There are so many varieties of terriers, and so many celebrated breeds of these dogs, that it would be a difficult task to give a separate account of each. Some have a cross of the bull-dog; and these, perhaps, are unequalled for courage and strength of jaw. In the latter quality they are superior to the bull-dog. Then there is the pepper-and-mustard breed, the Isle of Sky, the rough and smooth English terrier, and a peculiar breed, of which my own sensible little Judy, now reposing at my feet, is one, besides some others.

Perhaps there is no breed of dogs which attach themselves so strongly to man as the terrier. They are his companions in his walks, and their activity and high spirit enable them to keep up with a horse through a long day's journey. Their fidelity to their master is unbounded, and their affection for him unconquerable. When he is ill they will repose for hours by the side of his bed, as still as a mother watching over a sick and slumbering child; and when he is well they will frisk around him, as if their pleasure was renewed with his returning health. How well do I remember this to have been the case with my faithful old dog Trim! Nothing would induce him to make the slightest noise till I called him on my bed, when I awoke in the morning. Night or day, he never left me for many years; and when at last I was obliged to take a journey without him, his life fell a sacrifice to his affection for me. Alas, poor Trim!

This breed of dogs, the true English terrier, shows an invincible ardour in all that he is required to do, as well as persevering fortitude. In drawing badgers and foxes from their holes, the severe bites of these animals only seem to animate them to greater exertions; and they have been known to suffer themselves to be killed by the former sooner than give over the unequal contest.

The vignette at the end of this notice represents a favourite wire-haired terrier of mine, called Peter, well known for many years at Hampton Court. He had wonderful courage and perseverance, and was the best dog to hunt rabbits in thick hedge-rows I ever met with. He was also a capital water-dog; and he was frequently enticed by some of the officers quartered at Hampton Court to accompany them to the neighbouring lock of the river Thames, in which an unfortunate duck was to be hunted. I was assured that on these occasions Peter distinguished himself greatly, diving after the duck whenever it dived, and beating all the other dogs by his energy and perseverance. Peter was a general favourite, and perhaps this was partly owing to his being a great pickle. He was always getting into scrapes. Twice he broke either his shoulder-bone or his leg by scrambling up a ladder. He was several times nearly killed by large dogs, of which he was never known to show the slightest fear; and with those of about his own size he would fight till he died. He has killed sixty rats in a barn in about as many minutes; and he was an inveterate foe to cats. I remember once taking him with me on a rabbit-ferreting excursion. Before the ferrets were put in the holes, I made Peter quite aware that he was not to touch them; and he was so sensible a dog that there was no difficulty in doing this, although it was the first time he had seen a ferret. If a rabbit bolted from the hole he was watching, he killed it in an instant; but when the ferret made its appearance, Peter retreated a step or two, showing his teeth a little as if he longed to attack it. Towards the end of the day I had gone to a little distance, leaving Peter watching a hole. Presently I heard a squeak, and on turning round I saw the ferret dead, and Peter standing over it, looking exceedingly ashamed at what he had done, and perfectly conscious that he had disobeyed orders. The temptation, however, was too great for him to resist. Peter at last got into bad company, for he suffered himself to be enticed by the ostlers and others into the taps at Hampton Court, and they indulged him in his fondness for killing vermin and cats. He was a dog of extraordinary sense. I once gave him some milk and water at my breakfast, which was too hot. He afterwards was in the habit of testing the heat by dipping one of his paws into the basin, preferring rather to scald his foot than to run the risk of burning his tongue. He had other peculiarities. When I mounted my horse and wanted him to follow me, he would come a little distance, and then all at once pretend to be lame. The more I called the lamer he became. He was, in fact, aware of my long rides, and was too lazy to follow me. He played this trick very frequently. If I called him while I had my snuff-box in my hand, he would come to me, pretending to sneeze the whole of the time. I have said so much about Peter, because he was a good specimen of one of the small breed of terriers.

Terriers, more than any other breed of dogs, live so much in our rooms, and are so generally our companions during our walks and rides, that they naturally imbibe a great degree of sensibility of the least look or word of their master. This very sensibility makes them extremely jealous of any preference or attention shown by their master to another dog. I had an old terrier who never could bear to see me do this. He showed it not only by his countenance in a remarkable way, but would fall upon any dog he saw me caress. Mons. Blaze gives an instance of a dog having killed a young child, who had been in the habit of fondling a dog belonging to the same owner, and showing fear and dislike of him. Another dog was so strongly attached to his master that he was miserable when he was absent. When the gentleman married, the dog seemed to feel a diminution of affection towards him, and showed great uneasiness. Finding, however, that his new mistress grew fond of him, he became perfectly happy. Somewhat more than a year after this they had a child. There was now a decided inquietude about the dog, and it was impossible to avoid noticing that he felt himself miserable. The attention paid to the child increased his wretchedness; he loathed his food, and nothing could content him, though he was treated on this account with the utmost tenderness. At last he hid himself in the coal-cellar, and every means were used to induce him to return, but all in vain. He was deaf to entreaty, rejected all kindness, refused to eat, and continued firm in his resolution, till exhausted nature yielded to death.

