its neck, instead of standing up straight. It is also to be noticed that the females have them as well as the males, so that they are better off than all the rest of their relations. Very often bells are fastened to the harness. The reindeer has a musical taste, and he likes their jingle. But he is rather touchy in his temper, and if his master uses the whip too freely he will fly into a passion, and turn round and attack him. The only thing then for him to do is to upset the sledge and hide himself under it. By-and-by the reindeer recovers himself, and then his master gets up and continues his journey just as if nothing had happened.

The reindeer attaches itself to man in the same way as our horses and dogs do, but in this case it is a kind of free service. It is not indebted to man for anything: set free from the sledge, it goes its own way, and finds its own supper. And in what does this supper consist? It is very simple; the whole of the winter, the reindeer lives upon nothing else but a humble plant, a kind of lichen, called the reindeer moss. You might put a rich bill of

fare before it, but it would like the moss best.

Its scent is so keen that even when the moss is buried under the snow, it can always tell where it is to be found. It sniffs about, puts its nose down, then sets to work with its hoofs, and digs and digs till it comes to the dainty morsel.

The riches of the people are reckoned, not in silver and gold, but in the number of reindeer, and some have herds of many thousands. It is, indeed, most useful to them-supplying them with all they need. Its milk is their daily food; its flesh their dainty meat for high days and holidays; living, it carries them and all they possess wherever they wish to go; and dead, there is hardly a part of it they do not turn to good use.

The benevolence of dogs generally, but of the Newfoundland variety in particular, has often excited marks of high admiration. A writer on this subject observes that he once saw a water-spaniel, unbidden, plunge into the current of a roaring sluice to save a small cur, maliciously thrown in. The same motive seemed to animate a Pomeranian dog, belonging to a Dutch vessel. This

creature sprang overboard, caught a child up, and swam ashore with it, before any person had discovered the accident.

A Yorkshire newspaper mentions a case not less humane and sagacious. A child, playing on Roach's Wharf with a Newfoundland dog belonging to his father, accidentally fell into the water. The dog immediately sprang after the child, who was only six years old, and seizing the waist of his little frock, brought him into the dock, where there was a stage, and by which the child held on, but was unable to get on the top. The dog, seeing he was unable to pull the little fellow out of the water, ran up to a yard adjoining, where a girl of nine years of age was hanging out clothes. He seized the girl by the frock, and notwithstanding her exertions to get away, he succeeded in dragging her to the spot where the child was still hanging by the hands to the stage. On the girl's taking hold of the child, the dog assisted her in rescuing the little fellow from his perilous situation; and after licking the face of the infant he had thus saved, he took a leap off the stage, and swam round to the end of the wharf, and immediately after returned with the child's hat in his mouth.

Newfoundland dogs have frequently been of service in the case of shipwreck. For instance: A vessel was driven on the beach of Lydd, in Kent. The surf was rolling furiously-eight poor fellows were crying for help, but not a boat could be got off to their assistance. At length a gentleman came on the beach, accompanied by his Newfoundland dog. He directed the attention of the animal to the vessel, and put a short stick into his mouth. The intelligent and courageous dog at once understood his meaning, sprang into the sea, and fought his way through

the waves. He could not, however, get close enough to the vessel to deliver that with which he was charged; but the crew joyfully made fast a rope to another piece of wood, and threw it towards him. He saw the whole business in an instant-he dropped his own piece, and immediately seized that which had been cast to him; and then, with a degree of strength and determination almost incredible, he dragged it through the surf, and delivered it to his master. A line of communication was thus formed, and every man on board was rescued from a watery grave.

ANECDOTES OF DOGS-THEIR SAGACITY.

indig'nity, insult.

belligerents, those who fight with interpreta'tion, meaning.

ally', a friend to assist.

each other.

circu'itous, round about.

contemptuous, shewing contempt. em'bassy, message.

possession.

pugnac'ity, readiness to fight. tractability, readiness to be taught. trust'worthiness.

Anecdotes are related of dogs seeking the assistance of neighbour dogs to punish injuries they have sustained; from which we may know that they possess a means of discovering their intentions to each other. The following is a remarkable case of this kind: A gentleman residing in Fifeshire, and not far from the city of St Andrews, was in possession of a very fine Newfoundland dog, which was remarkable alike for its tractability and its trustworthiness. At two other points, each distant about a mile, and at the same distance from this gentleman's mansion, there were two dogs, of great power, but of less tractable breeds than the Newfoundland one. One of these was a large mastiff, kept

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as a watch-dog by a farmer, and the other a staunch bulldog that kept guard over the parish mill. As each of these three was lord over all animals at his master's residence, they all had a good deal of pride and pugnacity, so that two of them seldom met without attempting to settle their respective dignities by a wager of battle.

The Newfoundland dog was of some service in the domestic arrangements, beside his guardianship of the house; for every forenoon he was sent to the baker's shop in the village, about half a mile distant, with a towel containing money in the corner, and he returned with the value of the money in bread. There were many useless and not over-civil curs in the village, as there are in too many villages throughout the country; but in ordinary the haughty Newfoundland treated this ignoble race in that contemptuous style in which great dogs are wont to treat little ones. When the dog returned from the baker's shop, he used to be regularly served with his dinner, and went peaceably on house-duty for the rest of the day.

One day, however, he returned with his coat dirtied and his ears scratched, having been subjected to a combined attack of the curs while he had charge of his towel and bread, and so could not defend himself. Instead of waiting for his dinner as usual, he laid down his charge somewhat sulkily, and marched off; and, upon looking after him, it was observed that he was crossing the inter vening hollow in a straight line for the house of the farmer, or rather on an embassy to the farmer's mastiff. The farmer's people noticed this unusual visit, and they were induced to notice it from its being a meeting of peace between those who had habitually been belligerents. After some intercourse, of which no interpretation could