Robert Merry's Museum, Volumes I-II (1841)

by Various

I do not know that I need to say more at present, than that toucan does not choose to take the trouble of making nests of stems and twigs, like some other birds, but selects his dwelling in the holes of trees, so that he may have a roof to shelter him from the storm—a preference which again marks his civilization.

THE NEWFOUNDLAND DOG.

The Newfoundland Dog.

Of all animals, the dog is most attached to man. His affection is not general, but particular. He does not love all mankind, as a matter of course, for in his natural state he is a wild and savage creature. In Asia, dogs are often outcasts, prowling around cities, and feeding upon offal and dead carcasses. They seem to be, if uncivilized, cousins to the wolf, and near relatives to the hyena. It is in Asia, where the dog is a persecuted, and therefore a skulking kind of animal, that he is the emblem of meanness and cowardice. There, where the people worship power and seem to think little of justice, the lion, a sly, prowling, thieving creature, is the common emblem of courage and greatness.

But here, where the dog is cherished and taken to a home, he seems to have a new character and a redeemed nature. He fixes his heart upon some one, and is ready to run, jump, bark, bite, dig, work or play, to give pleasure to him. He seems to live for his master—his master is his deity. He will obey and defend him while living—he will lie down and die by his master’s grave. It is related of Bonaparte, that one night, after a fight, he was walking by the moonlight over the field of battle, when suddenly a dog sprung out from the cloak beneath which his dead master lay, and then ran howling back to the body, seeming at the same time to ask help for his poor friend, and to seek revenge. Bonaparte was much affected by the scene, and said that few events of his life excited a deeper feeling in his breast than this.

There are at least thirty different kinds of dogs,—some large, some small, some fierce, some gentle, some slender and graceful, some sturdily made and very powerful. There is the lap-dog, with a soft, lustrous eye and silken skin, fit to be the pet of a fine lady—and there is the fierce bull-dog, that will seize a bull by the nose and pin him to the ground. There is the greyhound, that is so swift as to outstrip the deer, and the patient foxhound, that follows reynard with a keen scent, till at last his fleetness and his tricks can avail him nothing, and he surrenders to his fate.

But amid all this variety, the Newfoundland dog is the best fellow. He is, in the first place, the most intelligent, and in the next, he is the most devoted, attached, and faithful. When the people came from Europe to America, they found this fine breed of dogs with the Indians of Newfoundland and the vicinity. They are large, shaggy, webfooted, and almost as fond of the water as the land. They possess great strength, and have a countenance that seems to beam with reason and affection. I give you the portrait of one of these creatures, to prove what I say. There are many pleasant tales of this creature, well authenticated, of which I shall now tell you a few.

One day, as a girl was amusing herself with an infant, at Aston’s Quay, near Carlisle bridge, Dublin, and was sportively toying with the child, it made a sudden spring from her arms, and in an instant fell into the Liffey. The screaming nurse and anxious spectators saw the water close over the child, and conceived that he had sunk to rise no more. A Newfoundland dog, which had been accidentally passing with his master, sprang forward to the wall, and gazed wistfully at the ripple in the water, made by the child’s descent. At the same instant the child reappeared on the surface of the current, and the dog sprang forward to the edge of the water.

Whilst the animal was descending, the child again sunk, and the faithful creature was seen anxiously swimming round and round the spot where it had disappeared. Once more the child rose to the surface; the dog seized him, and with a firm but gentle pressure bore him to land without injury. Meanwhile a gentleman arrived, who, on inquiry into the circumstances of the transaction, exhibited strong marks of sensibility and feeling towards the child, and of admiration for the dog that had rescued him from death.