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BY T. FULLER, ESQ. 



In "The Naturalist" for March, Mr. Round has drawn attention to 

 subject. To persons familiar with animals no feature in physiology is so 

 full of interest, and with minds inclining to thoughts in this direction there 

 is no lack of incidents abounding with pleasing reflections. Numerous 

 instances have come within my knowledge, especially with horses and dogs, 

 and having remarked a decided difference in the character of the sympathy 

 as respects these two animals, I am induced to trouble the readers of "The 

 Naturalist" with the following observations: — 



The sympathy of the dog is of a higher order than that of the horse; 

 he is the friend and companion of man, for whose society he forsakes that 

 of his own species. Who has not observed the devotion manifested by 

 the dog to his owner? With eyes intent upon, and following every motion 

 of his beloved master, he seeks to attract attention, and is overjoyed at 

 the slightest notice. I have frequently seen sportsmen enjoying themselves 

 at the fireside after a day's exertion, their dogs lying at their feet to all 

 appearance asleep; but it is soon seen as the events of the day are talked 

 over, that the animals are awake and in deep sympathy with their masters. 

 When a dog's name is mentioned he pricks up his ears and is all attention; 

 if in connection with a fault he shrinks from the censure; if in commen- 

 dation, the wagging of his tail expresses the pleasure he feels. He is never 

 so happy as when in his master's company, and if not admitted inside the 

 house, he seeks a spot affording a view of the room occupied by his master, 

 and crouched upon the ground, gazes intently upon the window, hoping for 

 a sight of the object of his affection. 



This attachment is common to all dogs, and marks the character of 

 their sympathy with man. Much has been written on the subject, and 

 instances mixed with sagacity and intelligence are constantly coming under 

 our notice. What can be more strikingly illustrative than a fact of common 

 occurrence with sheep-dogs, upon those extensive down lands in Wiltshire, 

 so well known by the name of Salisbury Plain. Flocks of sheep, num- 

 bering hundreds in each flock, pasture during the day over these wide-spread 

 downs. Towards night each shepherd collects his flock to conduct them to 

 the fold. If during the day, as frequently happens, a sheep has wandered 

 so far as to join another flock, the practised eye of the shepherd quickly 

 discovers the loss, and looking to his dog, says in his Wiltshire dialect, 

 Go and wind tin. Off starts the dog, scents around, determines without 

 hesitation the road towards the flock in which the tenant has herded, soon 

 overtakes it, dashes among the herd, singles out the lost sheep, brings him 



VOL. VII. u 