I have seen so much of the sensitiveness and jealousy of dogs, owing to their unbounded affection for their masters, that I cannot doubt the truth of this anecdote, which was related by Mr. Dibdin. A lady had a favourite terrier, whose jealousy of any attentions shown to her by strangers was so great, that in her walks he guarded her with the utmost care, and would not suffer any one to touch her. The following anecdote will prove the unchanging affection of these dogs. It was communicated to me by the best and most amiable man I have ever met with, either in public or private life.

He had a small terrier, which was much attached to him. On leaving this country for America, he placed the dog under the care of his sister, who resided in London. The dog at first was inconsolable, and could scarcely be persuaded to eat anything. At the end of three years his owner returned, and upon knocking at the door of his sister's house, the dog recognised the well-known knock, ran down-stairs with the utmost eagerness, fondled his master with the greatest affection; and when he was in the sitting-room, the faithful animal jumped upon the piano-forte, that he might get as near to him as possible. The dog's attachment remained to the last moment of his life. He was taken ill, and was placed in his master's dressing-room on one of his cloaks. When he could scarcely move, his kind protector met him endeavouring to crawl to him up the stairs. He took the dog in his arms, placed him on his cloak, when the dog gave him a look of affection which could not be mistaken, and immediately died. There can, I think, be no doubt but that this affectionate animal, in his endeavour to get up the steps to his master, was influenced by sensations of love and gratitude, which death alone could extinguish, and which the approach of death prompted him to show. How charming are these instances of the affection of dogs to a kind master! and how forcibly may we draw forth the strongest testimonials of love from them, by treating them as they deserve to be treated! Few people sufficiently appreciate the attachment, fidelity, and sagacity of these too-often persecuted animals, or are aware how much they suffer from unkindness or harsh treatment.

Every one is acquainted with the pretty picture Sir Walter Scott has drawn of the affectionate terrier, which was the companion of his hero in "Guy Mannering." We see the faithful Wasp "scampering at large in a thousand wheels round the heath, and come back to jump up to his master, and assure him that he participated in the pleasures of the journey." We see him during the fight with the robbers, "annoying their heels, and repeatedly effecting a moment's diversion in his master's favour, and pursuing them when they ran away." We hear the jolly farmer exclaim—"De'il, but your dog's weel entered wi' the vermin;" and when he goes to see his friend in prison, and brings Wasp with him, we see the joy of the latter, and hear the remark elicited by it—"Whisht, Wasp—man! Wow, but he's glad to see you, poor thing." The whole race of pepper-and-mustard are brought before us—that breed which are held in such high estimation, not only as vermin-killers, but for their intelligence and fidelity, and other companionable qualities.

I could not deny myself the pleasure of introducing this account of the terrier, as it describes so well their courage, fidelity, and attachment. "Wasp," we are told, at the close of an eventful day, "crouched himself on the coverlet at his master's feet, having first licked his master's hand to ask leave." This is part of the natural language of the dog, and how expressive it is! They speak by their eyes, their tail, and by various gestures, and it is almost impossible to misunderstand their meaning. There is a well-known anecdote of two terriers who were in the habit of going out together to hunt rabbits. One of them got so far into a hole that he could not extricate himself. His companion returned to the house, and by his importunity and significant gestures induced his master to follow him. He led him to the hole, made him understand what was the matter, and his associate was at last dug out.

The following affords another proof of the sagacity of these dogs:—

A respectable farmer, residing in a village near Gosport, had a terrier dog who was his constant companion. His business frequently led him across the water to Portsmouth, to which place the dog regularly attended him. The farmer had a son-in-law, a bookseller at Portsmouth, to whose house he frequently went, taking the dog with him. One day, the animal having lost his master in Portsmouth, after searching for him at his usual haunts, went to the bookseller, and by various gesticulations gave him to understand that he had lost his master; his supplications were not in vain, for the bookseller, who understood his language, immediately called his boy, gave him a penny, and ordered him to go directly to the beach, and give the ferryman the money for his passage to the opposite shore. The dog, who seemed to understand the whole proceeding, was much pleased, and jumped directly into the boat, and when landed at Gosport, immediately ran home. He always afterwards went to the bookseller, if he had lost his master at Portsmouth, feeling sure that his boat-hire would be paid, and which was always done.

The same dog, when he was wet or dirty, would go into the barn till he was clean and dry, and then scratch at the parlour-door for admittance.The Rev. Leonard Jenyns, in his "Observations in Natural History," records the following.—

"A lady,[Q] living in the neighbourhood of my own village, had some years back a favourite Scotch terrier, which always accompanied her in her rides, and was also in the habit of following the carriage to church every Sunday morning. One summer day the lady and her family were from home several weeks, the dog being left behind. The latter, however, continued to come to church by itself for several Sundays in succession, galloping off from the house at the accustomed hour, so as to arrive at the time of service commencing. After waiting in the churchyard a short time, it was seen to return home quiet and dispirited. The distance from the house to the church is three miles, and beyond that at which the ringing of the bells could be ordinarily heard. This was probably an instance of the force of habit, assisted by some association of recollections connected with the movements of the household on that particular day of the week."

