distance, and attacks him if he feels that he can gain the victory; otherwise he hides behind a tree, a hedge, a clump of bushes. And when he has reached his destination, he does not show himself until he has made sure that he is in no danger of being seen.

“Everybody is familiar with the intelligence and fidelity of the shepherd dog; we see examples of it every day as we walk about the country; but I cannot resist the temptation to mention one incident related by James Hogg.

“Seven hundred lambs, in charge of a single shepherd, escaped one fine summer night, divided into several bands, and scattered among the valleys and fields and mountains. ‘Sirrah, my boy, my lambs have gone!’ said Hogg disconsolately to his dog, simply putting his thought into words, with no idea of giving him an order. Then the shepherd went hither and thither in search of his flock; while the dog disappeared, without a sound, and without the knowledge of his master, who could see nothing in the darkness. When the day broke, the poor shepherd, exhausted by fatigue and distress, was preparing to return to the farm, when he spied his faithful dog Sirrah, in a neighboring valley, guarding not simply a few lambs that he had found, as one might have supposed at first; but the whole flock, with not one missing. ‘That,’ says James Hogg, ‘is the most amazing fact in my whole experience.’—And, in truth, how can we comprehend the patience, the sagacity and the labor which enabled that dog, in the brief space of a summer night, to collect that whole band of fugitives! It was more than several shepherds together could have done.

“Hogg also relates how a sheep-stealer carried on his unlawful trade with the help of his dog. The thief would pretend to want to buy some sheep, and while he examined the flock, he would indicate to his dog, by a sign which he never mistook, which ones he desired to appropriate. During the night the dog would return alone, often from a considerable distance, and would never fail to detach from the flock and drive to his master the sheep he had designated, which were always the best and fattest of the flock.

“If a sheepfold takes fire, the sheep refuse to go out, but the shepherd dog saves a great part of them by rushing into the fold and barking and snapping at them until he induces them to go out.

“In Turkey, where the dogs are very numerous, every person who meets one at night is attacked unless he is provided with a lantern; for they look upon him as a stranger with evil intentions.

“Petrarch had a dog that snatched a naked sword from the hand of a cutthroat who attacked his master. We have many servants who would not do as much!

“Plutarch relates an anecdote which proves that the dog never forgets his master’s murderers and never forgives them: King Pyrrhus caused his whole army to march past a dog who had watched for three months the body of his murdered master, refusing to eat or drink; he seized the murderer as he passed, and would not relax his hold until the man had confessed his crime.

“You must surely have heard of the dog of Montargis, who pointed out the place where his master had been buried, and jumped at the assassin whenever he saw him; the result being that the king ordered a duel between the man and the dog, in which the latter was the victor and slew the murderer.

“In the memoirs of Benvenuto Cellini, we find this anecdote: A malefactor had forced his way into the artist’s shop at night; the dog that was on guard there tried at first to contend against him, although he was armed with a dagger. Being wounded, and feeling that his strength was failing him, he hastened to the apprentices’ room, found them sleeping soundly, and, to rouse them, pulled off the bedclothes. As they could not understand the dog’s persistence in uncovering them, they drove him from the room and locked the door. Thereupon the poor dog, wounded as he was, returned to the robber; but he, being young and active, succeeded in making his escape. Some time after, Cellini happened to be walking one day in Rome, when his faithful dog suddenly darted at a fine gentleman who was passing, and clung savagely to him despite the swords and staves of the bystanders. At last they succeeded in forcing him to let go, but the fine gentleman, hurrying away, dropped from beneath his cloak several valuable jewels, among which Benvenuto recognized a ring belonging to him. He instantly cried out: ‘That is the villain who broke into my house at night and robbed me; my dog recognized him.’—And he was about to set the animal on the robber again, when he confessed his crime and begged for mercy.

“One of the most astounding and most mysterious faculties of the dog—but not all dogs possess it—is that of divination. When the regicide Jacques Clément appeared before Henri III, intending to assassinate him, a favorite dog of the king flew into a perfect paroxysm of rage, and only with the greatest difficulty could they succeed in keeping him in an adjoining room; had they not done so, he would have hurled himself upon the monk and the crime which the latter meditated would not have been consummated.

“On September 10, 1419, the Duc de Bourgogne, Jean-sans-Peur, mounted his horse in the courtyard of the house he occupied at Bray-sur-Seine, to ride to the interview he was to have with the Dauphin of France at the bridge of Montereau. His dog had howled piteously all night, and when he saw that his master was about to start, he darted from the kennel where he was fastened, with gleaming eyes and hair erect; finally, when the duke, after a parting salutation to Madame de Gyac who was looking on from her window, rode forth from the courtyard, the dog made such a mighty effort that he broke his double iron chain, and as the horse passed under the gateway, he threw himself at his chest and bit him so cruelly that the beast reared and nearly unhorsed his rider. The grooms tried to drive him away with whips, but the dog paid no heed to the blows he received and threw himself again at the neck of the duke’s horse. The duke, thinking that he was mad, seized a small battle axe which he carried at his saddle-bow, and laid open his head; the dog gave a yell and fell dying in the gateway, as if still forbidding his master to go forth. The duke, with a sigh of regret, jumped his horse over the faithful creature’s body and rode to the bridge of Montereau—where he was assassinated.

“Lastly, they tell of an equally admirable and equally incomprehensible act of an English bull dog, who followed his master to his bedroom one night. The latter, who had never paid much attention to the dog, refused to let him enter the bedroom; but the animal was so persistent in begging to remain with him that he finally consented to allow him to take up his quarters there. That same night, a servant stole into this same bedroom, with the intention of killing his master and then robbing him; but he was prevented by the faithful dog, who had insisted upon doing sentry duty, and who saved his master’s life by seizing the robber.

“These, mesdames, are a few of the anecdotes which I have collected concerning the canine race and which show the exceptional claims of this faithful animal. I will add that the fine dog belonging to the owner of the Tower, for which mademoiselle feels such a strong liking, is, according to his master,—he didn’t tell me so, but his old servant has often heard him say it,—it seems, endowed with this faculty of divining affection or hatred, of which I have just cited to you some extraordinary proofs. Thus Ami, when in the presence of strangers, divines their feeling for his master; he fawns on those who are inclined to like him; he growls and grumbles at those who would rather do him an injury than a good turn.

“You must agree, madame, that such a dog is exceedingly valuable; with him it is impossible to be led astray by the