The Dog

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THE ICELAND DOG.

The head is rounder than that of the northern dogs; the ears partly
erect and partly pendent; and the fur soft and long, especially behind
the fore legs and on the tail. It much resembles the Turkish dog removed
to a colder climate.

This dog is exceedingly useful to the Icelanders while travelling over
the snowy deserts of the north. By a kind of intuition he rarely fails
in choosing the shortest and the safest course. He also is more aware
than his master of the approach of the snow storms; and is a most
valuable ally against the attack of the Polar bear, who, drifted on
masses of ice from the neighbouring continent, often commits
depredations among the cattle, and even attacks human beings. When the
dog is first aware of the neighbourhood of the bear, he sets up a
fearful howl, and men and dogs hasten to hunt down and destroy the
depredator.

The travelling in Iceland is sometimes exceedingly dangerous at the
beginning of the winter. A thin layer of snow covers and conceals some
of the chasms with which that region abounds. Should the traveller fall
into one of them, the dog proves a most useful animal; for he runs
immediately across the snowy waste, and, by his howling, induces the
traveller's friends to hasten to his rescue.

THE TERRIER

The forehead is convex; the eye prominent; the muzzle pointed; the tail
thin and arched; the fur short; the ears of moderate size, half erect,
and usually of a deep-black colour, with a yellow spot over the eyes. It
is an exceedingly useful animal; but not so indispensable an
accompaniment to a pack of fox-hounds as it used to be accounted. Foxes
are not so often unearthed as they formerly were, yet many a day's sport
would be lost without the terrier. Some sportsmen used to have two
terriers accompanying in the pack, one being smaller than the other.
This was a very proper provision; a large terrier might be incapable of
penetrating into the earth, and a small one might permit the escape of
the prey. Many terriers have lost their lives by scratching up the earth
behind them, and thus depriving themselves of all means of retreat.

The coat of the terrier may be either smooth or rough; the smooth-haired
ones are more delicate in appearance, and are somewhat more exposed to
injury or accident; but in courage, sagacity, and strength, there is
very little difference if the dogs are equally well bred. The rough
terrier possibly obtained his shaggy coat from the cur, and the smooth
terrier may derive his from the hound.

The terrier is seldom of much service until he is twelve months old; and
then, incited by natural propensity, or the example of the older ones,
or urged on by the huntsman, he begins to discharge his supposed duty.

An old terrier is brought to the mouth of the earth in which a vixen
fox--a fox with her young ones--has taken up her abode, and is sent in
to worry and drive her out. Some young terriers are brought to the mouth
of the hover, to listen to the process that is going forward within, and
to be excited to the utmost extent of which they are capable. The vixen
is at length driven out, and caught at the mouth of the hole; and the
young ones are suffered to rush in, and worry or destroy their first
prey. They want no after-tuition to prepare them for the discharge of
their duty.

This may be pardoned. It is the most ready way of training the young dog
to his future business; but it is hoped that no reader of this work will
be guilty of the atrocities that are often practised. An old fox, or
badger, is caught, his under jaw is sawn off, and the lower teeth are
forcibly extracted, or broken. A hole is then dug in the earth, or a
barrel is placed large and deep enough to permit a terrier, or perhaps
two of them, to enter. Into this cavity the fox or badger is thrust, and
a terrier rushes after him, and drags him out again. The question to be
ascertained is, how many times in a given period the dog will draw this
poor tortured animal out of the barrel--an exhibition of cruelly which
no one should be able to lay to the charge of any human being. It is a
principle not to be departed from, that wanton and useless barbarity
should never be permitted. The government, to a certain extent, has
interfered, and a noble society has been established to limit, or, if
possible, to prevent the infliction of useless pain.

The terrier is, however, a valuable dog, in the house and the farm. The
stoat, the pole-cat, and the weazel, commit great depredations in the
fields, the barn, and granary; and to a certain extent, the terrier is
employed in chasing them; but it is not often that he has a fair chance
to attack them. He is more frequently used in combating the rat.

The mischief effected by rats is almost incredible. It has been said
that, in some cases, in the article of corn, these animals consume a
quantity of food equal in value to the rent of the farm. Here the dog is
usefully employed, and in his very element, especially if there is a
cross of the bull-dog about him.