An old house being under repair, the bells on the ground-floor were taken down. The mistress of the house had an old favourite terrier, and when she wanted her servants, sent the dog to ring the bell in her dressing-room, having previously attached a bit of wood to the bell-rope. When the dog pulled at the rope, he listened, and if the bell did not ring, he pulled till he heard it, and then returned to the room he had left. If a piece of paper were put into his mouth, with a message written on it, he would carry it to the person he was told to go to, and waited to bring back the answer.

Mr. Laing, who was steward to General Sharp, of Houston, near Uphall, had a terrier dog which gave many proofs of his sagacity. Upon one occasion his wife lent a white petticoat to a neighbour in which to attend a christening; the dog observed his mistress make the loan, followed the woman home who borrowed the article, never quitted her, but accompanied her to the christening, and leaped several times on her knee: nor did he lose sight of her till the piece of dress was at last fairly restored to Mrs. Laing. During the time this person was at the christening she was much afraid the dog would attempt to tear the petticoat off her, as she well knew the object of his attendance.

One of the most extraordinary terriers I ever met with belonged to a man named T——y, well known for many years in the neighbourhood of Hampton Court. The father of this man had been in a respectable way of life, but his son wanted steadiness of character, and, indeed, good conduct, and had it not been for the kindness of his late Majesty, King William the Fourth, he would have been reduced to poverty long before he was. T——y, through the interest of the king, then Duke of Clarence, was tried in several situations, but failed in them all. At last he was made a postman, but was found drunk one evening with all his letters scattered about him, and, of course, lost his situation. He then took up the employment of rat-catcher, for which, perhaps, he was better qualified than any other. His stock-in-trade consisted of some ferrets and an old terrier dog, and a more extraordinary dog was seldom seen. He was rough, rather strongly made, and of a sort of cinnamon colour, having only one eye; his appearance being in direct contrast to what Bewick designates the genteel terrier. The other eye had a fluid constantly exuding from it, which made a sort of furrow down the side of his cheek. He always kept close to the heels of his master, hanging down his head, and appearing the personification of misery and wretchedness. He was, however, a wonderful vermin-killer, and wherever his master placed him, there he remained, waiting with the utmost patience and resignation till an unfortunate rat bolted from the hole, which he instantly killed in a most philosophical manner. The poor dog had to undergo the vicissitudes of hard fare, amounting almost to starvation, of cold, rain, and other evils, but still he was always to be seen at his master's feet, and his fidelity to him was unshaken. No notice, no kind word, seemed to have any effect upon him if offered by a stranger, but he obeyed and understood the slightest signal from his owner. This man was an habitual drunkard, at least whenever he could procure the means of becoming one. It was a cold, frosty night in November, when T——y was returning from a favourite alehouse, along one of the Thames Ditton lanes, some of which, owing to the flatness of the country, have deep ditches by their sides. Into one of these the unfortunate man staggered in a fit of brutal intoxication, and was drowned. When the body was discovered the next morning, the dog was seen using his best endeavours to drag it out of the ditch. He had probably been employed all night in this attempt, and in his efforts had torn the coat from the shoulders of his master. It should be mentioned that this faithful animal had saved his master's life on two former occasions, when he was in nearly similar circumstances.

It may interest some of the readers of this little story to be informed, that a few years before the event which has been related took place, the unhappy man's wife died, leaving four very young children. She was a most industrious woman, of excellent character, and her great misery on her death-bed was the reflection that these children—two boys and two girls—would be left to the care of her drunken husband. She was comforted, however, in her dying moments, by one whose heart and hand have always been ready to relieve the distressed, with the assurance that her children should be taken care of. So when the excellent Queen Adelaide heard of the circumstance, she immediately sent for the four children, placed them under the charge of a proper person, educated and maintained them, placed them in respectable situations in life, and continued to be their friend till her death. This is one of numerous instances which could be related by the author of her Majesty's silent, but unbounded benevolence.

It is time, however, to resume my anecdotes of terriers.

A gentleman of my acquaintance had a favourite dog of this description, which generally slept in his bed-room. My friend was in the habit of reading in bed. On calling upon him one morning, he took me into his bed-room, and showed me his bed-curtains much burnt, and one of his sheets. The night before he had been reading the newspaper in bed, with a candle near him, and had gone to sleep. The newspaper had fallen on the candle, and thus set fire to the curtain. He was awoke by his dog scratching him violently with his fore-feet, and was thus in time to call for assistance, and save the house from being burnt down, and also probably to save his own life.

Another of my acquaintances has a very small pet terrier, a capital rat-killer, who always evinces great antipathy to those animals. She lately produced three puppies, two of which were drowned. After hunting for them in every direction, she returned to her litter, where she was found the next morning not only suckling her own whelp, but a young rat; and thus she continued to do till it reached maturity. The morning on which her puppies were drowned there had been a battue of rats, some of which were wounded and escaped. One of these latter was the young rat in question. This, no doubt, was taken possession of for the purpose of relieving her of her superabundant milk.

