of dogs, says Lyell, continued unaltered throughout the whole of the stone period, but in the bronze age a larger dog was introduced, or may have been created by breeding. Remains of the animal are likewise found in the Crannoges or lake. dwellings of Ireland; his bones also are stated to have been met with sixty feet below the obelisk of Heliopolis. Beyond doubt man in his early state must have been largely indebted to these creatures for the supply of his wants, for defence from other animals, and even perhaps for the maintenance of his existence.

THE ESQUIMAUX DOG.

What the horse is to us, and the camel to the Arab, such, and even more, is the dog to the children of the ice deserts of the forlorn and frozen regions of the north. His strength, speed, and endurance alone enable that lonely race to traverse those trackless wastes shrouded in nature's pall of eternal snows, where a gale is as much dreaded by the Esquimaux as the simoom by the Bedouins in the sandy deserts of Arabia. By his acute senses he discovers for his master the wary walrus blowing in the cracks of the iceberg; the seal; and the winter cavern beneath the inclement drift, of the formidable bear. By his superior swiftness he brings the latter redoubtable beast to bay, and harasses him until he falls by the spear of the hunter. His skin is highly valued as clothing, and the flesh of the young as dainty food. The bitch litters in the hot, stifling, and filthy cabins of the Esquimaux, built of stones and moss, and the bones of the whale, narwhal, and other animals; and he is fed on the hide of the walrus (often frozen like iron and obliged to be chipped or sawn to pieces),

the refuse from seals, and such like offal. By these hardy creatures the cheery savage of the Polar ocean is whirled impetuously in his ivory and bone made sledge over the undulating snow-drifts and glistening plains with wild and reckless speed, exultingly-" nor want, nor cold his course delay." But these useful and faithful dogs undergo many cruel sufferings for and from their masters, and in some of the hazardous expeditions of the intrepid seal-hunters are forced to succumb to the pangs of famine when floated from the mainland on a pack of ice.

The dog is the only domestic animal of these people, whom he aids both in draught and in the chase; but he nevertheless receives very hard treatment from his owners. Martin says: "The Esquimaux dog is surly and obstinate, because his treatment is such as not to develop the nobler parts of his moral nature: he is a slave, ever toiling, and hardly used; subjected to want and blows, to cold and extreme fatigue; seldom, except perhaps by way of excitement in the chase, does he receive a kind word of thankful encouragement; unless indeed from the women, by whom he is uniformly better treated than by the men: it is from the women that this poor animal receives care and attention when sick or helpless, and the consequence is that the women have the complete ascendancy over his affection, and their words can prevail when the blows and threatenings of the men only excite obstinate disobedience; but let the voice of a female issue the orders, and obedience is promptly and willingly rendered."1 Woman's heart is everywhere the same!

1 W. C. L. Martin's History of the Dog. 1845.

The Esquimaux men, though possessing many good qualities, do not number consideration for their canine slave among them, and in this some Europeans are not behind them. "Poor dogs!" says M'Clintock, with a sympathy honourable to his feelings; "they have a hard life of it in these regions. Even Petersen, who is generally kind and humane, seems to fancy they must have little or no feeling: one of his theories is, that you may knock an Esquimaux dog about the head with any article, however heavy, with perfect impunity to the brutes. One of us upbraided him the other day because he broke his whip-handle over the head of a dog. • That was nothing at all, he assured us: some friend of his in Greenland found he could beat his dogs over the head with a heavy hammer, it stunned them certainly, but by laying them with their mouths open to the wind, they soon revived, got up, and ran about all right." These statements are fully paralleled by Hooper, who, in his 'Tents of the Tuski,' gives a horrible picture of the grievous cruelty these unfortunate serfs suffer. "Sometimes they turn very sulky and obstinate, and stop short in a most determined manner, either offended with their fellows, the road, or the driver, and scarcely any amount of punishment, in the regular way, will induce them to budge. If the whip is applied, they throw themselves down in the snow, howl vigorously at first, their cries gradually subsiding into a short moan at each blow; occasionally a good whipping has the desired effect, and the dog resumes its labour, but the struggle for supremacy between master and beast is often protracted and severe. I have seen men," remarks Hooper, "who knew the character of the dog they were about to punish, deliberately dispose themselves to the task, place one

foot upon their sledge, and throwing back their arms to clear their dress, rain down blow after blow upon the wretched creature, sometimes for ten minutes or a quarter of an hour continuously; it is seldom this treatment fails of success, and the beast, if subdued, becomes tractable enough for a long time: but on one occasion, Antin, a man of a particularly cold-blooded and savage nature, being displeased with the conduct of one of his dogs, quietly drew his knife, stabbed the animal in two places, unharnessed it, wiped the blade of his weapon on its coat, and proceeded on his visit to the ship without the least concern.

"When ordinary modes of chastisement have failed, the proceedings then instituted are very curious indeed. The driver gets off his sledge, seizes the dog which has misconducted itself, and makes a nice little hole in the snow, in which he arranges the unfortunate wretch's nose with the greatest care and attention to its suitable position; having thus made due preparation, he pounds away at the snout of his victim with the but-end of his whip, which is generally a piece of heavy flat ivory, in the most remorseless manner. I used, particularly on first viewing this novel punishment, to be under great fears that the noses of the poor beasts must inevitably be broken or crushed, but no such consequences ensued, nor had our remonstrances any effect; punishment had been determined on, and it was certainly administered without wavering. If the snow was too soft for the purpose, the man's foot was often placed as a support for the victim's nose. The punishment must be dreadful; the dogs know perfectly well what is coming the instant their masters touch them, and tremble in every limb: they do not attempt to

howl loudly, and when released only make an occasional short yell as they run; the most stubborn tempers are subdued in this way; no more trouble will be given in the day's drive one may be quite assured; it is a most summary way of inducing submission." This is a harrowing exposure of man's abuse of power towards his slave; it is fervently to be hoped such scenes are the exception not the rule

"The Earth is wronged by Man's oppression."

The Indians on the Mackenzie river contrast strongly with the Tuski, and, unlike the Esquimaux, will not eat the dog. Hooper mentions four men, two of whom were white, and two Indians, who had been twenty-six days on a journey and exhausted their provisions. They were obliged to kill one of their dogs, but the Indians, although starving, would not touch its flesh, their superstition holding that the dog was their brother. Perhaps religion might be a truer word to apply to such a sentiment.

Cruel oppression like the above renders even the dog ferocious a vivid scene in proof thereof occurs in the pages of Hayes' Arctic Boat Journey in the Autumn of 1854;' a striking narrative of want and hardship, and which contains many notices of the dogs of Baffin's Bay, by whom he and his companions were saved from death. Speaking of two hunters who discovered them in their forlorn hut, he says, "The Esquimaux were stirring early, and anxious to be off”—“it was snowing violently, and still blowing strongly.”— "Since they intended to loose their dogs, every line or piece of skin, or article of food, must be out of reach. The dogs were fastened by their long traces; each team being tied to a