covered with blood, suspected something amiss, and on going into the park, found that not only the bull, but two cows had been worried by him.

A mastiff belonging to a tanner had taken a great dislike to a man, whose business frequently brought him to the house. Being much annoyed at his antipathy and fearful of the consequences, he requested the owner of the dog to endeavour to remove the dislike of the animal to him. This he promised to do, and brought it about in the following manner, by acting on the noble disposition of the dog. Watching his opportunity, he one day, as if by accident, pushed the dog into a well in the yard, in which he allowed it to struggle a considerable time. When the dog seemed to be getting tired, the tanner desired his companion to pull it out, which he did. The animal, on being extricated, after shaking himself, fawned upon his deliverer, as if sensible that he had saved his life, and never molested him again. On the contrary he received him with kindness whenever they met, and often accompanied him a mile or two on his way home.

A personal friend of the writer's, some time since, on a visit at a gentleman's house in the country, was taking a moonlight walk through the shrubbery and pleasure-grounds, when he was startled by a noise behind him; on turning his head, he perceived a large mastiff, which was ordinarily let loose as evening closed, and which had tracked him through the grounds. The dog with a fierce growl roughly seized him; our friend wisely deemed passive obedience and non-resistance the most prudent if not the most courageous part for him to play, and was unceremoniously led back through the grounds to the hall-door; here he was relieved by the master of the house. Subsequently assured that he had no cause to fear, he repeated his walk; the dog was again at his side, but walked quietly with him, and acknowledged in the usual way his words of conciliation. On these instances of sagacity (sagacity of a kind very different from that displayed by the shepherd's dog or the setter) there needs no comment.