The Shepherd: Conducted on the Principles of Universal Analogy …, Volumes 1-3 (Google Books)

ETYNTOLOGY. Etymology throws great light upon antiquity, when used with a skilful hand; but few are sufficiently moderate and unbiassed to make a discreet use of it. Hence, like many other of the sciences, it has incurred considerable odium merely by the imprudence and intemperate zeal of its own friends. The Greeks were most extravagant punsters, and they published these productions of their own ingenuity with all the gravity of Harlequin or Pantaloon himself. Indeed, whether they were serious or in jest it is hard to say. If they were serious, they must have been uncommonly ignorant; if in jest, they were as grave as monkeys with their burlesque. They were uncommonly vain, and seemed to think their own language the most ancient in the world; therefore all their derivations were taken merely from their own tongue, although the words themselves were entirely foreign. Dean Swift has written a most admirable satire upon this etymological foolery, in his essay on the antiquity of the English language, in which he shows that Archimedes is derived from the three English words, “Hark, ye maids;” for this old philosopher during his study was very much annoyed with the gossip of his maid-servants, and he was frequently in the habit of calling out, “Hark, ye maids, can’t you cease your prattle !” And as he was in the habit of prefacing his complaint with the same three words invariably, they gave him the nickname of Archimedes. Alexander the Great also was very fond of roasted eggs, and it was his usual practice, when he re

turned to his tent, to roar out, “All eggs under the grate.” Hence arose the name of Alexander the Great; and hence also arises the proof of the antiquity of the English. The ancient Greeks inform us that there was a set of people with dogs’ heads, and another with no heads at all. Herodotus says so with great gravity, and he is the king of historians; and moreover we are told by Horus Apollo that these dog-headed people were kept by the Egyptians in their temples—that they could read and write—that they died piecemeal, and not all at once like other animals; and that they made water once an hour, or twelve times a-day, and this first suggested the idea of dividing the day into twelve hours. This ridiculous fable, however, is now very easily understood. The Greek word for these monsters is Kunocephaloi. The Kunes were the prophets or priests of the temple, as the Scholiast on Lycophrow informs us; and Cephalos, or Keph, or Caph, the rock on which the temples were built: the whole word in Egyptian referring merely to the inhabitants of the temple on the rocks, so built for astronomical observations. Moreover, the word “ouran,” which means heaven, and refers to celestial observations, is as like as possible the Greek word “ourein,” to make water, from which our word urine is derived. And as these celestial observations were made every hour, and reported or written in the books of the temple, we can easily interpret the ridiculous story of the “Kunocephaloi’ making “ouran” once an hour. “Acephaloi,” which in Greek means “without a head or heads,” in Egyptian has the same meaning as the former. When Diodorus Siculus therefore informs us that at the great solemnity of Isis, the Egyptian goddess, dogs went in front of the procession, it is difficult to determine whether they were really dogs or priests. The prophet saiah also confounds the two; for he says the priests are dumb dogs and greedy dogs; and St. Paul very gravely exhorts the Christians to “Beware of dogs.” It is reported of Socrates that his usual oath was “by the dog and the goose”—a most ridiculous oath for so grave a philosopher; but the words “kuna and chena,” which in Greek mean dog and goose, in Egyptian mean God and the Son of God, which transforms the oath of the philosopher from one of the most vulgar and contemptible to the most sublime and imposing which the human imagination can invent. Plato himself says that the “chema,” or “Cahen,” was an Egyptian god. The Greeks, however, studied no language but their own; they ascribed to every name a Grecian origin, and made up for the apparent inconsistency of their fanciful interpretation by some more fanciful and ridiculous fable. Many of our modern etymologists follow their example; and, by the help of a pretty large bump of comparison, continue to bestow upon words and things an origin as far from the literal truth as east is from the west. Etymology is a useful science when studied with caution and extensive information; but in the hands of a wag, or a bigoted partizan of any particular creed, it becomes nothing else than a burlesque upon literature, and an outrage upon common sense. Our word “sun” is most probably derived from the old Babylonish names “Sam, Son, Zon, Zaon,” which

mean the same thing; but still, the mere resemblance won’t prove it, for, upon the same principle of reasoning, our word “cur,” a dog, is derived from the Oriental word “kur,” a title of the sun. And “curtain” might be easily divided into two words, “cur” and “tin,” which mean an “altar of the sun,” between which and the use of a curtain there is only a very far-fetched resemblance. Chrus and Chrusaor and Chrisna and Christos are all very like each other, and all titles of Deity; but if you merely infer from the resemblance that they are one and the same thing, you may also demonstrate that the sun is only a cur dog, or that a cur dog is the light of the world. But then, you may reply, it is also said of Chrisna he was born of a virgin: so is the sun, to which all these words apply, which is born twice every year in the two equinoxes, the houses of justice. In the vernal equinox, he “rises out of the sea,” or the constellation of the fish, the fish’s belly; in the autumnal equinox, he is born of the virgin; he comes out of the sign Virgo. But when you have discovered this, how far have you got?—have you demonstrated that there was no such being as Christ? Don’t be so hasty: you have only got thus far—that there is a very curious resemblance between things in heaven and things on earth; but, more of this hereafter.

The Republic: A Weekly Journal of Politics and Society, Volume 8 (Google Books)

THE MINER’S STORY.

Have you ever lived in a hole in a hill, any of you? Well. I have ; for months and months. I needn’t tell you why—all prospectors know. I had a mate once—Muffles—Jim Mufties. Jim was a queer fish. He was a little, fat fellow of fifty, with hair and beard as white as the falling snow outside. He was prematurely old and broken. I met him at El Paso in the tavern there ; we drank and talked together; I liked him, for an Ohio man, less oily than most of that sort, and Jim took to me; so we hitched horses for a pull at mining among the mountains of New Mexico, setting off next morning for the Sangre de Cristo. We dug and broke ore on the sides and summits of that giant range clear up to the borders of Colorado, with but small luck and less hope. We even tried a few dodges common to miners. We salted a shaft, blowing dust into the rock a couple of inches with an old navy revolver cut off in the barrel. We came the tobacco game, Jim talking like fun to some tenderfect from Chicago, telling them of the rich free gold lying loose in the bed of the run, while I chewed up a loaded quid as I strained away at the cradle, every now and again squirting some of the yellow grains straight into the sieve. But we were soon found out and threatened with a wire-halter by the respectable sisters. Dishonesty didn’t pay, and we remained poor, when we perforce became honest. We ate bear and jack-rabbit then and mined ore. We had a dug-out at the top of a tall peak, and a trunk of a tree for a door. I had bought a dog, a streaky mongrel, from an adjacent miner, naming the cur Pat after my grandfather (peace to his ashes!) Patrick Maguire, of Pittsburg. Well, Jim hated that dog at first sight, and the dog hated Jim at the first scent. Never did man and beast hate, mutually hate each other, anything like it. And my mate and I grew cool toward one another on account of the animal. “Love me, love my dog ‘ ” said I to Jim one day. • I’ll see both on you darned first l” was in y mate’s surly answer to me—and he meant it. we had been prospecting thus for a couple of years on the crests of the Sangre de Cristo, walking all day, pick in hand and rifle on shoulder for fear of silver-tips and wild-cats, when one night (as black a night as ever I see) as I was getting supper ready over a slow cotton-bough fire, having been the first in from the tramp, I heard a yell like the wild shriek of a terrified woman, and into the room sprang Pat and fell dead flat at my feet. His bowels were cut out as if by a knife. • Curse you, Jim Muffles!” cried I, “I’ll have your heart’s blood for this ” I flung the carcase of my poor pet over the crags to the falls below and waited in anger and impatience for the arrival of my mate. He strode in in an hour and saying, quite unmoved, “How are you, Ches. !” sat down, heavy with fatigue, on the broad bed of blankets and boughs which we shared between us. “Mate,” said I, slow and strong with suppressed rage, “ you’ve done a dirty, mean, unmanly deed this night. Not a bite do you eat, by gracious, until you fight me for killing my pet.” “what do you mean 2″ said he, coolly. “What I say !” I answered, with fury. “Up with your fists and fight if you’re a man, and not a mean, sneaking critter. Or shall we use knives?” “ where is the dog? What’s chanced the dog? What do you mean auyhow 7″ said Jim, natural like. “Th it won’t do,” said I, ” the dog is dead. and you know it.” “I swear,” exclaimed Jim, seeming ruffled by surprise from his serenity, “I don’t know anything of the dog, I never hurt the dog, and I haven’t seen the dog all day.” “Liar,” I retorted, drawing my bear-knife, “I’ll lick you for that lie within an inch of your contemptible life.” “Stop, Ches. Maguire, I’m not a coward, but I swear to you I never harmed a hair of your vile cur’s hide, however I hated him. You’ll repent till your dying day if you touch a hair of my head or force me to hurt you. I take my oath of the truth of my sworn words.” There was something in the tone of the man that stayed my stroke and stilled my passion, hot as it was, and, after staring in his eye for a moment, I sheathed my weapon and turned away with a grunt of only half conviction. In silence we had our supper, and sullenly we slipped into bed and went to sleep. It might have been midnight, when I was awakened by a blast of hot, fetid breath on my face. Instantly I sprang up, saying: “Jim Muffles, none of your murdering tricks on me!” It was as dark as pitch : I could see nothing : but at the sound of my startled voice I felt a sharp wound in my shoulder and a fierce cutting at my forehead. I clawed out with my hands, catching for breath, and fell, with loss of blood, in a swoon.