There are some extraordinary accounts of the dexterity, as well as
courage, of the terrier in destroying rats. The feats of a dog called
"Billy" will he long remembered. He was matched to destroy one hundred
large rats in eight and a half minutes. The rats were brought into the
ring in bags, and, as soon as the number was complete, he was put over
the railing. In six minutes and thirty-five seconds they were all
destroyed. In another match he destroyed the same number in six minutes
and thirteen seconds. At length, when he was getting old, and had but
two teeth and one eye left, a wager was laid of thirty sovereigns, by
the owner of a Berkshire bitch, that she would kill fifty rats in less
time than Billy. The old dog killed his fifty in five minutes and six
seconds. The pit was then cleared, and the bitch let in. When she had
killed thirty rats, she was completely exhausted, fell into a fit, and
lay barking and yelping, utterly incapable of completing her task.

The speed of the terrier is very great. One has been known to run six
miles in thirty-two minutes. He needs to be a fleet dog if, with his
comparatively little bulk, he can keep up with the foxhound.

A small breed of 'wry-legged' terriers was once in repute, and, to a
certain degree, is retained for the purpose of hunting rabbits. It
probably originated in some rickety specimens, remarkable for the slow
development of their frame, except in the head, the belly, and the
joints, which enlarge at the expense of the other parts.

THE SCOTCH TERRIER

There is reason to believe that this dog is far older than the English
terrier. There are three varieties: first the common Scotch terrier,
twelve or thirteen inches high; his body muscular and compact--
considerable breadth across the loins--the legs shorter and stouter than
those of the English terriers. The head large in proportion to the size
of the body--the muzzle small and pointed--strong marks of intelligence
in the countenance--warm attachment to his master, and the evident
devotion of every power to the fulfilment of his wishes. The hair is
long and tough, and extending over the whole of the frame. In colour,
they are black or fawn: the white, yellow, or pied are always deficient
in purity of blood.

Another species has nearly the same conformation, but is covered with
longer, more curly, and stouter hair; the legs being apparently, but not
actually, shorter. This kind of dog prevails in the greater part of the
Western Islands of Scotland, and some of them, where the hair has
obtained its full development, are much admired.

Her Majesty had one from Islay, a faithful and affectionate creature,
yet with all the spirit and determination that belongs to his breed. The
writer of this account had occasion to operate on this poor fellow, who
had been bitten under somewhat suspicious circumstances. He submitted
without a cry or a struggle, and seemed to be perfectly aware that we
should not put him to pain without having some good purpose in view.

A third species of terrier is of a considerably larger bulk, and three
or four inches taller than either of the others. Its hair is shorter
than that of the other breeds, and is hard and wiry.

THE SHOCK-DOG

is traced by Buffon, but somewhat erroneously, to a mixture of the small
Danish dog and the pug. The head is round, the eyes large, but somewhat
concealed by its long and curly hair, the tail curved and bent forward.
The muzzle resembles that of the pug. It is of small size, and is used
in this country and on the Continent as a lap-dog. It is very properly
described by the author of "The Field Book" as a useless little animal,
seeming to possess no other quality than that of a faithful attachment
to his mistress.

THE ARTOIS DOG

with his short, flat muzzle, is a produce of the shock-dog and the pug.
He has nothing peculiar to recommend him.

THE ANDALUSIAN, OR ALICANT DOG,

has the short muzzle of the pug with the long hair of the spaniel.

THE EGYPTIAN AND BARBARY DOG,

according to Cuvier, has a very thick and round head, the ears erect at
the base, large and movable, and carried horizontally, the skin nearly
naked, and black or dark flesh-colour, with large patches of brown. A
sub-variety has a kind of mane behind the head, formed of long stiff
hairs.

Buffon imagines that the shepherd's dog--transported to different
climates, and acquiring different habits--was the ancestor of the
various species with which almost every country abounds; but whence they
originally came it is impossible to say. They vary in their size, their
colour, their attitude, their usual exterior, and their strangely
different interior construction. Transported into various climates, they
are necessarily submitted to the influence of heat and cold, and of food
more or less abundant and more or less suitable to their natural
organization; but the reason or the derivation of these differences of
structure it is not always easy to explain.

