this sort related of the wolf, the lion, and even the cat and the reptile; but in no other animal—in no other, even in the genus Canis—do we find the qualities of the domestic dog, or the slightest approach to them. "To his master he flies with alacrity," says the eloquent Buffon, "and submissively lays at his feet all his courage, strength, and talent. A glance of the eye is sufficient; for he understands the smallest indications of his will. He has all the ardour of friendship, and fidelity and constancy in his affections, which man can have. Neither interest nor desire of revenue can corrupt him, and he has no fear but that of displeasing. He is all zeal and obedience. He speedily forgets ill-usage, or only recollects it to make returning attachment the stronger. He licks the hand which causes him pain, and subdues his anger by submission. The training of the dog seems to have been the first art invented by man, and the fruit of that art was the conquest and peaceable possession of the earth." "Man," says Burns, "is the God of the dog; he knows no other; and see how he worships him. With what reverence he crouches at his feet—with what reverence he looks up to him—with what delight he fawns upon him, and with what cheerful alacrity he obeys him!"
If any of the lower animals bear about them the impress of the Divine hand, it is found in the dog: many others are plainly and decidedly more or less connected with the welfare of the human being; but this connexion and its effects are limited to a few points, or often to one alone. The dog, different, yet the same, in every region, seems to be formed expressly to administer to our comforts and to our pleasure. He displays a versatility, and yet a perfect unity of power and character, which mark him as our destined servant, and, still more, as our companion and friend. Other animals may be brought to a certain degree of familiarity, and may display much affection and gratitude. There was scarcely an animal in the menagerie of the Zoological Society that did not acknowledge the superintendent as his friend; but it was only a casual intercourse, and might be dissolved by a word or look. At the hour of feeding, the brute principle reigned supreme, and the companion of other hours would be sacrificed if he dared to interfere; but the connexion between man and the dog, no lapse of time, no change of circumstances, no infliction of evil can dissolve. We must, therefore, look far beyond the wolf for the prototype of the dog.
Cuvier eloquently states that the dog exhibits the most complete and the most useful conquest that man has made. Each individual is entirely devoted to his master, adopts his manners, distinguishes and defends his property, and remains attached to him even unto death; and all this springing not from mere necessity, or from constraint, but simply from gratitude and true friendship. The swiftness, the strength, and the highly developed power of smelling of the dog, have made him a powerful ally of man against the other animals; and, perhaps, these qualities in the dog were necessary to the establishment of society. It is the only animal that has followed the human being all over the earth.
There is occasionally a friendship existing between dogs resembling that which is found in the human being. The author pledges himself as to the accuracy of the following little anecdote. Two dogs, the property of a gentlemen at Shrewsbury, had been companions for many years, until one of them died of old age. The survivor immediately began to manifest an extraordinary degree of restless anxiety, searching for his old associate in all his former haunts, and refusing every kind of food. He gradually