When I recovered, all was still with a death-like stillness. It was yet pitch dark, and the air chilly with frost. Groping for my tinder-box. I struck a spark and lit the candle. What did I see ? Poor Jim Muffles was indeed innocent of the death of my dog Pat ; nay, the brave hero had generously given up the best thing he had to give—his blessed lifefor the sake of his partner. I wept like a child, for bleeding and torn on the earthern floor, knife in hand and dead and torn and cold, lay my mate, by his side a monstrous mountain-lion in the last paroxysms of agony. As I gazed, the beast ceased to struggle. Both man and lion were stone dead. It was that hungry brute, and not my noble mate, which had torn out the ent rails of the dog ; and Muffles, the gallant miner and my magnanimous defender, had devotedly saved the life of

is angry defamer at the precious price..and penalty of his own,

“A brave fellow !” murmured the soldierly-looking stranger, “ and worthy of a better fate. But your stories are somewhat sad, as I have said. Another pull at the punch, and let us have, if you are quite willing, gentlemen, something in a merrier mood. This is the Christinas season, and the heart should be light and the sririts cheery.”

“Well,” said Jem Harpe, the scout, “I believe I’m equal to a comic story, after I fill my pipe again. But life is most too stern a matter out here in the earnest, serious West for frivolity. However, if it’s Mr. Hickok’s humor to be jolly, here goes and welcome:

Original Poetry, for Young Persons (Google Books)

60 THE LITTLE GIRL who Lost HER w AY.

Then an apple red and sweet,
The dame gave little Bell to eat :
And whispered many a caution kind,
How she in crowded towns, should mind
And keep close to her friends, nor dare
Go after boys, or showmen there.
Scarce they come to market street,
When poor Bell’s mamma they meet,
Wandering frightened up and down
To find her daughter in the town.
To her arms as Bella flies,
Tears are sparkling in her eyes :
“Mamma!” she murmured o’er and o’er,
“I will quit your side no more ”

After that day was not found,
Traversing the market round,
To sell her eggs the good old dame,
Who to the child’s assistance came :
Bell’s mother and her neighbours too,
Buy up her eggs so fresh and new !

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LAURA AND FREDERIC.

You Ng Frederic was a cruel boy
No gentle tenderness had he,

When he could tease or much annoy,
The happiest he seemed to be.

But kind and good is Laura’s breast,
And it would give sweet Laura pain

To soil a butterfly’s gay vest,
Or hurt a worm upon the plain.

And Frederic keeps an ugly cur,
Much like himself, ill-bred and rude,

Such snappish beasts bad boys prefer,
To dogs of grateful, social mood.

Upon the far Newfoundland shore,
That noble animal was bred,

Who licks the hand of Laura o’er,
And pillows on his neck her head.

Wherever spiteful Frederic goes,

. His odious dog is at his side;

To see him other dogs oppose,
And bark and bite, is all his pride.

62 LAURA AND FREDERIC.

Wherever gentle Laura walks,
There does the noble Hector go,

He wags his tail as Laura talks,
And seems her very will to know.

One day malicious Frederic chose,
To set his dog upon some men,

Who drove the spiteful cur with blows,
To his bad master back again.

And as the vile cur whining laid,
They seized young Frederic in their gripe,

And for his ill deeds past, he paid
That day with many a bitter stripe.

When they were gone, with swelling vein,
He snatched a pitchfork from the ground,

And foaming in his rage and pain,
He gave his dog a dreadful wound.

Though dying, and all drenched with gore,
The dog sprung up, and in their strife,

So terribly his master tore,
That worthless Frederic lost his life.

When Laura from the river side,
Seeking some purple flowers to win,

Slipped down into the sparkling tide,
Her noble dog plunged also in.

Her garments in his teeth he caught,
And on the river’s bosom,bore,

Though terrified, unscathed in aught,
His gentle mistress to the shore.

THE LITTLE BOY WHO FRIGHTENED HIS BROTHER.

Two brothers once, quite little boys,
Together lived in joy and peace,

No quarrelling, no boisterous noise
Of theirs, their parents cares increase.

One only fault young Richard had,
In spite of all his friends could say,

Of such bad tricks, this little lad
Would frighten Alfred in his play.

Their parents were one autumn eve,
Together forced from home to go,

But ere their little sons they leave,
On Richard they a charge bestow.

04 THE LITTLE BOY

They bid him of the fire take care,
To go to bed by set of sun,

The supper equally to share,
Nor frighten Alfred for his fun.

Papa, mamma, then both went out,
And quietly the children play,

By turns in house, and garden rout,
And laugh, and talk till close of day.

“We’ll go in doors, dear Richard, now,”
Cried Alfred, “ for the evenings close,

I do not like yon apple bough,
Dear Richard, and the shade it throws ”

And Richard laughed: “What in a fright
At the poor apple tree,” he said,

“Come in, and I will get a light,
Then Alfred we will go to bed.”

While he a candle goes to seek,
Poor Alfred in the parlour dim,

Stood trembling at the light so weak,
Whose shadows so much frightened him.

Richard had found the light he sought,
When glancing at the kitchen door,

Forest and Stream, Volume 45 (Google Books)

DARWIN ON THE DOG.

In many of his writings Darwin refers to the dog in an interesting and instructive manner, both in respect to the qualities absolutely possessed by the dog and in respect to others as they relate to those of different species.

The full force of Darwin’s remarks on the dog cannot be gathered from the quotations detached from their context. There is a mass of testimony of which the reference to the dog is but a trifling detail. Many of his remarks have a direct bearing on the possession of reason by the dog and on his power to communicate with his fellows through the medium of language, matters which have been treated in Forest And Stream recently. The following excerpts are taken from the chapter on mental powers in his famous work, “The Descent of Man:”

“Desor has remarked that no animal voluntarily imitates an action performed by man, until in the ascending scale we come to monkeys, which are well known to be ridiculous mockers. Animals, however, sometimes imitate each other’s actions; thus, two species of wolves, which had been reared by dogs, learned to bark, as does sometimes the jackal; but whether this can be called voluntary imitation is another question. Birds imitate the songs of their parents and sometimes of other birds, and parrots are notorious imitators of any sound which they often hear. Dureau de la Malie gives an account of a dog reared by a cat who learned to imitate the well-known action of a cat licking her paws and thus washing her ears and face; this was witnessed by the celebrated naturalist Audubon. I have received several confirmatory accounts; in one of these a dog had not been suckled by a cat, but had been brought up with one, together with kittens, and bad thus acquired the above habit, which he ever afterward practiced during his life of thirteen years. Dureau de la Malle’s dog likew se learned from the .kitten to play with a ball by rolling it about with his forepaws and springing on it. A correspondent assures me that a cat in his house used to put her paws into jugs of milk having too narrow a mouth for ber head. A kitten of this cat soon learned the same trick, and practiced it ever afterward whenever there was an opportunity.

”The parents of many animals, trusting to the principle of imitation in their young, and more especially to their instinctive or inherited tendencies, may be said to educate them. We see this when a cat brings a live mouse to her kittens; and Dureau de la Malle has given a curious account of his observations on hawks which taught their young dexterity as well as judgment of distances by first dropping through the air dead mice and sparrows, whicn the young generally failed to catch, and then bringing them live birds and letting them loose.

“Hardly any faculty is more important for the intellectual progress of man than attention. Animals clearly manifest this power, as when a cat watches by a hole and prepares to spring on its prey. Wild animals sometimes become so absorbed when thus engaged that they may be easily approached. Mr. Bar tie tt has given me a curious proof how variable this faculty is in monkeys. A man who trains monkeys to act in plays used to purchase common kinds from the Zoological Society at £5 for each; but he offered to give double the price if he might keep t^ree or four of them for a few-days in order to select one. When asked how he could possibly learn so soon whether a particular monkey would turn out a good actor, he answered that it all depended on their power of attention. If when he was talking and explaining anything to a monkey its attention was easily distracted, as by a fly on the wall or other trifling subject, the case was hopeless. If he tried by punishment to make an inattentive monkey act, it turned sulky. On the other hand, a monkey that carefully attended to him could always be trained.

“It is almost superfluous to state that animals have excellent memories for persons and places. A baboon at the Cape of Good Hope, as I have b en informed by Sir Andrew Smith, recognized him with joy after an absence of nine months. I had a dog who was savage and averse to all strangers, and I purposely tried his memory after an absence of five years and two days. I went near the stable where he lived and shouted to him in my old manner; he showed no joy, but instantly followed me out walking and obeyed me exactly as if I had parted with him only half an hour before. A train of old associations, dormant during five years, had thus been instantaneously awakened in his mind. Even ants, as P. Huber has clearly shown, recognized their fellow ants belonging to the same community after an absence of four months. Animals can certainly by some means judge of the intervals of time between recurrent events.

