No one ever drew more legitimate consequence from certain existing premises.

One other story should not be omitted of this noble breed of water-dogs. A vessel was driven on the beach of Lydd, in Kent. The surf was rolling furiously. Eight poor fellows were crying for help, but not a boat could be got off to their assistance. At length a gentleman came on the beach accompanied by his Newfoundland dog: he directed the attention of the animal to the vessel, and put a short stick into his mouth. The intelligent and courageous fellow at once understood his meaning, sprung into the sea, and fought his way through the waves. He could not, however, get close enough to the vessel to deliver that with which he was charged; but the crew understood what was meant, and they made fast a rope to another piece of wood, and threw it towards him. The noble beast dropped his own piece of wood and immediately seized that which had been cast to him, and then, with a degree of strength and determination scarcely credible, — for he was again and again lost under the waves, — he dragged it through the surge and delivered it to his master. A line of communication was thus formed, and every man on board was rescued.

There is, however, a more remarkable fact recorded in the

Penny Magazine.

"During a heavy gale a ship had struck on a rock near the land. The only chance of escape for the shipwrecked was to get a rope ashore; for it was impossible for any boat to live in the sea as it was then running. There were two Newfoundland dogs and a bull-dog on board. One of the Newfoundland dogs was thrown overboard, with a rope thrown round him, and perished in the waves. The second shared a similar fate: but the bull-dog fought his way through that terrible sea, and, arriving safe onshore, rope and all, became the saviour of the crew."

[Some]

of the true Newfoundland dogs have been brought to Europe and have been used as retrievers. They are principally valuable for the fearless manner in which they will penetrate the thickest cover. They are comparatively small, but muscular, strong, and generally black. A larger variety has been bred, and is now perfectly established. He is seldom used as a sporting dog, or for draught, but is admired on account of his stature and beauty, and the different colours with which he is often marked. Perhaps he is not quite so good-natured and manageable as the smaller variety, and yet it is not often that much fault can be found with him on this account.

A noble animal of this kind was presented to the Zoological Society by His Royal Highness Prince Albert. He is a great ornament to the gardens; but he had been somewhat unmanageable, and had done some mischief before he was sent thither.

A portion of Lord Byron's beautiful epitaph on the death of his Newfoundland dog will properly close our account of this animal:

"The poor dog! In life the firmest friend,
The first to welcome, foremost to defend;
Whose honest heart is still his master's own;
Who labours, fights, lives, breathes for him alone."