A gentleman who had befriended an ill-used terrier acquired such an influence over the grateful dog, that he was obedient to the least look or sign of his master, and attached himself to him and his children in a most extraordinary manner. One of the children having behaved ill, his father attempted to put the boy out of the room, who made some resistance. The dog seeing the bustle, supposed his master was going to beat the boy, and therefore tried to pull him away by the skirts of his coat, thus showing his affection and sagacity at the same time.

Captain Brown relates the following:—

Sir Patrick Walker writes me:—"Pincer, in appearance, is of the English terrier breed, but in manner indicates a good deal of the Scotch colley, or shepherd's dog. He has a remarkably good nose, is a keen destroyer of vermin, and is in the habit of coming to the house for assistance ever since the following occurrence:—He came into the parlour one evening when some friends were with us, and looking in my face, by many expressive gestures, evinced great anxiety that I should follow him. Upon speaking to him, he leaped, and his whine got to a more determined bark, and pulled me by the collar or sleeve of the coat, until I was induced to follow him; and when I got up, he began leaping and gambolling before me, and led the way to an outhouse, to a large chest filled with pieces of old wood, and which he continued by the same means to solicit to be moved. This was done, and he took out a large rat, killed it, and returned to the parlour quite composed and satisfied.

"Similar occurrences have frequently taken place since, with this addition, that as I sometimes called the servant, he often leaves me and runs in the same manner to get his assistance, as soon as he finds me quitting the room to follow him. In no instance has Pincer ever been wrong, his scent is so very good. Once, when he had got assistance, he directed our attention to some loose wood in the yard; and when part of it was removed, he suddenly manifested disappointment, and that the object of pursuit was gone. His manner and look seemed more than instinct, and at once told his story. After a little pause, and some anxious looks, he dashed up a ladder that rested against a low out-house, and took a large rat out of the spout, whither it had apparently escaped whilst Pincer came for assistance."

Terriers appear to have a strong instinctive faculty of finding their way back to their homes, when removed from them to long distances, and even when they have seas to cross. There are instances of their having done this from France, Ireland, and even Germany. Their powers of endurance, therefore, must be very great, and their energies as well as affections equally strong. They have also an invincible perseverance in all they do, to which every fox-hunter will bear his testimony. In my youth, when following the hounds, I have been delighted in witnessing the energy of a brace of terriers, who were sure to make their appearance at the slightest check, running with an ardour quite extraordinary, and incessant in their exertions to be with the busiest of the pack in their endeavours to find. If the fox takes to earth, the little brave terrier eagerly follows, and shows by his baying whether the fox lays deep or not, so that those who are employed in digging it out can act accordingly. In rabbit-shooting in thick furze or breaks, the terrier, as I have often witnessed, will take covert with the eagerness and impetuosity of a foxhound. On one of these occasions I saw an enormous wild cat started, which a small terrier pursued and never quitted, notwithstanding the unequal contest, till it was shot by a keeper. As vermin-killers, they are superior to all other dogs. The celebrated terrier Billy was known to have killed one hundred rats in seven minutes.

Nor are their affections less strong than their courage. A gentleman in the neighbourhood of Bath had a terrier which produced a litter of four puppies. He ordered one of them to be drowned, which was done by throwing it into a pail of water, in which it was kept down by a mop till it appeared to be dead. It was then thrown into a dust-hole, and covered with ashes. Two mornings afterwards, the servant discovered that the bitch had still four puppies, and amongst them was the one which it was supposed had been drowned. It was conjectured that in the course of a short time the terrier had, unobserved, raked her whelp from the ashes, and had restored it to life.

An excellent clergyman, residing close to Brighton, gave me the following curious anecdote of a dog which his son, the late greatly-lamented Major R—— brought to England with him from Spain. This dog was a sort of Spanish terrier, and his disposition and habits were very peculiar indeed, unlike those of any dog I ever heard of. One day a teacher of music was going to one of her pupils, and as she was passing at some little distance from the house of the owner of this dog, had her attention attracted to him. He first looked at her very significantly, pulled her by the gown the contrary way to which she was going, and evidently wanted her to follow him. Partly instigated by curiosity, but chiefly because he held her gown tight in his mouth, she suffered herself to be led some distance, when the dog brought her into a field in which some houses were in the course of being built. She then became alarmed, and seeing two or three labourers, she asked them to drive away the dog. Finding, however, that he would not quit his hold, they advised her to see where the dog would lead her, promising to accompany and protect her. Thus assured, she allowed him to lead her where he pleased. The dog brought her to the houses which were being built. On arriving at them, it was found that the area had been dug out, and a strong plank placed across it, one end resting on a heap of earth. At this end the dog began to scratch eagerly; and on the plank being lifted up, a large beef bone was discovered, which the dog seized in his mouth, and trotted away with it perfectly satisfied. My informant said that he had taken some pains to ascertain the accuracy of this anecdote from the young lady herself, and that I might depend on its truth.

