both dog and soldiers, the gentleman to whom he belonged never inquired for him. The Cape Barracks are, like Stirling Castle, built on a height. If any of the soldiers happened to be out, and got tipsy, the dog, "Cameron," used to attend that individual in preference to all others, and manifest every anxiety to get him into barracks-pulling him by the sleeve, and so on. When it chanced that a soldier fell in the deep snow, the dog redoubled his exertions to get him home. He used to make a round of the castle daily, very often twice-in the forenoon and afternoon; calling at the gate, the guard-room, the sentries, &c., doubtless to see that all was right; and, apparently satisfied with his inspection, returning to his own quarters in the band-room. As may be supposed, he was a regular frequenter of the cook-house, where he was generally regaled with a bone from the cooks, who were all fond of "Cameron." He seemed to prefer the quarters and the company of the band, and took great delight in the music. When the band stopped, he very often lay down like a lion in their front. A handsome collar was made at Edinburgh for "Cameron," the regimental dog of the 79th Highlanders, with a suitable inscription, recording his good qualities and attachment to the regiment. I believe that he went out with the soldiers to Sebastopol, and was

actually rewarded with a medal for saving the life of his master from the attack of a Russian soldier during one of the midnight sorties.

You have probably seen Sir Edwin Landseer's picture called "Dignity and Impudence,” in which a great Newfoundland is looking calmly down upon a barking little Terrier in front of his kennel; well, I will conclude my anecdotes of the Newfoundland with a little story that might have given a hint to the painter. Dr. Abel, the lecturer on phrenology, had a fine large Newfoundland, which whenever he went out was assailed by all the little curs of the neighbourhood. "Noble," for that was his name, generally passed them by without notice; but one day a little dog was really so impertinent, barking and snapping at his heels, that the Newfoundland turned suddenly round, caught the offender with his teeth by the skin of his neck, and, taking him to the river side, deliberately dropped him into the water. After watching till the noisy little cur had had a good ducking, he plunged in, and brought him shaking and shivering to the shore. A pretty good lesson that, I think, of punishment and forbearance, especially for a dog that could not swim. It would have been difficult for a wise man to have adopted a mode of punishment more fit to meet the merits of the case-at once severe, wise, and merciful.

CHAPTER VIII.

THE WATER SPANIEL.

A small old Spaniel which had been.
His father's, whom he loved . . .
Stood howling on the brink.

BYRON.

OT much have I to say of this dog, because I have several dogs yet on my list, all anxious to receive notice. There are two kinds of Water Spaniels-one large and the other small; but both are docile, attached to their masters, and excellent swimmers. Their

hair is long and curly, and

their whole aspect very pleasing. The following anecdote was told me by a friend who knew the dog to which it relates, and can vouch for its truth.

A gentleman in Paris had a dog called Diver, a fine swimmer and a most attached friend. One day he was walking in the gardens of the Tuileries when he accidentally dropped a piece of money, and turning round missed his dog, who had a moment before been walking by his side. Not finding him he went on, and made several calls at different places, knowing that the dog would find his way home. It subsequently appeared that Diver, after waiting some time in guard of the money, evidently knowing its value, and finding his master did not return, had taken it in his mouth and carried it home. On his master's return, in the evening, his servant met him with the intelligence that the dog had appeared ill all day, having refused to eat, and lying beside his food without moving. But immediately his master appeared, the dog jumped up, laid the money which was in his mouth at his feet, and began to eat voraciously.

In such instances, observes my friend, there is surely something more than mere instinct. A dog may easily be taught tricks of this sort; but in the case mentioned his conduct was the result of his own judgment in the circumstances presented to him.

Docility, says Mr. Youatt, and affection are stamped on the countenance of the Water Spaniel, and he rivals every other breed of dog in his

attachment to his master. His work is double. He has first to find the game, and, when ordered to do so, walk behind his master till it can be advantageously reached. In both respects a welltaught Spaniel is found perfect. A more important part of his duty, however, is to find the bird after it has been shot, and to bring it to the sportsman without injuring it with his teeth, and then to wait while his master's gun is being reloaded. In all these the Water Spaniel, which, like all the rest of his tribe, was, as is evident from his name, originally bred in Spain. Our English breeds are now considered the finest in the world. Prince Arthur, the Queen's son, has one which is esteemed the best specimen of Water Spaniels now in England.