It is possible to train such dogs to all sorts of useful service. In their native country of Newfoundland they do the work of horses, and harnessed to carts or sledges draw heavy loads. They learn to fetch and carry baskets, bundles, and letters, and are quick, reliable messengers.
Perhaps their most striking peculiarity is their fondness for the water; they take to it as naturally as if it were their proper element. They are not only strong swimmers, but also remarkable divers, sometimes keeping their heads under the surface for a considerable time. Nature seems specially to have fitted them for the rescue of the drowning, and in this humane calling they have made a noble record.
Innumerable stories are told of people, accidentally falling from boats, bridges, or piers, who have been brought safely to land by these dog heroes. The dog seizes the person by some part of the clothing, or perhaps by a limb, and with the weight dragging at his mouth, makes his way to the shore. He seems to take great pains to hold the burden as gently as possible, keeping the head above water with great sagacity. Some one has told of seeing a dog rescue a drowning canary, holding it so lightly in his mouth that it was quite uninjured.
Fr. Hanfstaengl, photo. John Andrew & Son, Sc.
A DISTINGUISHED MEMBER OF THE HUMANE SOCIETY
National Gallery, London
It is in his capacity as a life saver that the Newfoundland dog of our picture is represented, called by the pleasant jest of the painter, A Distinguished Member of the Humane Society. Surely no member of the honorable body could be more efficient than he in that good cause. He lies at the end of a stone jetty, his fore paws hanging over its edge a little above water level. Nothing can be seen behind him but the gray sky, with sea gulls flying across: against this background the massive head stands out grandly. He seems to look far out to sea, as if following the course of a distant vessel. A gentle lifting of the ears shows how alert is his attention; he is constantly on duty, ready to spring into the water in an instant.
His attitude shows his great size to full advantage,—the splendid breadth of his breast and the solidity of his flank. The open mouth reveals the powerful jaw. A sense of his strength is deeply impressed upon us. The pose suggests that of a couching lion, and has the same adaptability to sculpture, as we may see by comparing it with the bronze lion of the Nelson monument.
As the dog lies in the full sunlight, the picture is an interesting study in the gradations of light and shadow, or of what in technical phrase is called chiaroscuro. A critic calls our attention to "the painting of the hide, here rigid and there soft, here shining with reflected light, there like down; the masses of the hair, as the dog's habitual motions caused them to grow; the foreshortening of his paws as they hang over the edge of the quarry."[18]
[18] F. G. Stephens.