“The imagination is one of the highest prerogatives of man. By this faculty he writes former images and ideas independently of the will and thus creates brilliant and novel results. A poet, as Jean Paul Richter remarks, ‘who must reflect whether he shall make a character say yes or no—to the devil with him, he is only a stupid corpse.’ Dreaming gives us the best notion of this power; as Jean Paul again says, ‘The dream is an involuntary art of poetry.’ The value of the products of our imagination depends of course on the number, accuracy and clearness of our impressions, on our judgment and taste in selecting or rejecting the involuntary combinations, and to a certain extent on our power of voluntarily combining them. As dogs, cats, horses and probably all the higher animals, even birds, have vivid dreams, and this is shown by their movements and the sounds uttered, we must admit that they have some power of imagination. There must be something special which causes dogs to howl in the night, and especially during moonlight, in that remarkable and melancholy manner called baying. All dogs do not do so; according to Houzeau, they do not then look at the moon, but at some fixed point near the horizon. Houzeau thinks that their imaginations are disturbed by the vague outlines of the surrounding objects, and conjure up before them fantastic images; if this be so, their feelings may almost be called superstitious.

“Of all the faculties of the human mind it will, I presume, be admitted that reason stands at the summit. Only a few persons now dispute that animals possess some power of reasoning. Animals may constantly be seen to pause, deliberate and resolve. It is a significant fact that the more the habits of any particular animal are studied by a naturalist, the more he attributes to eason and the less to unlearned instincts. In future

chapters we shall see that some animals extremely low in the scale apparently display a certain amount of reason. No doubt it is often difficult to distinguish between the power of reason and that of instinct. For instance, Dr. Hayes, in his work on the ‘Open Polar Sea,’ repeatedly remarks that his dogs, instead of continuing,to draw the sledges in a compact body, diverged and separated when they came to thin ice, so that their weight might be more evenly distributed. This was often the first warning which the travelers received that the ice was becoming thin and dangerous. Now, did the dogs act thus from the experience of each individual or from the example of the older and wiser dogs, or from an inherited habit—that is, from instinct? This instinct may possibly have arisen since the time, long ago, when dogs were first employed by the natives in drawing sledges; or the Arctic wolves, the parent stock of the Esquimau dog, may have acquired an instinct impelling them not to attack their prey in a close pack when on thin ice.

• ••••••

“The following cases relate to dogs: Mr. Colquhoun winged two wild ducks which fell on the further side of a stream; his retriever tried to bring over both at once, but could not succeed; she then, though never before known to ruffle a feather, deliberately killed one, brought over the other and returned for the dead bird. Colonel Hutchinson relates that two partridges were shot at once, one being killed, the other wounded; the latter ran away and was caught by the retriever, who, on her return, came across the dead bird; ‘she stopped, evidently greatly puzzled, and after one or two trials, finding she could not take it up without permitting the escape of the winged bird, she considered a moment, then deliberately murdered it by giving it a severe crunch, and afterward brought away both together. This was the only known instance of her having wilfully injured any game.’ Here we have reason, though not quite perfect, for the retriever might have brought the wounded bird first and then returned for the dead one, as in the case of the two wild ducks. I give the two above cases as resting on the evidence of two independent witnesses, and because in both instances the retrievers after deliberation broke through a habit which is inherited by them (that of killing the game retrieved), and because they show how strong their reasoning faculty must have been to overcome a fixed habit.

*******

“Our domestic dogs are descended from wolves and jackals, and though they may not have gained in cunning, and may have lost in wariness and suspicion, yet they have progressed in certain moral qualities, such as affection, trustworthiness, temper and probably in general intelligence.

• ••••••

“Language.—This faculty has justly been considered as one of the chief distinctions between man and the lower animals. But man, as a highly competent judge, Archbishop Whately remarks, ‘is not the only animal that can make use of language to express what is passing in his mind, and can understand, more or less, what is so expressed by another.’ In Paraguay the Cebus azarce when excited utters at least six distinct sounds, which excite in other monkeys similar emotions. The movements of the features and gestures of monkeys are understood by us, and they partly understand ours, as Rugger and others declare. It is a more remarkable fact that the dog, since being domesticated, has learned to bark in at least four or five distinct tones. Although barking is a new art, no doubt the wild parent-species of the dog expressed their feelings by cries of various kinds. With the domesticated dog we have the bark of eagerness, as in the chase; that of anger as well as growling; the yelp or howl of despair, as when shut up; the baying at night; the bark of joy, as when starting on a walk with his master; and the very distinct one of demand or supplication, as when wishing for a door or window to be opened. According to Houzeau, who paid particular attention to the subject, the domestic fowl utters at least a dozen significant sounds.

*******

“The feeling of religious devotion is a highly complex one, consisting of love, complete submission to an exalted and mysterous superior, a strong sense of dependence, fear, reverence, gratitude, hope for the future and perhaps other elements. No being could feel so complex an emotion until advanced in his intellectual and moral faculties to at least a moderately high level. Nevertheless, we see some distinct approach to this state of mind in the deep love of a dog for his master, associated with complete submission, some fear and perhaps other feelings. The behavior-of a dog who returned to his master after an absence, and, as I may add, of a .monkey to his beloved keeper, is widely different from that toward their fellows. In the latter case the transports of joy appear to be somewhat less, and the sense of equality is shown in every action. Prof. Braubach goes so far as to maintain that a dog looks on his master as a god. *******

“Sociability.—Animals of many kinds are social; we find some distinct species living together; for example, some American monkeys and united flocks of rooks, jackdaws and starlings. Man shows the same feeling in the strong love for the dog, which the dog returns with interest. Everyone must have noticed how miserable horses, dogs, sheep, etc., are when separated from their companions, and what strong mutual affection the two former kinds at least show on their reunion. It is curious to speculate on the feelings of a dog who will rest peacefully for hours in a room with his master or any of the family, without the least notice being taken of him; but if left for a Bhort time by himself, barks or howls dismally. * * * The most common mutual service of the higher animals is to warn one another of danger by means of the united senses of all. Every sportsman knows, as Dr. Jaeger remarks, how difficult it is to approach animals in a herd or troop. Wild horses and cattle do not, I believe, make any danger signal; but the attitude of any one of them who first discovers an enemy warns the others. RabbitB stamp loudly on the ground with their hindfeet as a signal; sheep and chamois do the same with their forefeet, uttering likewise a whistle. Many birds and some mammals post sentinels, which in the case of seals are said generally to be females. The leader of a troop of monkeys acts as the sentinel, and^ utters cries expressive both of danger and of safety. * * * Wolves and some other beasts of prey hunt in

packs, and aid one another in attacking their victims. Pelicans fish in concert. The Hamadryas baboons turn over stones to find insects, etc., and when they come to a large one, as many as can stand around turn it over together and share the booty. Social animals mutually defend each other. Bull bisons in North America-, when there is danger, drive the cows and calves into the middle of the herd, while they defend the outside. In Abyssinia, Brehm encountered a great troop of baboons who were crossing a valley; some had already ascended the opposite mountain and some were still in the valley; the latter were attacked by the dogs, but the old males immediately hurried down from the rocks, and with mouths widely opened roared so fearfully that the dogs quickly drew back. They were again encouraged to the attack; but by this time all the baboons had reascended the heights, excepting a young one about six months old, who, loudly calling for aid, climbed on a block of rock and was surrounded. Now one of the largest males, a true hero, came down again from the mountain, slowly went to the • young one, coaxed him, and triumphantly led him away—the dogs being too much astonished to make an attack. * * * Many animals, however, certainly sympathize with each other’s distress or danger. This is the case even with birds. Captain Stansbury found on a salt lake in Utah an old and completely blind pelican, which was very fat and must have been well fed for a long time by his companions. Mr. Blyth, as he informs me, saw Indian crows feed two or three of their companions which were blind; and I have heard of an analagous case with the domestic cock. We may, if we choose, call these actions instinctive; but such cases are much too rare for the development of any special instinct. I have myself seen a dog who never passed a cat who lay sick in a basket and was a great friend of his without giving her a few licks with his tongue, the surest sign of kind feeling in a dog. It must be called sympathy that leads a courageous dog to fly at any one who strikes his master, as he certainly will. I saw a person pretend to beat a lady who had a very timid little dog on her lap, and the trial had never been made before; the little creature instantly jumped away, but after the pretended beating was over it was really pathetic to see how perseveringly he tried to lick his mistress’s face and comfort her. Brehm states that when a baboon in confinement was pursued to be punished, the others tried to protect him. * * * Besides love and sympathy, animals exhibit other qualities connected with the social instincts which in us would be called moral; and I agree with Agassiz that dogs possess something very like a conscience Dogs possess some powar of self-command, and this does not appear to be wholly the result of fear. As Braubach remarks, they will refrain from stealing food in the absence of the master. They have long been accepted as the very type of fidelity and obedience.”

ALOPECIA AREATA.

Editor Forest and Stream:

“Alopecia areata is a disease of the pillary follicles, characterized by the sudden occurrence of general and asymmetrical or partial and asymmetrical baldness, the latter exhibited in distinctly circumscribed smooth patches, which are in typical cases entirely destitute of hair.”

