A black and tan terrier, belonging to a linen-draper in Swindon, directly the shop was opened in the morning, was in the habit of going to the post-office with his master; the letter bag was put into his mouth, and he carried it home. One morning he took it into his head to precede his master, and go alone. The post-master, on seeing him, felt so certain his owner was at the door, that he delivered the bag to him, with which he ran home while his master was seeking him. From that time it became his regular duty to fetch the letters daily.
Sir Walter Scott tells us of the remarkable comprehension of human language evinced by his Bull-dog terrier, called Camp. He understood so many words, that Sir Walter felt convinced an intercourse with dumb animals might be enlarged. Camp once, bit the baker, for which Sir Walter beat him, and, at the same time, explained the enormity of the offence; after which, to the last moment of his life, he never heard the least allusion to the story, in whatever voice or tone it might be mentioned, without getting up and retiring into the darkest corner of the room, with great appearance of distress. Then, if it were said that the baker had been well paid, or that the baker was not hurt after all, Camp came forward, capered, barked, and rejoiced. When he was unable, towards the end of his life, to attend his master in his rides, he watched for his return, and the servant used to tell him Sir Walter was coming down the hill, or through the moor, Camp never mistook him, although he did not use any gesture, but either went out at the front to ascend the hills, or at the back to get at the moor side.
These anecdotes, taken from many others concerning Terriers, cannot be better ended than by some concerning a Russian terrier. As I once was acquainted with an inimitable monkey, named Jack, so do I now know an inimitable dog of that name. He is small, white, with some quaintly placed dark brown spots on the body and head; his eyes are of the most brilliant black, he is slightly and genteelly made, and he has a quantity of curling hair on his back only, which gives him a peculiar appearance. He formerly resided in Ireland with the mother of his present possessor, to whom he evinced that devoted attachment which ought to be named canine, for there is nothing equal to it in any other animal. This lady was ill for some years before her death, and could only take exercise in an invalid chair. When she was ready to go out, she would say, "Now, Jack, I am ready for the chair," upon which he immediately scampered off to the stables, placed himself in the vehicle, and was dragged to the door. Then he got out till his mistress was placed comfortably in it, when he seated himself at her feet. If they went through the garden, the carriage was stopped at Jack's favourite beds of flowers, for he had a remarkable fancy, like a cat, to enjoy their perfume; mignonette being always a source of delight. On one occasion, in Dublin, he was lost; sought for, and met in the arms of a policeman, who was carrying him home. The man said he had actually delivered himself up at the station, for he came into the room where several men were seated, looked at one of them, as he stood at his feet, and quietly suffered his collar to be inspected and himself taken up and carried.
He entered the drawing-room where his two mistresses were sitting, and made signs for one of them to go to the door. She did not heed his request; upon which he pulled her gown with his teeth, and she, thinking he must have some extraordinary reason for it, then followed him; the instant she opened the door wide, he squatted himself in the middle of the mat placed there, thumping the floor with his tail; before him lay six dead rats, which he had killed and brought to be seen, they being laid out, rat fashion, in due form, and he displaying his prowess with great pleasure. Jack went to Torquay with his young mistress, where he was one day lying in the balcony, enjoying the sea breezes. An Italian came past with his organ, and a monkey; he stopped before Jack, and suffered his monkey to climb the pillars which supported the balcony and enter. Jack never tamely suffered the intrusion of strangers; but such a stranger as this was beyond all patience; he seized him, shook him; the poor monkey squealed, the Italian bawled out for his companion, and Jack's mistress rushed to the window and rescued the unfortunate creature, just time enough to save him from Jack's final gripe. Some days after this, Jack was walking out with his mistress's brother, who was a great invalid, when the sound of an organ saluted his ears. In one moment he came up with it, seized the accompanying monkey between his teeth, and dashed past his astonished master, with the hind legs of the creature hanging out on one side, and the feathered hat on the other. In vain did the gentleman call; Jack either did not hear or did not heed; he took his way to the stable where his master's horse was kept, and would have immolated the monkey, had not the grooms there saved him from death. The invalid and the owner of the monkey arrived at the same moment, each delighted at the safety of the poor victim. Jack, to this day, cannot endure an organ or a monkey.