A somewhat similar occurrence took place in my own neighbourhood, very recently. A lady, going to make a morning's call, passed the gateway of a house, when her gown was seized by a dog, who pulled her the contrary way to which she was going. She at last disengaged herself, and made her call. On coming out, the dog was waiting for her, and again took her gown in his mouth, and led her to the gateway she had previously passed. Here he stopped, and as the dog held a tight hold, she rang the bell; and on a servant opening the gate the animal, perfectly satisfied, trotted in, when she found that he belonged to the house, but had been shut out.

It may be also mentioned as an instance of courage and fidelity in a terrier, that as a gentleman was returning home, a man armed with a large stick seized him by the breast, and striking him a violent blow on the head, desired him instantly to deliver his watch and money. As he was preparing to repeat the blow, the terrier sprung at him, and seized him by the throat. His master, at the same time, giving the man a violent blow, he fell backwards and dropped his stick. The gentleman took it up, and ran off, followed by his dog, but not before the animal had torn off and carried away in his mouth a portion of the man's waistcoat.

The following fact will serve to prove that dogs are capable of gratitude in no ordinary degree:—

A surgeon at Dover, seeing a terrier in the street which had received some injury, took it home; and having cured it in a couple of days, let it go. For many weeks the grateful animal used to pay him a daily visit of a few minutes, and after a vehement wagging of his tail, scampered off again to his own home.

A neighbour of mine has a terrier which has shown many odd peculiarities in his habits. He has contracted a great friendship for a white cat, and evinced his affection for it the other day in a curious manner. The dog was observed to scratch a large deep hole in the garden. When he had finished it he sought out the cat, dragged her by the neck to the hole, endeavoured to place her in it, and to cover her with the soil. The cat, not liking this proceeding, at last made her escape.

While two terriers were hunting together in a wood, one was caught by the leg in a trap set for foxes. His companion finding that he could not extricate the other, ran to the house of his owner, and by his significant gesticulations induced him to follow; and by this means he was extricated.

Mr. Morritt, well known to the readers of the Life of Sir Walter Scott, as his intimate and confidential friend, had two terriers of the pepper-and-mustard breed, or rather, as we prefer him to any other character Sir Walter Scott has delighted us with, the Dandy Dinmont breed. These dogs (for we avoid the feminine appellation when we can) were strongly attached to their excellent master, and he to them. They were mother and daughter, and each produced a litter of puppies about the same time. Mr. Morritt was seriously ill at this period, and confined to his bed. Fond as these dogs were of their puppies, they had an equal affection for their master, and in order to prove to him that such was the case, they adopted the following expedient. They conveyed their two litters of puppies to one place, and while one of the mothers remained to suckle and take care of them, the other went into Mr. Morritt's bedroom and continued there from morning until the evening. When the evening arrived, she went and relieved the other dog, who then came into the bedroom, and remained quietly all night by the side of the bed, and this they continued to do day after day in succession.

This charming anecdote was communicated to me from a quarter which cannot leave a doubt of its authenticity, and affords an affecting proof of gratitude and love in animals towards those who have treated them with kindness, and made them their friends. Such an anecdote as this should be sufficient to preserve dogs from much of the ill-treatment they meet with.

I knew a very clever terrier belonging to a friend of mine. His name was Snap. Now Snap one fine, hot, summer's day, accompanied his master, who was on horseback, on his way from London to the neighbourhood of Windsor. The road was very dusty, and, as I have said, the weather hot, and Snap was very thirsty. No water was met with until Hounslow had been passed. At last a woman crossed the road with a bucket of water, which she had drawn from a neighbouring pump. On arriving at her cottage she placed it outside her door, and left it there. Snap saw it and lapped up some of the water with evident satisfaction, his master waiting for him. When he had finished his lapping, instead of following, he deliberately inserted his hind-quarters into the bucket—took a good cooling bath—shook himself in the bucket—jumped out—gave himself another shake, and then followed his master. If Snap was lost in London, he would go to every house usually frequented by his master; and if he then could not find him, would return home. Snap, in fact, was an extraordinary dog.

One night, a gentleman, between fifty and sixty years of age, went into a house of a particular description near the Admiralty. He had not been long there when he died suddenly. He had with him a small dog of the terrier kind, which immediately left the room. There was nothing found on the gentleman's person to lead to a discovery of his name or residence. About twelve o'clock, however, on the following night, three interesting young ladies, of very genteel appearance, between the ages of sixteen and twenty, arrived at the house in which the gentleman died, accompanied by the dog. They came in a chaise from Richmond. It appears that the dog, immediately after the decease of his master, ran off to Richmond, where he usually resided. As soon as the door was opened he rushed into the apartment of the young ladies, who were in the act of dressing themselves. He began to solicit their attention by whines and cries, and his eyes turned to the door, as if to invite them to follow him. Failing in this, he became more earnest, seized their clothes, and pulled them towards the door with so much violence, that one of their gowns was torn. This excited great alarm; and from the intelligence shown by the animal, it was resolved by the young ladies to resign themselves to the dog, which continued to entice them away. A chaise was accordingly ordered, and they immediately took their seats in it. The dog led the way, with its head almost constantly turned back, and his eyes fixed upon the carriage, until he led them to the house near the Admiralty, where his master had died. There they alighted; but how great was their grief, horror, and surprise, to find their father dead in such a situation!