The symptoms of this disease, according to Dr. Jas. Nevins Hyde, A. M., M. D., in his work on diseases of the skin, may be at its outset accompanied by symptoms of ill health, such as malaria, loss of appetite, mal-nutrition, etc.

In the three cases I have met with in canine practice none of the above symptoms have been present, and in fact to all appearance the animals have been in excellent health when presented to me for treatment, and in cases 1 and 2 the cisease manifested itself by the sudden and complete loss of hair in round or nearly circular patches, and presented the appearance of having been scalded, so completely bare were the parts affected.

Hyde describes it in human practice as presenting roundish, or oval, or irregularly shaped patches, varying in size from a small coin upward, and states that they may be so numerous as to disfigure the entire scalp, and while they may touch at the borders when thus numerous they can scarcely be said to coalesce, as the line of demarcation is recognizable; and he states that in point of abnormal sensations, temperature or signs of disease of the surface from which the hairs have fallen as a rule show complete absence of symptoms, and that the skin when the disease is in complete evolution is usually normal to the touch, but occasionally ana>mic, thinned and more movable in the affected parts than in the parts not touched by the disease. The latter or amtmic condition I have _ found in cases presented to me, but whether from the dis’ease or from the effect of previous unsuccessful medication I could not say.

The cause of the disease seems to be obscure. According to all authorities it is not transmitted by heredity or contagion, and yet it is claimed it is not due to a parasite, and the neurotic explanation is now generally accepted as fait accumulate bearing on its etiology. This 1 can hardly reconcile myself to believe is the cause of the disease in the dog, and while I cannot give a probable, satisfactory explanation of its cause, I do from observation believe it is parasitic; and further, that while authorities claim it is not infectious, I am inclined to believe it is, from the fact that such history as I could obtain regarding the cases showed that, while it appeared in two or three patches simultaneously, it invariably affected adjoining parts in the course of a few weeks, which were caused I believe by subcutaneous infection.

Pathology.—The anatomical lesions which produce alopecia have not been recognized. The hairs fallen from the surface, according to Hyde, when examined by a microscope, appear to be atrophied in the bulb and shaft, and he states that no parasite can be discovered in uncomplicated cases; but that he had in one instance detected spores and mycliaof the trichopyton in the hairs. His diagnosis alopecia areata is distinguishable from ringworm, and favors by the suddenness of its onset the absence of all stumps of hairs, scales, crusts or evidences of irritation in the parts involved, and the complete baldness and smoothness.

Treatment.—According to the author above referred to he states that one must necessarily view with distrust all treatment for a disease which, while continuing for months or years, usually terminates in spontaneous recovery, and in the meantime bids defiance to each and every therapeutic measure. Nevertheless persistent and hopeful management in even apparently desperate cases is occasionally rewarded by such brilliant consequences that, however slight may be the belief in the treatment employed, it deserves recognition. He prescribes such remedies as the following, either alone or in combination: Camphor, cantharides, carbolic acid, croton oil, tinct. capsicum, etc., in the form of stimulating lotions applied with friction to tha parts affected, all of which should recommend themselves to the practitioner or party having the disease under treatment. My own treatment, while it has proved eminently satisfactory so far, I should like to hear of it being used by others, and their success reported. It is as follows:

Case No. 1.—A small black and tan terrier was affected with patches the size of hen’s eggs on the shoulder, back, rump, one side and under neck; had been so for six months, and everything in the way of mange cure tried; dog ordered washed thoroughly and ono patch painted thoroughly with cantharidal collodion, two or three applications until blistering was produced; after puncturing the blister andgapplying vaseline as an emollient, a second place was treated the same, and so on, a patch being blistered every three or four days until all had been treated, when a wash composed of alcohol, 1 pint, balsam Peru, 2oz., was applied alternately with a dressing of crude petroleum. This was used every three or four days and a cure was effected in between three and four months. The only internal treatment employed was occasional small doses of quinine as a tonic.

No. 2 was a large dog of the Newfoundland species. The disease made its appearance simultaneously on his back and head. So sudden did it come that the owner himself declared that some servant had poured boiling water on the dog, and only for the lack of any soreness previous t< > the loss of hair or at the time I was called, I confess I would have been most inclined to concide with him. This case was treated same as No. 1; while it did not make its appearance in any new places, it was quite stubborn in its amenability to treatment, being fully six months before the patch on the skull was restored to its normal condition. I would say that in this case I also used rum sulp. lgr., ferri sulp. lgr., arsenic acid ^i/gr., given in pill three times a day.

Case No. 8 is now under treatment. He is a black, corded poodle about five months old, in apparently good health otherwise. He is affected in five places: each side, on back, on neck and on the throat well up toward the jaws. This dog was purchased in New York, and the seller stated that it had been scalded with hot water, but that as it was a long-haired dog nb one would see it. I was called, as they wished to see if possibly something could not be done to permit the growth of the hair in the spots so called. In examining him, I found more spots affected than they had seen, and after calling their attention to the fact that it was noxt to impossible for the dog to get accidentally scalded so high up under the neck, I suggested that it was from disease, and took it for treatment. One of the most eminent physicians in the State and a man of almost national reputation has interested himself in the case on account of its rarity. He pronounces it a typical case of the disease, and is watching the effects of treatment preparatory to reporting it in the medical press. .albert.

POINTS AND FLUSHES.

Puppies and Training.

The manner in which many people care for puppies, as compared with the high expectations which they have concerning their puppies’ mental and physical development, are so antagonistic that they are sources of wonderment to those who give the matter rational thought. Many puppies and dogs are kept in confinement, or, what is worse, on a chain. If under restraint on a chain, the puppy or dog acquires a habit of standing at the extreme length of it, pulling it taut. This strained position, elbows out and neck set hard in the collar, the whole body leaning forward and resting against the collar, soon becomes habitual, and then he stands out of Bhape when not on chain. The puppy grows up with light andf badly formed bone, elbow out, and, from constant fretting and irritation, with a most ill-favored countenance. The scowl which comes from tugging at the end of a chain, from anxiety to be released, and from the irritation of such confinement, in time becomes permanently set and mars the dog’s expression. For his beBt development and health, the dog requires freedom.

Any man, if confined to his room with nothing to read and no one to give him any information, would consider himself unjustly treated if he were expected to learn worldly ways and worldly knowledge under such circumstances. The puppy cannot learn when confined. He learns only by direct experience. Unlike man he can gain no knowledge from the speech of others or from writings. Cut off his powers of observation and the source of all knowledge is cut off from him. Confine him, his physical development is impaired. The dog thrives only when he has sufficient liberty. The knowledge which man teaches him is but little compared to the vast knowledge which he acquires from his own observation and perception. Information does not come to him by instinct. If it were so the dog, if kept in confinement all his life, would have an equal knowledge with the one which has its liberty. Everyone who has owned dogs knows how essential experience is to them. The city dog in the country for the first time is in a new world. He chases sheep at first sight and all kinds of fowl are alike his prey. A frog is a source of quizzical wonder and careful investigation, while a butterfly affords delight. Yet the country dog in town for the first time has far more complexities to encounter and many dangers to learn and guard against. The strange noises of the city are terrifying to him; the crowds of people cut off his view of his master, and if a corner is turned he is lost.

Only by experience can the dog learn the problem of living. Give him his liberty and he will gain his own knowledge of every-day life, he will grow up healthy and vigorous and his temper will be sweet and even. Inaction and seclusion have the same effects on both men and dogs —undeveloped minds and bodies.

Dog Laws.

There is no doubt but what in any community which has sufficient age and interests to establish itself permanently the ownership of dogs must be so regulated as to conform to the requirements of the public good, and the

increase and liberty of homeless and ownerless cur dogs must be restricted to such numbers as are harmless to the community. Nearly all cities have provided legal and humane means for the capture and disposition or destruction of such dogs as are harmful or offensive to them. Their capture is effected with as little tumult and demonstration as possible. The laws are directed toward freeing the community of a nuisance in a dignified and orderly manner, by efforts which are made with a commonplace, every-day regularity the year round. The dogs which are valueless or ownerless are privately destroyed. There is no publicity, no sensation. The public mind is thus not brutalized and degraded by the sights of pursuit and bloodshed on the streets; innocent onlookers are not in danger of losing life or limb from the reckless shooting of the official killers; the peace of the community is not disturbed nor is its business suspended to witness a gory sensation, and sensible discrimination is observed in saving the valuable well-bred dog from the death inflicted on the homeless or vicious cur. When a policeman with pistol in hand, followed by an excited crowd, is in pursuit of a dog, he is very apt to have in mind the dramatic effect and his own egotistical personality quite as much as the simple matter of ridding the community of homeless dogs. The mob, when once excited by the pursuit, deBires to see blood regardless of the merits of the case.

It is strange that at this year of civilization a city can be found where such open brutality and senseless, erratic methods prevail as those adopted by the citizens of Elizabeth, N. J., if the press accounts of them be true. It is pleasing, on the other hand, to note that a part at least of the daily press can discuss the matter in a sensibl manner, free from the exaggerations and sensationae features which it deems so necessary in treating of any event connected with the violent death of a dog or dogs.