The Pariah dogs of India, when wild, occupy the woods in numerous packs; they have long backs, pointed ears, sharp noses, and fringed tails. Their fondness for human beings is very remarkable; and they will attach themselves to a stranger, and not suffer any ill-usage to keep them at a distance. One was known to follow a gentleman travelling in a palanquin till he dropped from fatigue. There is a minute variety, white, with long silky hair, like a lap dog, and this is trained to carry flambeaux and lanterns. Bishop Heber gives an account of a poor Pariah dog, who followed him during a part of his journey through India. He ordered the cook to give him some scraps, and the animal strongly attached himself to the bishop. When the party were obliged to cross a rapid river, at rather a dangerous ford, the dog was so frightened at the black roaring water, that he sat down by the side and howled piteously, as the bishop went over. He, however, assumed courage to follow; but was again distressed when one of the Sepoys was missing; he ran back to the spot, and howled, returned to the bishop, then back to summon the defaulter, and continued this till the man had rejoined his party.
The bishop relates a story of one of these dogs who, being in search of water, thrust his head into an earthen jar, and could not get it out again; he rushed about in all directions, bellowing and howling in the most fearful manner. The guard sprang to their feet, and stood prepared to encounter an enemy, whose approach they thought was announced by the blast of a war-horn. Halters were broken, and horses and mules pranced over the tent ropes; and it was some minutes before the cause of this confusion was ascertained.
A massive form, arched skull, deep lower jaw, strong legs and neck, semi-hanging ears, truncated tail, and frequent presence of a fifth toe, distinguish the noble Mastiff. They are silent, phlegmatic dogs, conscious of their own strength, seem to consider themselves more as companions than servants, are resolute, and face danger with the utmost self-possession. A cold region, such as the highest ranges of Central Asia, is best adapted to their perfect development, and yet their only wild type is met with in Africa. They are old denizens of Great Britain, and are said to have been brought here before the Romans conquered the country. They are not supposed to have come originally from Africa, but from Thibet, through the north of Europe.
They have been known to conquer lions; and yet, while they possess the most indomitable strength and courage, they are the gentlest of animals, suffering children to sit upon them, pull them roughly, and small dogs to snap and snarl at them. Confinement alone disturbs their temper. They are excellent guardians, and such is their deliberate coolness, that they have been known to walk quietly by the side of a thief without doing him an injury, merely preventing his escape. They will, however, suffer the rogue to go away, if he has not already purloined anything.
It is well known that dogs love to be in a crowd of people, and this is frequently the temptation for them to enter churches. A number of dogs, in a village of Bohemia, had followed this practice, including an English mastiff, belonging to a nobleman who lived there. A magistrate who presided at a Court, observed upon it, and said, in an authoritative voice, "No dogs shall be allowed to go to church, let me not see one there in future." The mastiff was present, and seemed to listen with attention, not without effect, for on the ensuing Sunday, he, rising early, ran barking at the village dogs, took his station near the door of the church, killed the only dog that ventured in, notwithstanding the prohibition; and always posted himself as a sentinel on duty, before the church, but without ever afterwards entering it.
An English gentleman, some time ago, went to some public gardens, at St. Germain, with a large mastiff, who was refused admittance, and the gentleman left him in the care of the bodyguards, who were placed there. The Englishman, some time after he had entered, returned to the gate, and informed the guards that he had lost his watch, telling the sergeant, that if he would permit him to take in the dog, he would soon discover the thief. His request being granted, the gentleman made signs to the dog of what he had lost, who immediately ran about among the company, and traversed the gardens, till at last he laid hold of a man. The gentleman insisted that this person had his watch; and, on being searched, not only his watch, but six others, were discovered in his pockets. What is more remarkable, the dog took his master's watch from the other six, and carried it to him. This is rather an old story, but it is an excellent example of the sagacity of the mastiff.