recall instances of similar feelings in their respective favourites. Dogs are also exceedingly sensitive of jealousy, and many may be persuaded to eat almost anything by being told that the cat will have it if they do not take it; and a dog who had a rival called York, used to growl whenever he heard the name of that city mentioned by any one. In many cases dogs seem to understand perfectly what is said to them; thus, if I say that I am going to take a walk, and intend to take Fairy with me, my little dog jumps up, and begins to wag his tail, though I have not moved from my own seat; but if, on the contrary, even when I am putting on my bonnet, I tell Fairy that he cannot go with me, his tail is tucked in, his head hangs down, and he slinks away to his mat.

In these particulars I believe almost all dogs are alike, but others show marks of what may be called superior intelligence, and sometimes almost of a reasoning faculty. In Mr. Couch's Illustrations of Instinct, a story is told of a dog who was fond of sheep-killing, but who "would pass by his own master's flock, of which it was the guardian, and go a mile or two away, to gratify its craving by slaughtering a lamb in the field of a stranger." This was a very curious circumstance, and seems to imply not only an extraordinary degree of in

telligence, but wonderful self-command on the part of the dog.

Another story is told, in the same work, of a Spanish dog in the West Indies, who was used by the Spaniards to bring back the runaway Indians. "He would select, among two hundred Indians, one who had escaped from the Christians, or who should have been pointed out to him, and would seize him by the arm, and make him come back with him to the camp, or wherever the Christians might be; and if he attempted to resist, or would not come, he tore him to pieces, and did other things which were very remarkable, and worth recording. At midnight, if a prisoner got loose, and were a league distant, it was but to say 'the Indian is gone!' or, 'fetch him!' and away Bezerillo went upon the scent, and brought him back. The tame Indians he knew as well as a man could know them, and never did them hurt; and, among many tame ones, he could distinguish one wild one it seemed as if he had the judgment and intelligence of a man, and that not of a foolish one. Salazar had one day taken an old Indian woman, among other prisoners, after a defeat of the natives, and for no assigned or assignable reason, but in mere wantonness of cruelty, he determined to set this dog upon the poor wretch.

But it was to be made a sport of, a spectacle for the Spaniards, or the Christians, as their contemporary historian and fellow Christian calls them, even while he is relating this story. Salazar gave the woman an old letter, and told her to go with it to the governor at Aymaco. The poor creature went her way joyfully, expecting to be set at liberty when she had performed her errand. The intent was merely to get her away from the rest, that the dog might have a fair field, and the beholders a full sight. Accordingly, when she had proceeded little farther than a stone's throw, Bezerillo was set at her. Hearing him come, the woman threw herself on the ground, and her simple faith in Salazar's intention, and in the animal's sagacity, saved her; for she held out the letter to the dog, and said, 'O, sir dog, sir dog! I am carrying a letter to the lord governor; don't hurt me, dog!' The dog seemed to understand her; and did understand her, in fact, sufficiently to know that she did not look upon herself as a condemned person, and that she implored his mercy; and he came up to her gently, and did her no harm."

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In this case the dog probably judged from the manner of the woman, more than from her words; but there are several other cases on record in which dogs have appeared not only to understand what

has been said to them, but what they have heard other people saying.

Two or three years ago, I had just arrived, with my daughter, at a friend's house in the south of France, and as we ascended the stairs, a little dog flew out of one of the rooms, and began caressing us; this appeared very strange, as we were quite sure the dog had never seen us before; but my friend explained the mystery. "It is an English dog," said she, "and when she hears any one speaking English, she always comes and caresses them like old friends."

Another case was related to me. A dog named Hector, had done something wrong, and his master said to a friend, "I am afraid I must have Hector shot to-morrow." Hector was lying apparently asleep, before the fire, but he looked up at his master with a reproachful expression, when he heard his own name mentioned, and then walked out of the room, into which he never returned. Indeed, his master never saw him again, and never could learn any tidings of him.

Dogs occasionally perform duties that do not properly belong to them; a curious instance of which is given in the anecdote told by Sir Robert Kerr Porter of a Persian greyhound. When Sir Robert was travelling in Persia, his "horsekeeper allowed

a fine spirited animal he was leading, to break away. The horse set off at speed up the hills; and, from the darkness of the night, and the few people I could spare to pursue, I at first despaired of his recovery. But the dog, on the instant he perceived the animal loose, headed him at every turn; and, at length, after a long run, succeeded in catching the end of the halter, and retaining it in his mouth; holding it firm, while the superior strength of the horse dragged him onward; and then, pulling him in his turn, endeavoured to arrest the fugitive's pace during his bounds and sudden freaks; which effort of the dog so far impeded the animal's flight as, at last, to allow one of my servants to seize him."

A remarkable instance of the manner in which dogs recognise their masters by the sense of smell was related in all the French journals in March, 1842. This was the story of Madame Miollet, the wife of a sergeant attached to the African army. She had heard that her husband was ill at the hospital in Algiers, and she left her own home in France to go to nurse him. When she arrived, she was shown into a vast room, in which there were more than a hundred wounded persons huddled together. These poor wretches were so disfigured by their wounds, so emaciated by the