The deceased proved to be Mr. ——, an inhabitant of Lewisham, in Kent, where he possessed a farm of considerable extent, and followed the business of an auctioneer, and was greatly respected in his neighbourhood. That night he dropped down in the house alluded to, when the people, supposing him dead, immediately gave the alarm, and the body was conveyed to the Lord Cochrane hotel, within a few doors, in Spring Gardens. Here it was discovered that the spark of life was not totally extinguished. He was carried up-stairs and put to bed, and medical assistance was called in; but in vain,—in a few minutes he was a corpse. As the people of the house were carrying him up-stairs, a sum of 1100l. fell from his pocket in bank-notes, tied up in a bundle, and marked on the outside, "To be paid into Snow's,"—a circumstance sufficient in itself to show that he had not been dishonestly treated by the female who accompanied him into the house from which he was brought, or any other person belonging to it. The interesting little dog, after his return, remained at his post, the faithful guardian of his beloved master's remains. He lay on the foot of the bed, with his eyes constantly fixed on the body, with an eager, anxious, melancholy expression.

The place was crowded with people, led by curiosity to this interesting scene. The dog never appeared to take any notice of these strange visitors, and no rude hand attempted to interrupt the little mourner in his melancholy office. The verdict of the coroner's inquest was,—"Died by the visitation of God."

Another of the same breed of dogs evinced much sagacity on the following occasion:—

His master occupied furnished lodgings near the Inns of Court in London. In the hurry of removing from them, neither he nor his servants thought of the dog, who was not in the way when they quitted the house. When the dog returned to it, finding his master gone, he trotted off to Kensington, where an intimate friend of his master resided, and very quietly and patiently made himself at home in the house. As he was well known, he was fed and taken care of, and at the end of three days his master called, and he then gladly went away with him.

In this instance it is, I think, evident, that the dog possessed a sort of reasoning faculty, which induced him to suppose that the best chance he had of finding his master was by going to a place to which he had formerly accompanied him; and he was correct in his calculation.

This faculty was again exercised in the following manner:—

A gentleman residing in the Tower of London had a terrier which he one day lost, about seven miles from town. The dog attached himself to a soldier, and notwithstanding the man went to town in an omnibus, the dog followed the vehicle. When the soldier alighted from it, he went to the barracks in St. James's Park, the dog continuing close behind him. On examining the collar, the name and residence of the owner of the dog were found on it. The soldier therefore brought him to the Tower, and gave the above particulars. From this account it may be supposed that the dog, having been familiar with the sight of Guardsmen at the Tower, had followed one of them in hopes that he belonged to that place, and therefore would conduct him to it.

I am not aware that any writer upon dogs has noticed one of their peculiarities, that of curiosity. Let me give a curious and well-authenticated instance of this property, which was communicated to me by the owner of the dog. This animal was a Scotch terrier, named Snob, and certainly a more singular dog has seldom been met with. His master was commander of the fleet on the South American station, and Snob embarked with him. He soon began to give proofs of his extraordinary curiosity, for he liked to see everything that was going forward in the ship. Snob, in fact, was a sort of Paul Pry. He watched everything that was to be done. One night the sailors were kept up aloft for some hours doing something to the sails; Snob remained on the deck the whole time, looking very wise, and watching the sailors with one paw lifted up. He would at other times wander between the decks, looking at everything going forward; and when he had been shut in the cabin he has frequently been observed standing on his hind legs looking through the keyhole of the door, in order to watch the proceedings which were carried on. I have a great respect for Snob, who is still alive, and I have no doubt his curiosity is as great as ever.

A curious instance of ferocity and affection in a terrier bitch is recorded by Mr. Daniel:—After a very severe burst of upwards of an hour, a fox was, by Mr. Daniel's hounds, run to earth, at Heney Dovehouse, near Sudbury, in Suffolk. The terriers were lost; but as the fox went to ground in view of the headmost hounds, and it was the concluding day of the season, it was resolved to dig him out, and two men from Sudbury brought a couple of terriers for that purpose. After considerable labour, the hunted fox was got, and given to the hounds; whilst they were breaking him, one of the terriers slipped back into the earth, and again laid. After more digging, a bitch-fox was taken out, and the terrier killed two cubs in the earth; three others were saved from her fury, and which were begged by the owner of the bitch, who said he should make her suckle them. This was laughed at as impossible; however, the man was positive, and the cubs were given to him. The bitch-fox was carried away, and turned into an earth in another county. The terrier had behaved so well at earth, that she was some days afterwards bought, with the cubs she had fostered, by Mr. Daniel. The bitch continued regularly to suckle, and reared them until able to shift for themselves. What adds to this singularity is, that the terrier's whelp was nearly five weeks old, and the cubs could just see, when this exchange of progeny was made.