Touching on the recent killing of dogs at Elizabeth, N. J., which in its details reads more like a description of an annual battue for the edification of the police, the Sunday Call, Easton, Pa., has the following very sensible editorial under the caption, “Which are the Brutes?”

“Which are the brutes, the officials or the dogs? Elizabeth, N. J., is making its annual raid against dogs, and its authorities have within a few days butchered over 1001 dogs that have appeared to be not within the letter of their dog law. A dog found on the street without a collar and license tag, or a muzzle, is shot without ado by any policeman. It does not signify whether the dog is registered or not. If by any accident he appears without his paraphernalia he is shot. This butchering is carried on by the instruction of the Mayor. Many valuable dogs have been butchered whose owners have endeavored not to transgress the dog laws, and much hot blood is the result. New Jersey within the last decade has proclaimed more bad dogs and more epidemics of rabies than the rest of the earth has exhibited since the creation. Her dog laws are brutal, and the sundry crusades in her towns have been as brutal as they are senseless. The muzzling law in hot weather, when a dog needs water and his open-mouthed respiration, which stands him in lieu of the perspiration of other animals, is brutal, and the law which allows officers to kill dogs indiscriminately is brutal. Summer dog laws are mainly directed against the fancied danger of hydrophobia, one of the rarest of diseases, the authenticated cases of it usually occurring in winter, which being the fact muzzling in summer is as unnecessary as it is brutal. There seemingly should be mental resource in New Jersey, if not in Elizabeth, sufficient to make sensible dog laws. The registration and taxation of dogs are not objectionable. Muzzles are needless at any season as a safeguard against rabies. Vicious dogs are barely worth considering, as any neighborhood will protect itself against such dogs. But whatever dog laws Elizabeth or any other town may see fit to enact, the principle should prevail that punishment should first be visited on the owner of the dog, and not death upon the innocent dog. The covert dog poisoner ranks among men as a Bkulking coward, as well Cm brute. And the official wholesale butchery of dogs in Elizabeth ranks those who are responsible for it as brutes in the estimation of all humane persons.”

The hot weather seems to have less effect on the poor dogs than it does on the more intelligent biped. The ignorance and imaginary fears of the people, with a love of the sensational superadded, are the causes of much cruelty to the dog.

Nevertheless the killing of dogs, as practiced with such offensive publicity and brutality by the police of Elizabeth, cannot justly be blamed on them. The Mayor, with the hot weather ideas which he unfairly attributes to the dogs, should be muzzled politically when the next election takes place, regardless of his political faith.

The Marvelous.

There is constantly manifested by the daily press, and the papers specially devoted to the dog and gun are not free from the evil, a disposition to color any dog story with tinges of the marvelous, or fantastical, or even the supernatural. The common test of reasonable action or possible or accidental happening is not seasoned properly for the news writer or his readers. It must be made extraordinary or sensational.

A dog meets a death in a manner out of the ordinary and forthwith it is heralded to the world as an act of suicide. It does not matter that the writers of such trash cannot possibly know of the dog’s intentions; such absence of knowledge does not affect in the least the fulness and firmness of their assertions. A dog has a fit in the street; a cry of mad dog is raised; the frantic efforts of the dog while afflicted or his dazed efforts to escape while recovering are all perverted into furious and ferocious onslaughts, in the relation of the circumstance after it is all past. A dog performs some acts which he was taught, and forthwith it is discovered that he inherited a knowledge of how to perform them. There never was a better time than the present for the kennel and daily press and dog owners of the country to be governed by the rules of common sense in treating of dogs and their doings. The fantastic, the wonderful and the supernatural have no more place in the phenomena of dog life than they have in the life of any other organic beings. B. Waters.

Mr. E. M. Oldham will have the general management of the kennels of Spratts Patent, on the retirement of Mr. John Brett, which, takes place in a short time. Mr. Oldham will have the’ management of the kennel matters in addition to the other important interests which he cares for so efficiently and popularly.

The American Universal Cyclopædia: A Complete Library of …, Volume 5 (Google Books)

DOESBORGH (Drususburgt), a t. in the Netherlands, province of Gelderland, lies 11 m. e.n.e. from Arnhem, on the right bank of the Yssel. It was formerly fortified, but the walls have been broken down, planted with trees, and formed into pleasant promenades. An intrenched camp has been constructed on the n.e. side, between the Yssel and Old Yssel, which here unite. The streets are broad, and many of the houses handsome. There are several benevolent institutions, a grammar-school, boarding-school for boys and girls, and good public schools. The trade is considerable. Ship-building, bookrinting, the making of eau de Cologne, preparing mustard, etc., are carried on. Pop. 77, 4,517. DOFFER is that part of a carding-machine which takes the cotton from the cylinder when carded. See CARDING. DOG, Canis, a genus of digitigrade (q.v.) carnivorous (q.v.) quadrupeds, which, as defined by Linnaeus, included all that now form the family canidae (q.v.), and also hyenas. in the genus as now restricted, wolves and jackals are generally included b naturalists, along with those animals to which alone the name dog is popularly applied, and a distinctive character of principal importance is found in the pupil of the eye, which is always round—contracting circularly, whilst in foxes it assumes the form of a section of a lens when contracted. The present article is limited to dogs in the common acceptation of the term, wolves and jackals being the subjects of separate articles; and only remarks relative to dogs in general will here find a place, many of the particular kinds being sufficiently important to be separately noticed. At the very outset we encounter one of the most perplexing and difficult questions in natural history, as to the number of species of dog, and the origin of the domestic dog; two questions in appearance, but rather one in reality, and one on which the opinions of the most eminent naturalists are very much divided. According to some, all domestic dogs are to be regarded as of one species; and as in the case of some other valuable domestic animals, that species is not certainly known to exist in a truly wild state, all the wild dogs which must be admitted to belong to the same species being viewed as the offspring of domestic dogs which have returned to a wild state, and in which, however, it is supposed that the original type or characteristics of the species, modified by domestication, have in a great measure reappeared. According to others, there are numerous species of dog, originally distinct, which have been domesticated Dodwell. 35 Dog.

by the inhabitants of different countries, but which, however, are very nearly related not only in their physical characters but in their dispositions and in some of their rincipal instincts, and which were capable of intermixing, not perhaps indiscriminately, but within certain limits, and so as to produce new races. By some who hold the first of these opinions, it is further maintained that the wolf and the dog are one species, and that all domestic dogs are derived from the wolf; whilst others advocate the claims of the jackal to be regarded as their original parent and type. By some of those who hold the species to be numerous, it is supposed not improbable that the blood of wolves and of jackals may be mixed in some of the domestic races with that of the original dogs. It is impossible for us to do more than state these different views, and a few of the principal arguments by which they are supported. It is admitted on all hands, that there is great diversity among the different kinds of domestic dogs, many distinct races having long existed, which #. not only in size and other physical characters, but to a notable extent also in dispositions and instincts; it is further admitted that there appear to be no definite limits to the possible intermixture of these races with each other. So great is the diversity of physical characters, that naturalists of the greatest eminence almost acknowledge themselves incapable of pointing out any that are common to all dogs, and yet distinguish them all from the different species of wolves and jackals; and in fact, the recurred tail, not apparently a character of the first importance, is named by Cuvier himself as the most certain and unvarying specific distinction. The obliquity of the eyes of wolves is also contrasted with the more forward direction of those of dogs, which is accounted for—in favor of the theory of wolfish origin—by the supposition that it results from “the constant habit, for many successive #”. of looking forwards to their master, and obeying his voice.”—Bell’s British Quadrupeds. This, on the other side, is treated with ridicule; it is certainly a transition from the region of observation and ascertained fact to that of mere theory and conjecture. In size, dogs differ so widely that one is not as large as the lisad of another; the difference in form of body, head, or limbs, is almost equally great between the Newfoundland dog or the mastiff and the greyhound. The gradations, however, from one form or character to another, render it impossible to draw a fixed limit. In some races of dog, the hind-feet as well as the forefeet have five toes, instead of four, which is more common; but this has not been much insisted on as a round of specific distinction. Greater value ought perhaps to be attached to the want in some, as the dholes (q.v.) of India, of the second tubercular tooth in the lower jaw; the hairiness of the soles of the feet of some is perhaps also not unimportant; and in favor of the opinion that domestic dogs have originated from an intermixture of several species, it has been urged that the number of teats in the female varies, and that there is sometimes even a difference between the number on one side and on the other, which has never been observed to be the case in wild dogs, and in them the number in the same kind is always uniform. Some of these points, however, have not received the investigation necessary to a confident determination of the measure of importance which ought to be assigned to them. It seems to have been too hastily taken for granted, in favor of the opinion that there is only one species of dog, that all the wild races, even the dholes and the dingo, have sprung from domestic progenitors. There is certainly no evidence of this; and the fact that wild races exist, exhibiting marked diversities of character, in countries widely remote and of very different climates, is referred to with confidence on the other side, as affording at least a strong presumption in favor of the supposition that man has, in different countries, domesticated the species which he found there. We do not yet know enough of the amount and limits of the changes which circumstances and climate may produce, to warrant any confident conclusions on that ground. And if we were to adopt the views of those who ascribe least to such causes, we might yet demand them to show why, although from certain original types no mixed race can originate, there may not yet be other original types capable of such combination, or why the limits must be held equally impassable between all that were framed by an original act of creation, That there was only one original pair of the human race, may be held, without our of necessity holding that there was only one original pair of dogs. But to this consideration due place has, perhaps, scarcely been given. That the common fox—or any species of fox—is a parent of any race of dogs, is not the opinion of any naturalist. Some dogs have a somewhat fox-like appearance, and indeed it is now generally admitted that the dog and fox will breed together, but as it has not been proved that the individuals of the cross will breed together, this fact does not warrant the assertion that the dog and fox belong to the same species. Instances of commixture between the dog and wolf have occurred in greater numbers, and without the compulsion of confinement, but in this case, too, the only recognized proof of identity of species—namely, the permanent fertility of the progeny—is wanting. In favor of the specific identity of the dog and wolf, one of the strongest arguments is drawn from the equality of the period of gestation—63 days. But it may be remarked that an inequality .# the period would have afforded a much stronger argument on the other side. Against the identity of the dog and wolf, the difference of disposition has been strongly urged. In reply, it is shown by well-authenticated instances that the wolf is