[Footnote 1: Brown's 'Biographical Sketches', p. 425.]

* * * * *

CHAPTER V.

THE GOOD QUALITIES OF THE DOG; THE SENSE OF SMELL; INTELLIGENCE; MORAL
QUALITIES; DOG-CARTS; CROPPING; TAILING; BREAKING-IN; DOG-PITS;
DOG-STEALING.

In our history of the different breeds of the dog we have seen enough to
induce us to admire and love him. His courage, his fidelity, and the
degree in which he often devotes every power that he possesses to our
service, are circumstances that we can never forget nor overlook. His
very foibles occasionally attach him to us. We may select a pointer for
the pureness of his blood and the perfection of his education. He
transgresses in the field. We call him to us; we scold him well;
perchance, we chastise him. He lies motionless and dumb at our feet. The
punishment being over, he gets up, and, by some significant gesture,
acknowledges his consciousness of deserving what he has suffered. The
writer operated on a pointer bitch for an enlarged cancerous tumour,
accompanied by much inflammation and pain in the surrounding parts. A
word or two of kindness and of caution were all that were necessary,
although, in order to prevent accidents, she had been bound securely.
The flesh quivered as the knife pursued its course--a moan or two
escaped her, but yet she did not struggle; and her first act, after all
was over, was to lick the operator's hand.

From the combination of various causes, the history of no animal is more
interesting than that of the dog. First, his intimate association with
man, not only as a valuable protector, but as a constant and faithful
companion throughout all the vicissitudes of life. Secondly, from his
natural endowments, not consisting in the exquisite delicacy of one
individual sense--not merely combining memory with reflection--but
possessing qualities of the mind that stagger us in the contemplation of
them, and which we can alone account for in the gradation existing in
that wonderful system which, by different links of one vast chain,
extends from the first to the last of all things, until it forms a
perfect whole on the wonderful confines of the spiritual and material
world.

We here quote the beautiful account of Sir Walter Scott and his dogs, as
described by Henry Hallam:

"But looking towards the grassy mound
Where calm the Douglass chieftains lie,
Who, living, quiet never found,
I straightway learnt a lesson high;

For there an old man sat serene,
And well I knew that thoughtful mien
Of him whose early lyre had thrown
O'er mouldering walls the magic of its tone.

It was a comfort, too, to see
Those dogs that from him ne'er would rove,
And always eyed him reverently,
With glances of depending love.
They know not of the eminence
Which marks him to my reasoning sense,
They know but that he is a man,
And still to them is kind, and glads them all he can

And hence their quiet looks confiding;
Hence grateful instincts seated deep
By whose strong bond, were ill betiding,
They'd lose their own, his life to keep.
What joy to watch in lower creature
Such dawning of a moral nature,
And how (the rule all things obey)
They look to a higher mind to be their law and stay!"

The subject of the intellectual and moral qualities of the inferior
animals is one highly interesting and somewhat misunderstood--urged
perhaps to a ridiculous extent by some persons, yet altogether neglected
by others who have no feeling for any but themselves.

Anatomists have compared the relative bulk of the brain in different
animals, and the result is not a little interesting. In man the weight
of the brain amounts on the average to 1-30th part of the body. In the
Newfoundland dog it does not amount to 1-60th part, or to 1-100th part
in the poodle and barbet, and not to more than 1-300th part in the
ferocious and stupid bull-dog.

When the brain is cut, it is found to be composed of two substances,
essentially different in construction and function--the cortical and the
medullary. The first is small in quantity, and principally concerned in
the food and reproduction of the animal, and the cineritious in a great
measure the register of the mind. Brute strength seems to be the
character of the former, and superior intelligence of the latter. There
is, comparing bulk with bulk, less of the medullary substance in the
horse than in the ox--and in the dog than in the horse--and they are
characterized as the sluggish ox, the intelligent horse, and the
intellectual and companionable dog.