The following is a proof not only of the kind disposition, but the sense of a terrier.

A gentleman, from whom I received the anecdote, was walking one day along a road in Lancashire, when he was accosted, if the term may be used, by a terrier dog. The animal's gesticulations were at first so strange and unusual, that he felt inclined to get out of its way. The dog, however, at last, by various significant signs and expressive looks, made his meaning known, and the gentleman, to the dog's great delight, turned and followed him for a few hundred yards. He was led to the banks of a canal, which he had not before seen, and there he discovered a small dog struggling in the water for his life, and nearly exhausted by his efforts to save himself from drowning. The sides of the canal were bricked, with a low parapet wall rather higher than the bank. The gentleman, by stooping down, with some difficulty got hold of the dog and drew him out, his companion all the time watching the proceedings. It cannot be doubted, but that in this instance the terrier made use of the only means in his power to save the other dog, and this in a way which showed a power of reasoning equally strong with that of a human being, under a similar circumstance.

I may here mention another instance of a terrier finding his way back to his former home.A gentleman residing near York went to London, and on his return brought with him a young terrier dog, which had never been out of London. He brought him to York in one of the coaches, and thence conveyed him to his residence. Impatient of separation from his former master, he took the first opportunity of escaping from the stable in which he had been confined, and was seen running on the turnpike road towards York by the boy who had him in charge, and who followed him for some distance. A few days afterwards, the gentleman who had lost the dog received a letter front London, acquainting him that the dog was found lying at the door of his lodgings, his feet quite sore, and in a most emaciated condition.

A few years ago, a blind terrier dog was brought from Cashiobury Park, near Watford, to Windsor. On arriving at the latter place he became very restless, and took the first opportunity of making his escape, and, blind as he was, made his way back to Cashiobury Park, his native place.

A correspondent informs me, that whilst he was taking a walk one summer's evening, he observed two rough-looking men, having a bull-dog with them, annoying a sickly-looking young gentleman, who was accompanied by a terrier. The bull-dog at last seized the latter, and would soon have killed it, had not my correspondent interfered. He was then informed that a few years previous, when his master was in bed, this little terrier came to his bedroom door, and scratched and yelled to be admitted. When this had been done, he immediately rushed to a closet-door in the room, at which he barked most furiously. His master, becoming alarmed, fastened the door, and having obtained the assistance of his servants, a notorious thief was discovered in the closet.

Mr. White, of Selborne, relates a pleasing anecdote of affection, which existed between two incongruous animals—a horse and a hen, and which showed a mutual fellowship and kindness for each other. The following anecdote, communicated to me by a clergyman in Devonshire, affords another proof of affection between two animals of opposite natures. I will give it in his own words:—

"Some few months since it was necessary to confine our little terrier bitch, on account of distemper. The prison-door was constructed of open bars; and shortly after the dog was placed in durance, we observed a bantam cock gazing compassionately at the melancholy inmate, who, doubtless, sadly missed its warm rug by the parlour fire. At last the bantam contrived to squeeze through the bars, and a friendship of a most unusual kind commenced. Pylades and Orestes, Nisus and Euryalus, could not have been bound by closer bonds of affection. The bantam scarcely forsook the poor prisoner's cell for its daily food, and when it did the dog became uneasy, whining till her friend returned, and then it was most amusing to watch the actions of the biped and quadruped. As the dog became worse, so did the bantam's attentions redouble; and by way of warming the dog, it took its place between the forelegs, and then the little animal settled luxuriously down on the bird, seeming to enjoy the warmth imparted by the feathers. In this position, and nestled closely side by side, did this curious pair pass some weeks, till death put an end to the poor dog and this singular friendship. It must be added for the bantam's honour, that he was most melancholy for some time afterwards."

The same clergyman also communicated to me the following anecdote illustrative of the sagacity of terriers.

He says that "his brother-in-law, who has a house in Woburn Place, and another in the City, had a wire-haired terrier named Bob, of extraordinary sagacity. The dog's knowledge of London and his adventures would form a little history. His master was in the habit, occasionally, of spending a few days at Gravesend, but did not always take his dog with him. Bob, left behind one day against his liking, scampered off to London Bridge, and out of the numerous steamers boarded the Gravesend boat, disembarked at that place, went to the accustomed inn, and not finding his master there, got on board the steamer again and returned to town. He then called at several places usually frequented by his master, and afterwards went home to Woburn Place. He has frequently been stolen, but always returns, sometimes in sad plight, with a broken cord round his neck, and with signs of ill-usage; but still he contrives to escape from the dog-stealers."

