THE GREAT DOG-SUPERSTITION 283 
uncontrolled. His sense of smell is much keener 
than ours; it is probably more to him than sight 
is to us; he lives in it, and the odours that are 
agreeable to him afford him the highest pleasure of 
which he is capable. We can do much with a dog, 
but there is a limit to what we can do; we can no 
more alter the character of his sense of smell than 
we can alter the colour of his blood. 
“The dog is a worshipper of man,” says Dr. 
Lauder Lindsay, “and is, or may be, made in the 
image of the being he worships.” That refers 
merely to the animal’s intellectual and moral 
nature; or, in other words, it is the fashionable 
“inverted or biological anthropomorphism” of the 
day, of which we shall all probably be heartily 
ashamed by and by; just now we are concerned 
with a more important matter, to wit, the dog’s 
nose. Its character may be seen even in the most 
artificial breeds, that is to say, in those which have 
most widely diverged from the parent-form and are 
entirely dependent on us, such as pugs and toy- 
terriers. The pampered lap-dog in the midst of 
his comforts has one great thorn in his side, one 
perpetual misery to endure, in the perfumes which 
please his mistress. He too is a little Venetian in 
his way, but his way is not hers. The camphor- 
wood chest in her room is an offence to him, the 
case of glass-stoppered scents an abomination. All 
fragrant flowers are as asafoetida to his exquisite 
nostrils, and his face is turned aside in very ill- 
concealed disgust from the sandal-wood box or fan. 