og. T #hane. 36 yery capable of that attachment to man which so remarkably characterizes the dog, There is greater value, perhaps, in the argument of col. Hamilton Smith, that “if domestic dogs were merely wolves modified by the influence of man’s wants, surely the curs of Mohammedan states, refused domestic care, and only tolerated in Asiatic cities in the opacity of scavengers, would long since have resumed some of the characters of the wolf.” Buffon’s notion, that the shepherd dog is the original type of the whole species, from which all dogs are derived, is merely fanciful, and his endeavor to support it by a comparative view of the different kinds, only exhibits a certain amount of ingenuity, The shepherd’s dog is one of the kinds of dog having greatest development of brain, but it is still greater in the spaniel. The skulls of dogs, however, neither exhibit very marked distinctions when compared with each other, nor when compared with those of wolves and jackals. It is universally believed that the diversity of color exhibited by many dogs is a result of domestication, as it is neither found in those which may be supposed to exist in a state of original wildness, nor in those wild races which are certainly known to be the progeny of domestic dogs, a return to o of coloring being apparently one of the most speedy consequences of a return to wildness. Black, reddish-brown, and white, the uniform colors observed in wild dogs, are, however, the colors which chiefly appear mixed in domestic races. Pendulous ears are generally regarded as another result of domestication in dogs, as in rabbits; and it is certain that the wild races known have erect and pointed ears; but no wild race has been discovered at all corresponding to the mastiff in some of its other most notable characters, particularly the shortness of the muzzle, and depth of the chops, and it has therefore been conjectured that this, and kindred races may have derived their origin from some wild dog of the interior of Asia, which has not yet come under the notice of any scientific observer. The dog has been a domestic animal from a very early period. The earliest allusions to it are in the books of Moses, but they indeed correspond with the dislike and contempt still commonly entertained for it by many of the nations of southern Asia. By Homer, however, it is very differently mentioned; and “there is not a modern story of the kind which can surpass the affecting, simplicity with which the poor o: dying recognition of his long-lost master is related by one who wrote, probably, not less than 2,700 years ago.” The sculptures of Nineveh, and the hieroglyphics of Egypt, attest the very early domestication of the dog, and the existence of races similar to some of those which exist at the present day; and the high value attached to it by many nations is further attested by the place assigned to it, or its image, as emblematic of the attributes which they ascribed to their gods. We do not now set so high a value on the dog, in consideration of mere usefulness to man, as on some of the other domestic animals; yet to the sava it is o the most important of all, and some have supposed that by its aid the . jugation of other animals may have been first accomplished. Cuvier makes the stron assertion, that the dog “is the most complete, the most singular, and the most usefu conquest ever made by man.” The dog, far more than any other animal, becomes a humble friend and companion of man, often seeming actually to know and sympathize with the joys and sorrows of his master; and on this account it is, that he is alike “the Paolo minion of royalty, and the half-starved partaker of the beggar’s crust.” he uses to which the dog is applied are numerous, and correspond, in some measure, not only with distinct physical characters, but with remarkably distinct instincts of different breeds. Thus, whilst in some countries dogs are chiefly employed as beasts of draught, particularly for drawing sledges in the frozen regions of the north, and in other countries chiefly for the chase, the exquisite scent of some kinds, and the remarkable fleetness of others, variously recommending them for this use, we find them also rendering important services in the care of sheep and other cattle, and endowed with hereditary instincts wonderfully fitted for this purpose, and we find them, with like adaptation of instinct, lo valuable in watching and protecting the abodes and properties of their masters. . Not the least interesting .#: employments to which the dog has been devoted by man, is that of leading about the blind, which is often done with an intelligent and affectionate solicitude highly worthy of admiration. Anecdotes, illustrating not only the instincts, but the intelligence and affection of dogs, are familiar to every one, and form one of the most pleasing parts of many a book of natural history. , Attractive to children, they are worthy of all the consideration which they can receive from the most philosophic mind: Volumes have been filled, and more volumes might easily be filled, with anecdotes well authenticated, and well worthy of preservation. he dog produces usually from six to ten young ones at a birth. They are born blind, open their eyes about the tenth or twelfth day, attain their full growth in about two years, seldom live more than twelve or fifteen years, and almost never more than twenty. No satisfactory classification of the different kinds of dog has ever been made. What some naturalists regard as types of species, others pronounce to be mere mongrel races. Nor can any principle of arrangement be found in form, roughness or smooth

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ness of fur, or other such character, which will not associate kinds that are in other respects widely dissimilar, and separate some that are nearly allied. Col. Hamilton Smith arranges domestic dogs in six groups or sections: 1. “The wolf dogs,” including the Siberian dog, Esquimaux dog, Iceland dog, Newfoundland dog, Nootka dog, sheep dog, great wolf dog, great St. Bernard dog, Pomeranian dog, etc. , 2. “The watch and cattle dogs,” including the German boar-hound, Danish dog, matin, dog of the North American Indians, etc. 3. “The greyhounds,” including the Brinjaree dog, different kinds of greyhound, Irish hound, lurcher, Egyptian street dog, etc. 4. “The hounds,” including the bloodhound, old southern hound, staghound, foxuound, harrier, beagle, pointer, setter, Spaniel, springer, cocker, Blenheim dog, water dog or poodle, etc. 5. “The cur dogs,” including the terrier and its allies. 6. “The mastiffs,” including different kinds of mastiff, the bull dog, pug dog, etc. Col. H. Smith does not include in any of these groups the dholes, dingo, etc., which he even separates from the genus cants.-Mr. fift. arranges dogs in three great groups, “indicated by the least variable part of their osteological structure, cranial development.” 1. Including the Irish wolf dog, highland deerhound, all kinds of greyhounds, and the tiger hound, characterized by convergent parietal bones, an elongated muzzle, and high and slender form. 2. Including the great Dane, the French matin, the pariah of India, the bloodhound, staghound, foxhound, harrier, beagle, pointers, terriers, turnspit, Newfoundland dog, Labrador dog, Pomeranian dog, Esquimaux dog, Siberian dog, Iceland dog, shepherd’s dog, etc., characterized by parallel parietal bones, and generally by much acuteness of smell. 3. Including mastiffs, the great St. Bernard #. bull dog, pug dog, etc., characterized by sensibly divergent parietal bones, bulk of body, robust structure, and combative propensities.

DOG (in law). The keeping of vicious or destructive dogs, or other animals, except under proper precautions, is illegal; and the proprietor is liable for the damage which they occasion in all cases in which it cannot be clearly shown that the fault lay with the party injured. Even before the injury occurs, it is competent to enforce measures of precaution. If a man, have a dog which he knows to be of a savage nature, and addicted to bite, and he allow it to go in a frequented place without being muzzled or otherwise guarded so as to prevent it from committing injury, he may be indicted in England as for a common nuisance. . If the dog be of a ferocious kind, as a mastiff, it has been held that he must be muzzled (1 Russ. 303); and it will be no defense in an action of damages against the master, that the person injured trod on the dog’s toes, for he would not have trodden on them if they had not been there (3 Car. and P. 138). The harboring of a dog about one’s premises, or allowing him to resort there, will warrant indictment (M’Hone and Wood, 5 C. and P. 2). If a dog known to his proprietor to have previously bitten a sheep, be retained by him, the proprietor will be liable to all subsequent injuries even to other animals, as, e.g., a horse. (Burn’s Justice of the Peace, vol. ii. p. 333). In Scotland, a warrant may be obtained, on proof of vicious practices and danger to the public, either from the sheriff or the justices, on a summary complaint, to have a dog secured or slain, and the owner found liable in expenses. The complaint may be at the instance either of the fiscal or of a private party, with or without the fiscal’s concurrence. An interdict may be granted against the D. going loose

** the discussion of the question as to whether or not he ought to be killed.

ki. ocal police acts contain provisions as to shutting up or muzzling dogs during the prevalence of weather likely to produce hydrophobia; and where such do not exist, the subject may be dealt with by the magistrate at common law. Formerly, the common law of England held that it was not larceny to steal any of the baser animals, in which class all dogs, except those of value, were included. ut by 7 and 8 Geo. IV. c. 29, dog-stealing was declared to be an offense punishable by fine. This act was repealed, and new regulations of a more stringent kind made by 8 and 9 Vict. c. 47. By that enactment dog-stealing is a misdemeanor, punishable, on summary conviction, for the first offense, by six months’ imprisonment and hard labor, or fine not exceeding £20 beyond the value of the dog. The second offense is an indictable one, punishable by fine or imprisonment and hard labor not exceeding eighteen months, or both. Similar punishment is provided for persons found in possession of dogs or dogs-skins, knowin them to have been stolen. A D. going into a neighbor’s field does not afford groun for an action of trespass unless he does mischief; and even then the person who kills him in certain circumstances, may be liable in damages (2 Marsh. 584). The use of dogs for !. of draught was prohibited under a penalty by 2 and 3 Vict. c. 47, which is explained by 17 and 18 Vict. c. 60, s. 2. See ANIMALs, CRUELTY to.

