game was found, when they ran as usual in company.
There was certainly no training of man in this case; yet both were highly educated dogs, and might have learned something from human fellowship, which was directed by instinct to their own purposes. The advantages of canine education are not to be set aside by a few rare instances of this kind. Indeed, when people complain of a dog that it will not obey, does not understand their meaning, and has no sense, depend upon it the animal has been tied up in his youth; has never seen the world so as to adapt himself to it; and, above all, has never been brought under the direct teaching of man. I once had a fine-looking animal of this description. He would neither come nor go at my bidding, did not even know how to get out of the way of danger, and finally made such a fool of himself as to fix his affections upon a cat, which he attempted to follow into all sorts of impossible places, and once did follow by running rapidly up a high ladder to the top of a hay-stack, from which elevated position he was unable to descend without assistance.
We have only to watch the shepherd’s dog to see what early training will do. Instinct, no doubt, does something, but a ready apprehension of its master’s meaning, and a ready obedience in keeping back, as well as chasing, can only be the result of education, und of association on familiar terms with the habits of man. The noble sheep dogs peculiar to the Pyrenees afford a striking example of this. By no means particularly gentle in their own nature, as many travellers can testify, they become, under the direction of the shepherd, the most docile of companions; and though large and lion-like—for they have tawny hair, and black eyes, with a good deal of mane like the lion—may be seen walking patiently behind their master, ready to obey the slightest signal of his lordly will. Their relation to the sheep, too, like that of the shepherd, is of a milder and apparently more benignant nature than with us. The Pyrenean shepherd always walks before his sheep, literally, as well as scripturally, leading them; while the large, noble looking dog guards them on either side, occasionally mixing with the flock, appearing rather to fill the place of an elder brother than an enemy, or an object of terror to the sheep. In this manner, accompanied always by a few goats, which give more of picturesque effect to the group, the shepherd of the Pyrenees may be seen winding his way amongst rock and box-wood up to some height amongst the lofty mountains. Here, especially on the southern side, a rich pasture is found; and here the shepherd and his dog, with the goats and sheep, take up their residence for three or four of the summer months, or until approaching winter drives them downward by slow stages into the valleys below.
If the Cumberland shepherd’s dog is less noble looking than that of the Pyrenees—and he certainly is not half the size—he has a beauty and docility of his own which adds no small amount of interest to the rambles of the traveller through our own lake scenery. It is not long since I had an opportunity of watching the intelligence and obedience, often displayed by these beautiful animals, in one of the wildest mountain solitudes of Cumberland. On a projecting turret of rock, about half-way up the side of a rugged hill, I observed a man standing. It was too distant for me to hear what he said; but I saw by his gestures, for it was a fine clear morning, that he was issuing orders to some subordinate agent in one of the many defiles or valleys which run out from the wide amphitheatre through which we were passing. I could not proceed without ascertaining what the commander of this unseen force could be about; and I soon discovered a black dog, no bigger than a speck in the distance, fetching up some half dozen sheep, which he brought to a particular spot in the open plain; and then, looking out for his master’s signal, set off to penetrate another valley, with a similar object. I waited until the dog had in this manner collected the whole flock; when the shepherd descended from his post of observation, and taking charge of the sheep himself, drove them in one united flock over the brow of a neighbouring hill. As soon as the master took the sheep under his charge, the dog dropped modestly behind. His occupation for a while was gone; and I saw him, all the rest of the way, close to his master’s heels, with head and tail depressed, as if he had shrunk into total insignificance, both in his own and in his master's esteem.
To my mind, it is both instructive and affecting to see in my walks, as one often does, the dog that is left watching by himself in charge of his master’s sheep, or it may be of his coat or wallet. But I seldom see an instance of this kind of docility and faithfulness, without being painfully reminded of a circumstance which impressed me deeply when a child. The narrator knew the man; and the circumstance occurred in a bare, cold, wild district, not far from our residence. A shepherd, or farmer, had the care of a flock of sheep near a small town, where he was tempted to the public-house. The weather was intensely cold, and he could not well have remained with his sheep; so he gave them in charge of his dog, while he went to regale himself by the fire of the little inn. Here he remained so long in a state of drunken insensibility—sheep and everything forgotten—that the poor dog was found dead at his post. The dumb animal had never left his charge. More than two days elapsed without any one coming to relieve guard. He had neither food nor shelter! and yet, faithful to his trust, hungered and died in the act of duty.
One of the most amusing effects produced upon dogs by their association with man, is seen in their increased sensitiveness to ridicule. It is possible they may have a kind of ridicule amongst themselves, and they are no strangers to the sensation of being laughed at. Indeed, it would be difficult to say positively what they have not; for the curious etiquette which prevails amongst them would warrant the belief that they have many social customs and institutions, all of which may be attended, for anything we know to the contrary, by the same sensitiveness which we ourselves experience to praise and blame, or to any other impressions produced by social intercourse. When two dogs meet, there always passes between them