I once took a favourite terrier with me to a house I had hired in Manchester Street. He had never been in London before. While the carriage was unloading in which the dog had been conveyed, he was missed, and I could hear nothing of him for nearly a fortnight; at the end of that time he found his way back to the house, with a short cord round his neck, which he had evidently gnawed off. How he came to find his way back is not a little to be wondered at. His joy on seeing me again I cannot forget. Poor Peter! when he got old, and my rides became too long for him, he pretended to be lame after accompanying me a short distance, and would then trot back without any appearance of lameness.

The following anecdote proves the kind disposition of a terrier. A kitten, only a few hours old, had been put into a pail of water, in the stable-yard of an inn, for the purpose of drowning it. It had remained there for a minute or two, until it was to all appearance dead, when a terrier bitch, attached to the stables, took the kitten from the water, and carried it off in her mouth. She suckled and watched over it with great care, and it throve well. The dog was at the same time suckling a puppy about ten weeks old, but which did not seem at all displeased with the intruder.

I had once an opportunity of witnessing the sense of a terrier. I was riding on Sunbury Common, where many roads diverge, when a terrier ran up, evidently in pursuit of his master. On arriving at one of the three roads, he put his nose to the ground and snuffed along it; he then went to the second, and did the same; but when he came to the third, he ran along it as fast as he could, without once putting down his nose to the ground. This fact has been noticed by others, but I never before witnessed it myself.

At Dunrobin Castle, in Sutherlandshire (then the seat of the Marquis of Stafford now of the Duke of Sutherland), there was to be seen, in May 1820, a terrier bitch nursing a brood of ducklings. She had a litter of whelps a few weeks before, which were taken from her and drowned. The unfortunate mother was quite disconsolate till she perceived the brood of ducklings, which she immediately seized and carried to her lair, where she retained them, following them out and in with the greatest care, and nursing them, after her own fashion, with the most affectionate anxiety. When the ducklings, following their natural instinct, went into the water, their foster-mother exhibited the utmost alarm; and as soon as they returned to land she snatched them up in her mouth, and ran home with them. What adds to the singularity of this circumstance is, that the same animal when deprived of a litter of puppies the year preceding, seized two cock-chickens, which she reared with the like care she bestows upon her present family. When the young cocks began to try their voices, their foster-mother was as much annoyed as she now seems to be by the swimming of the ducklings, and never failed to repress their attempts at crowing.

The foreman of a brickmaker, at Erith in Kent, went from home in company with his wife, and left her at the Plough at Northend with his brother, while he proceeded across the fields to inspect some repairs at a cottage. In about an hour after his departure, his dog, a small Scotch terrier, which had accompanied him, returned to the Plough, jumped into the lap of his mistress, pawed her about, and whined piteously. She at first took no particular notice of the animal, but pushed him from her. He then caught hold of her clothes, pulled at them repeatedly, and continued to whine incessantly. He endeavoured, also, in a similar way to attract the attention of the brother. At last all present noticed his importunate anxiety, and the wife then said she was convinced something had happened to her husband. The brother and the wife, with several others, went out and followed the dog, who led them through the darkness of the night, which was very great, to the top of a precipice, nearly fifty feet deep; and standing on the bank, held his head over, and howled in a most distressing manner. They were convinced that the poor man had fallen over; and having gone round to the bottom of the pit, they found him, lying under the spot indicated by the dog, quite dead.The following anecdote is copied from a recent number of "The Field:"—

I well remember, when a boy, at Barton-upon-Humber, a certain "keel" employed in the Yorkshire corn-trade, on board which the captain had a dog, possessed of some traces of terrier blood, smooth-coated, and of a pure white colour, his neck and back adorned with stumpy bristles, which ruffled up at the slightest provocation—altogether he looked a mongrel cur enough, but he was an excellent sailor, for he attended his master on all his trading expeditions, and never deserted his ship. One day, while the keel lay in Barton Haven, the dog was lost, and great was the consternation in consequence. Diligent search was made in the town and neighbourhood, but every effort to discover the missing animal proved unavailing. Month after month passed away, the keel went and came on her accustomed avocations, and poor Keeper was forgotten—considered by his master to be dead. Judge, therefore, the man's surprise when one day steering with difficulty his vessel into Goole Harbour, which was crowded with shipping at the time, his glance suddenly fell upon his faithful and long-lost dog, buffeting the water at a considerable distance from the keel, but making eagerly towards her. By the aid of a piece of tar-rope, which was dangling round the dog's neck, and a friendly boat-hook, he was lifted quite exhausted on to the deck of his master's craft, when it became at once apparent that he had long been kept a prisoner, most probably on board a vessel, by some one who had stolen him at Barton. The cause of the poor dog's sudden reappearance was undoubtedly his having heard his master's well-remembered voice; but it is strange he should have been able to distinguish at so great a distance, and when swelling that chorus of hoarse bawling which arises from a hundred husky throats when a Yorkshire keelman is engaged forcing his craft into a crowded harbour; and it is also equally touching, that when roused by the distant sound, the poor beast should have plunged, encumbered as he was with the rope he had just burst asunder, so gallantly into the water—an element he was ill-adapted to move in, and in which his master declared he had never seen him before.