Taz on Dogs.-The duty charged on every D. above the age of six months is 5s., and shepherds’ dogs are not exempt. Until recently, the duty on every D. was 12s. The maximum charge for any number of hounds was £39 12s.; of greyhounds, £9. Any D. kept wholly for the care of sheep or cattle, if not a greyhound, hound, pointer, setting-dog, spaniel, lurcher, or terrier, was exempt.

DOG’BANE, Apocynum, a genus of plants of the natural order apocynaceae, having bell-shaped flowers, no style, and the fruit a long linear follicle. Some of the species are shrubby, some herbaceous; some extend into colder climates than is usual for plants of this order. The D. of North America (A. androsae-mifolium), a perennial herbaceous

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plant, about 4 ft. high, with smooth stem, much milky juice, smooth ovate leaves, and whitish rose-colored flowers, growing in open barren places from Georgia to Canada, is valued for the medicinal properties of the bark of its root, which is emetic, diaphoretic, and in small doses tonic. The root of CANADIAN HEMP (A. cannabinum), a plant noticed on another account in the article Apocynaceae, possesses similar properties, and is frequently used in the United States.

D00-DAYS. See CANICULAR DAYS.

DOG DISTEMPER, a kind of violent catarrh, common among dogs, especially when young, producing running at the eyes and nose, and a dry cough, followed by wasting of flesh and loss of strength, and sometimes by inflammation of the lungs and dysentery. The usual remedies are laxatives, emetics, and occasional bleeding. Astringents are useful in diarrhea, and fits may be modified by anodynes and warm baths.

D0G-DRAW. An apparent deprehension of an offender against venison in the forest. Dog-draw is where any man hath stricken or wounded a wild beast by shooting with a cross-bow, long-bow, or otherwise, and is found with a hound, or other dog drawing after him to receive the same.—Cowel’s Interpreter,

The Critical Review, Or, Annals of Literature (Google Books)

POETICAL.

-The Dog Tax, in Verse. Addressed to the Self-appointed Chancellor of the Exchequer. i,to. is. Low. 1796. Mr. Dent is humourously lashed in these lines as the self-appointed chancellor of the exchequer, who wished to tax the poor cottager’s

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ger’s dog, which has been rescued by the humanity of the parliament. We should have been better pJeased, had the author continued in the humourous vein. His introduction is of considerable promise—

‘Whereas evils and dangers both serious and great
Have got to a pitch so alarming of late,
And the hydrophobia has spread far and near,
That the poor don’t like water so well as strong beer,
And the rich will drink wine, though so damnably dear;
And the dogs of the cottage so furious are grown,
They gnaw iron and steel as they would a beef bone.
(Mind—the dogs of the cottage—for those of the court
Only pick chicken bones and nice things of that fort.)
They bite sheep, pigs, and oxen, to such a degree,
We have barking ragout, and stark mad fricasee.
An alderman fears to eat fish, let me tell ye,
Lest hard roe and soft roe should fight in his belly.
Sheep’s head, pluck, and lights, each vile cur so confounds,
That the ‘squire can’t get vi’tals enough for his hounds.
Now all this amounts to a clear demonstration
That the curs of the poor are the bane of the nation,
And o’erwhelm us with discord, disease, and starvation

p. 5.

A Paraphrase on Gray’s Elegy, written on the unfortunate Catastrophe of the late Mr. Henry Weston, who -was executed for Forgery hefare Newgate, July 6, 1796. By a Gentleman. 4/9, zs. Tiffin. 1796.

* All you who visit the unhonour’d dead

In contemplation of their future state;
In pity censure not the lives they led,

Which brought them to an ignominious fate.” r. 13.

This paraphrase, the author informs us, was written without an intention of being published; but he was prevailed upon, at the request of several of his friends, to offer it to the world. The specimen above will (how the judgment of those friends; and the line in Italics, the author’s intention, which was to palliate offences for which no excuse can be offered. The effect of this work would, therefore, be of the immoral kind, if the poetry had any attractions. There was nothing in Weston’s cafe to claim more than ordinary pity. He was young, and his manners might have been those of a gentleman: but his crimes were those of deliberation. He had loqg been in the practice of defrauding others, with, the most unfeeling cunning and caution j and the life he led deserved the severest censure.

Mirth: A Miscellany of Wit and Humor, Issues 1-12 (Google Books)

arge permanent expenses, your friend would like to get known and become successful.” “Just so. He’d want a lot o’ folks to come and see ‘im afore he talked o’ settin’ up is carriage.” “Well, the young lady I have mentioned to you as–as,” and here the charming girl looked timorously aside—“as having taken the curious resolution of marrying no one but an Englishman has a very large circle of acquaintances. Her family by the mother’s side is in a certain way connected with some of the best people in France.” “Oh, well, if they came to the ‘ouse,” said John Robinson, “my friend would very soon set up is carriage and keep ‘is ‘unters, and ‘ave is hopera-box, and everythink to follow. Only ‘is wife’s friends would have to make it pay wery well indeed sust.” “I am afraid that so much gaiety would really be almost too exhausting,” observed the young lady. “Oh, the lady wouldn’t ‘ave much to do. There ‘d be a servant to do the cleanin’, yer know.” “Why, of course there would ! you are ‘ ” “The lady ‘d ‘ave nothing to do but cut a sandvidge now and then.” “Very good, very good, indeed,” cried Célestine, with a laugh. “And draw a glass of beer when the others was busy.” “You are too funny” ” “And make a few pipe-lights.” “You are determined to make me die with laughing.” “And talk to the gents over the counter.” “That is really an exquisitely comical way of putting it !” exclaimed the young lady, wiping the tears from her eyes. “You mean talk to her guests over the table.” “No, there ‘d be a bar. It would be a sort

How droll

of a cross between a English Bar and a French Café.” “What would 2* inquired Célestine, beginning to look a little surprised. “Why the little establishment we’ve been talkin’ about, in course.” The young lady’s face grew suddenly rigid, and she seemed to be preparing to faint. “You have been talking to me all this time,” she began in hard, dry accents, “about—” “About the quiet little public ‘ouse where I should be master an’ you’d be missus. There, get along wi’ yer, you knows all about it !” And John Robinson, able to contain himself no longer, darted his finger into the young lady’s side and gave such a terrifying, spluttering, cracking squeak that a cat, which was on the point of creeping in by the open door, bounded away under the impression that the air was filled with boots and hat-brushes. “O mama l’ cried Célestine, with a piercing scream, flinging up her arms and trying the back of her chair to the utmost. Her mother and the young man with the linen bounded to her side. Célestine selected the gentleman to recline upon. o “O Adolphe l’ she whispered, arranging the hair at the back of her head previous to reposing it on the young man’s shirt front. “Why did you leave me?” “Forgive me, my life, my love . ” breathed the youth in the convulsive accents of overmastering passion. “I am going to die,” softly sighed the maiden. “Not yet, my own, my very own “gasped the youth very low down in his throat. “Wait till we are married.” “I will try,” murmured the lady, and her fair arms wreathed like serpents round as much of his beauteous head as could be got at over his abundant collar. “Bill,” observed John Robinson to William Jones, both of thern appearing somewhat scandalised, “they ought to ‘ave told us as the young lady was subject to fits; and, then, when I’m married I don’t want no Adolphes hangin’ about the premises.” “Jack,” replied William Jones, “we’d better tell ’em we’ll call again another day.” And having taken a respectful adieu of their hostess, who seemed a little perplexed with what had occurred, they retired as precipitately as the cat. Once in the street, William Jones, laying his hand on his friend’s shoulder, said : “Jack, you’ve ‘ad a narrow escape.” “Yes, Bill,” replied John Robinson ; “it couldn’t ‘ave bin a werry quiet little pub with ‘er, would it?”

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And our master believes all attorneys are thieves, For he’s just at a case had a shy– Which he lost;-no, I don’t think I quite like the law.” “Well, my boy, p’raps a doctor you’d be ; It would look very well just above your night bell To behold A. Fitzbooby, M.D.”

“No, Papa, I don’t think I a doctor should make— I always shirk swallowing pills, And some one has told me the patients all take Such a time in discharging their bills; For the doctor’s paid last—butcher, baker, come first.” “Well, my boy, p’raps you’re right; and I See You’ve a turn for theology—good—and you thirst A respectable parson to be.”