From the medullary substance proceed certain cords or prolongations,
termed 'nerves', by which the animal is enabled to receive impressions
from surrounding objects and to connect himself with them, and also to
possess many pleasurable or painful sensations. One of them is spread
over the membrane of the nose, and gives the sense of smell; another
expands on the back of the eye, and the faculty of sight is gained; a
third goes to the internal structure of the ear and the animal is
conscious of sound. Other nerves, proceeding to different parts, give
the faculty of motion, while an equally important one bestows the power
of feeling. One division, springing from a prolongation of the brain,
and yet within the skull, wanders to different parts of the frame, for
important purposes connected with respiration or breathing. The act of
breathing is essential to life, and were it to cease, the animal would
die.

There are other nerves--the sympathetic--so called from their union and
sympathy with all the others, and identified with life itself. They
proceed from a small ganglion or enlargement in the upper part of the
neck, or from a collection of minute ganglia within the abdomen. They go
to the heart, and it beats; and to the stomach, and it digests. They
form a net-work round each vessel, and the frame is nourished and built
up. They are destitute of sensation, and they are perfectly beyond the
control of the will.

We have been accustomed, and properly, to regard the nervous system, or
that portion of it which is connected with animal life--that which
renders us conscious of surrounding objects and susceptible of pleasure
and of pain--as the source of intellectual power and moral feeling. It
is so with ourselves. All our knowledge is derived from our perception
of things around as. A certain impression is made on the outward fibres
of a sensitive nerve. That impression, in some mysterious way, is
conveyed to the brain; and there it is received--registered--stored--and
compared; there its connections are traced and its consequences
appreciated; and thence a variety of interesting impressions are
conveyed, and due use is made of them.

THE SENSE OF SMELL

Our subject--the intellectual and moral feelings of brutes, and the
mechanism on which they depend--may be divided into two parts, the
portion that receives and conveys, and that which stores up and compares
and uses the impression.

The portion that receives and conveys is far more developed in the brute
than in the human being. Whatever sense we take, we clearly perceive the
triumph of animal power.

The olfactory nerve in the horse, the dog, the ox, and the swine, is the
largest of all the cerebral nerves, and has much greater comparative
bulk in the quadruped than in the human being. The sense of smell,
bearing proportion to the nerve on which it depends, is yet more acute.
In man it is connected with pleasure--in the inferior animals with life.
The relative size of the nerve bears an invariable proportion to the
necessity of an acute sense of smell in the various animals--large in
the horse compared with the olfactory nerve in the human being--larger
in the ox, who is often sent into the fields to shift for
himself--larger still in the swine, whose food is buried under the soil,
or deeply immersed in the filth or refuse,--and still larger in the dog,
the acuteness of whose scent is so connected with our pleasure.

[The disposition to hunt by scent is not peculiar to the setter or
pointer, but in fact is common to all animals; developing itself in
different proportions according to their various physical constructions
and modes of life. The method of finding and pointing at game, now
peculiar to these dogs, and engendered in their progeny through
successive generations, is not the result of any special instinct, that
usually governs the actions of the brute creation--but rather the effect
of individual education and force of habit upon their several ancestors.
This habit of life, engrafted through progressive generations into these
breeds, has become a second nature, and so entirely the property of the
species, that all its members, with but little care on the part of man,
will perform these same actions in the same way, and will ever continue
to exhibit these propensities for hunting, provided opportunities be
offered for indulging them. Nevertheless, as these peculiar
predilections for "'setting or pointing'," as before said, are the
effect of education and habit, the artificial impulse would very soon be
entirely obliterated, if not encouraged in the young dogs of each
generation. This circumstance alone, proves to us the importance of
getting dogs from a well-known good strain, whose ancestors have been
remarkable for their exploits in the field. This necessary precaution
will insure a favourable issue to our troubles, and lessen materially
our labours. In fact young puppies have been frequently known to exhibit
this propensity the first time they have been taken to the field. Some
of these dogs have come under the notice of the writer, who at a few
months old exhibited all the peculiarities of their race; in fact were
"self-broke." These dogs were the progeny of a well-known imported
stock, in the possession of a gentleman who selected them in England.

Although other dogs, and other animals even, have been with great
difficulty and perseverance taught to find and point game, still these
two breeds seem especially adapted by nature, both in their physical and
intellectual construction, for the performance of this particular duty
to man.

The sense of smell is differently developed in different animals; the
olfactory nerve of the dog is larger than any other in the cerebrum,
which peculiarity will at once account for their wonderful powers of
scent.

'Swine', also, have these nerves largely developed; and necessarily so,
as both in a state of nature or half-civilization, the greater portion
of their food is buried under the earth or mingled with the filth and
mire of their sties, and would pass unheeded, if not for the acuteness
of their nasal organs.

In Daniels' "Rural Sports," will be found an interesting account of a
sow having been taught to find and point game of various kinds, and
often having been known to stand on partridges at a distance of forty
yards, which is more than can reasonably be expected of every first-rate
dog. She was not only broke to find and stand game, but hunted with the
dogs, and backed successfully when on a point. This extraordinary animal
evinced great aptness for learning, and afterwards great enthusiasm in
the sport; showing symptoms of pleasure at the sight of a gun, or when
called upon to accompany a party to the field. Her hunting was not
confined to any particular game, but stood equally well on partridges,
pheasants, snipes, rabbits, &c. (See Blaine, part vii, chap, iii, page
792.)

Most of animals instinctively employ the organ of scent to seek out
food, or avert personal danger, in preference to that of sight; but some
depend more upon the latter than the former, either from instinct or the
force of education.

For instance, the greyhound, though equally gifted with the sense of
smell, as that of sight, has been taught to depend upon the one organ to
the entire exclusion of the other, which is quite the reverse of the
setter and pointer; but the wonderful speed of these dogs renders it
quite unnecessary that he should employ the olfactory nerves, as no
animal, however swift, can hope to escape from him in a fair race, when
once near enough to be seen; though there are some that may elude his
grasp by a "'ruse de guerre'" when too hardly pressed. ('Extracted from
our essay in No. 1, vol. xvi, of the "Spirit of the Times.'")--L.]

INTELLIGENCE

We find little mention of insanity in the domesticated animals in any of
our modern authors, whether treating on agriculture, horsemanship, or
veterinary medicine, and yet there are some singular and very
interesting cases of aberration of intellect. The inferior animals are,
to a certain extent, endowed with the same faculties as ourselves. They
are even susceptible of the same moral qualities. Hatred, love, fear,
hope, joy, distress, courage, timidity, jealousy, and many varied
passions influence and agitate them, as they do the human being. The dog
is an illustration of this---the most susceptible to every
impression--approaching the nearest to man in his instincts, and in many
actions that surprise the philosopher, who justly appreciates it.

What eagerness to bite is often displayed by the dog when labouring
under enteritis, and especially by him who has imbibed the poison of
rabies! How singular is the less dangerous malady which induces the
horse and the dog to press unconsciously forward under the influence of
vertigo!--the eagerness with which, when labouring under phrenitis, he
strikes at everything with his foot, or rushes upon it to seize it with
his teeth! A kind of nostalgia is often recognised in that depression
which nothing can dissipate, and the invincible aversion to food, by
means of which many animals perish, who are prevented from returning to
the place where they once lived, and the localities to which they had
been accustomed.

These are circumstances proving that the dog is endowed with
intelligence and with affections like ours; and, if they do not equal
ours, they are of the same character.

With regard to the foundation of intellectual power, viz.: attention,
memory, association, and imagination, the difference between man and
animals is in degree, and not in kind. Thus stands the account,--with
the quadruped as well as the biped,--the impression is made on the mind;
attention fixes it there; memory recurs to it; imagination combines it,
rightly or erroneously, with many other impressions; judgment determines
the value of it, and the conclusions that are to be drawn from it, if
not with logical precision, yet with sufficient accuracy for every
practical purpose.

A bitch, naturally ill-tempered, and that would not suffer a stranger to
touch her, had scirrhous enlargement on one of her teats. As she lay in
the lap of her mistress, an attempt was repeatedly made to examine the
tumour, in spite of many desperate attempts on her part to bite. All at
once, however, something seemed to strike her mind. She whined, wagged
her tail, and sprung from the lap of her mistress to the ground. It was
to crouch at the feet of the surgeon, and to lay herself down and expose
the tumour to his inspection. She submitted to a somewhat painful
examination of it, and to a far more serious operation afterwards. Some
years passed away, and whenever she saw the operator, she testified her
joy and her gratitude in the most expressive and endearing manner.