“No, I don’t think, Papa, that the pulpit’s my sphere, And the church is in such a condition With squabbling and haggling—on how much a year Can a curate keep up his position ? Excuse me, I can’t quite—” “My boy, quantum suff— You’ve replied, and with sense, too, my dear; It’s an age of mechanic improvements, and —well— Shall we make you a great engineer : *

“No, Papa, I don’t think I should flourish at that; I’m no Stephenson, Boulton, or Watt.” “You’ll excuse me, my boy, but for less than all this Out of temper I often have ot.

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I am doing my best, but you’re awkward to
please—
Come—the army—expensive, of course;
But I’ll e’en stretch a point and allow you a
Sunn
To keep you, and servant, and horse.”

“No, I think, dear Papa, I’m not quite of the stuff Of which great soldier heroes are made ; If my nose bleeds I faint, and King James hadn’t more Of a horror than I of a blade. In a fight I should run—” “Well, my boy, p’raps you would. As to fly would most cowardly be, What say to the navy—you couldn’t run there— Come, Augustus, what say to the sea 2″

“No, Papa, I regret that I never get wet
In the least without catching a cold;
And the thoughts of the ocean my stomach
upset,
And the sea’s rather deep, I’ve been told.”
“Augustus, my temper is one, I’ll be bound,
That’s much better than one out of three ;
But, Hang it ! Confound it ! You obstinate
hound !
What the deuce ARE you going to be * *

“Well, I’ve made up my mind, and a
CLOWN’S—that I find
Is the only profession I’ll choose ;
And I don’t care a pin to be bright harlequin,
And the pantaloon’s part I’d refuse.
But a CLOWN–what’s the matter, papa
Oh, do speak |
No, he can’t speak the least little bit !
j’ane / MARIA 70//y: THOMAS, MISS
WALKER, MA.M.MA /
Fetch the doctor, here’s Pa in a fit !”

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the Fads had for many ages been governed by a respectable and old-established dynasty, each monarch of whom in succession had cultivated the Home Virtues, or at least had allowed them to vegetate in a decent and becoming manner. Whim-Wham, the eleventieth of that name, had, to show his great respect for Sir George Cornewall Lewis and Mr. Thom, died at the age of ninety-nine years, three hundred and sixty-four days, twenty-three hours and threequarters, declaring with his latest breath that he should be ashamed, in the teeth of science, to live to be a hundred. Whim-Wham, the Eleventieth, had passed all the thirty-six thousand, four hundred and ninety-nine days of his irreproachable and exemplary life a bachelor ; and his Royal mantle fell on the shapely shoulders of his great grand-nephew, who ascended the throne of that vast and mighty kingdom by the title of Whim-Wham the Eleventy-first. The young king had numbered nineteen autumns. (I flatter myself this is perfectly original. You may have heard a given number of springs, summers, or winters, mentioned as indicating a person’s age; but autumns, I rather think, will come upon you with the brilliant burst of a bouquet-like novelty.) All the distinguished dentists of the Realm had been called to assist the sovereign in cutting his Royal wisdom-teeth; and all the courtiers, who had cut theirs, stood round in deep mourning for the defunct monarch, and tried whose lungs could crow the loudest in giving loyal tongue to the national aspiration, “Long live the King !” Sapience having satisfactorily ensued on the complete dentition of His Majesty, he, like a virtuous as well as wise ruler, bethought him how he might best promote the safety, honour, and welfare of his dominions. It occurred to him that nothing could serve these noble ends more surely than Sport. He mentioned the idea to his favourite courtiers; and every one of them by turns was enraptured with the royal genius and devotion. He brought the subject before his council, and there also the king’s inspired sense of regal responsibilities was hailed with one enthusiastic voice. Sport, manly Sport, must be encouraged as a national glory and safeguard. Everybody must go a-hunting; everybody, that was to say, who owned a horse, or could beg, buy, borrow, or steal one. Equitation was comparatively unknown in the country of the Lunes and the Fads; but so likewise was trigonometry; and hence all the more reason was there why such neglected arts and sciences should be revived. His Majesty’s subjects in the mass, had neither the time nor the means for indulgence in the elevating pastimes of hunting and shooting. No matter . Their considerate sovereign would hunt and shoot for them. So bugles, and beagles, and breech-loaders, and pheasants, and foxes, and fighting-cocks, and badgers, and bull-dogs, and rats, and stags of ten, and other animals and mechanical appliances conducive to manliness, were bought up for the use of King Whim-Wham. He set the example of being a true sportsman. If you say the example was not easy for the generality to follow, I retort that very few good examples are. One day, when Whim-Wham was out hunt

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ing, with the Prime Minister, the Court Fool, the Keeper of the Cribbage-board (whose salary had, in the new reign, been fearfully cut down, and who was looking for the lucrative and honourable appointment of Lord High Bootvarnisher), a bishop or two, and other gay companions, a melodious whistle disturbed the stillness of the forest. It was only a clodhopper whistling to his poor lame mongrel, that came limping up to him in the most painfully sycophantic manner, wagging his servile tail, and hopping (for the miserable beast could not jump) at the glad sound of his master’s call. One of the bishops was dreadfully scandalised at this impropriety; and as for the aspirant to the honours of boot-varnishing, he was for having the clod-hopper’s head chopped off then and there, and his vile cur hung on a branch of the nearest tree. But the magnanimous Whim-Wham called out that they should spare the fellow’s life, and his dog’s also. I am decidedly Radical in my sentiments, as a rule, but I must frankly admit, that if I had to choose between kings and their flunkies, clerical and lay, for any expectation of generosity, in the matter of some such little favour as my life, or my dog’s life, I should not hesitate on which side to lay my humble suit. As Whim-Wham rode along the silent maze of the forest-floor, thick-strewn with dank red leaves, he heard the whistle in his fancy, and turned it into sweet music. He was not so talkative as usual, that day; and when, after the chase, he was sitting with his Prime Minister over a crusty flagon of what-youmay-call (a particularly choice growth), he said, “Prime Minister, I say, look here. Don’t you think, for the national weal, and all the rest of it, I ought to think about getting married ?” The Prime Minister began to hum and to

ha; and then he proceeded, with increased gravity, to ha and to hum ; but as soon as he saw that the King was rather impatient for an answer, he burst into a panegyric of his Majesty’s constant thought for the welfare of his people, and said that, no doubt, his Majesty ought to get married, and to look sharp about it. “I will never,” said King Whim-Wham, “marry a girl who can’t whistle.” The Prime Minister got a little farther off, and looked nervously at the fire-irons. “Whistling,” said the King, “is—is—stunning.” The Prime Minister murmured that he had often thought so. “Very well, then,” his Majesty rejoined, “let us look out for a Princess who is young, and beautiful—blue eyes, you know, and fair hair—and who can dance, and sing, and whistle.” “Certainly,” said the Prime Minister; “and whistle. No Princess, who is a Princess, deserves to be called a Princess, if she can’t whistle.” “What an idiot you are, Prime Minister | ” said the youthful King, with the amiable and condescending familiarity that was a trait of his Royal disposition. “Do you suppose that, if whistling were a common accomplishment with Princesses, I should want my Royal consort to whistle? No, you antediluvian pump of a Prime Minister, I command you to see about finding a Princess who can whistle, because Princesses, as a rule, don’t whistle. Be rational, Prime Minister, if you can.” The Prime Minister, with tears in his eyes, promised that he would be rational, if he could. Next time the Royal party rode out to the chase—the Prime Minister trying with all his might to be rational—they went beyond their usual circuit and came into a strange country. Endeavouring to find their way back, they

strayed farther still from home, and soon began to feel the inconvenience of hunger. At last they saw a house, a large house, a very large house, with a large, iron gate, and a large brass plate on the gate, with an inscription which told them that the large house was a boarding-school for Princesses. The King desired the Prime Minister to ring the bell; and the Prime Minister, not feeling at all sure that it would be rational to do this, did it. A dragon in a mob-cap and white apron came to the gate, and looked so fierce at the Prime Minister as to force upon him the conviction that his act of ringing the bell was not rational. However, he put a bold face on the business, and asked the dragon, in civil and propitiatory accents, whether anybody was at home. “I’m at home,” said the dragon. “Oh, yes, to be sure,” said the Prime Minister. “You’re at home. Yes. Exactly. Any one else P” “No,” said the dragon. walk.” “Gone out for a walk, your Majesty,” echoed the Prime Minister, as good as a chorus. “The Princesses and their Lady Principal have all gone out for a walk.” “Then we’ll take a turn in the neighbourhood, and see what we can see of them,” said the King. “And, as we came along this road without meeting or overtaking a human creature, we’ll try the opposite direction.” So they turned their horses’ heads away from the large house, and the large iron gate, and the large brass plate, and the dragon, and rode into a country that was more and more strange to them at every step. At last they saw, on the other side of a daisy-sprinkled meadow, and in the shade of a beechen grove, a bevy of beautiful girls, gipsying. “Stay here,” said the King, dismounting, and addressing his companions in a tone of

“Gone out for a