is naturalized in most houses, and though of almost endless variety, in every distinct breed, he shows a peculiar aptitude for the society of man. Dogs when wild herd together, but they seem naturally disposed to leave their own race to associate with man whenever they have an opportunity; and if they receive any sort of protection they never desert him. In some parts of the world Dogs are to be seen in a half wild state, frequenting cities and towns, although the property of no person. Here they perform the wretched office of scavengers; and in Lisbon, Constantinople, and in some cities of India which I have visited, they prove of the greatest value in disposing of the filth, which would inevitably produce pestilence but for their assistance. Most of our readers may know that it is the custom of many of the castes of Hindoos to throw the bodies of their deceased relations into the sacred stream of the Ganges; where they float upon the surface, exhibiting a loathsome sight to the traveller. Many are destroyed by the alligators, and more by the vultures, and other birds of prey; one or two of which are commonly seen perched on the carcase as it glides along. But when it reaches the shore, the Dogs immediately claim their part; and I have seen a company of them dragging the body limb from limb, while the birds stood by waiting till they were satisfied. These Dogs, half wild, breed with the jackals, a species of foxes, which roam in vast droves throughout India; and in some countries it is related that these mongrels have been known to attack travellers, when severely pressed by hunger. The Dog, when domesticated, entirely changes his character, and retains little of his native fierceness, but for the service of his master. On such occasions the smallest of the race is invested with surprizing courage; and instances of their inflexible spirit in defence of the person and property of their owners are familiar to all our readers. I will mention but one; the story is perfectly well authenticated. A gentleman of noble family in France had the misfortune to possess a younger brother who, by the indulgence of dissolute habits, fell into the most abandoned company, and lost his place in that society to which by birth he belonged. The elder brother having occasion to make a distant journey, left the care of the family mansion to a trusty female servant, who being left entirely alone, and fearful that a valuable service of plate might tempt some daring robber to attack the house, she prevailed on the butcher of the village to allow his Dog to sleep in the hall. The following night she was suddenly awakened from her sleep by a loud noise; shrieks were heard, intermingled with the loud barking and growling of the mastiff; a struggle seemed to follow, and all afterwards was still. She dared not quit her chamber, but watched the return of day in a state of mind which may be readily imagined. When morning ap peared, she silently crept down stairs, when the first sight which presented itself was her master's brother lying dead in the hall, mise ably mangled by the Dog, who stood over the body, watching the features with intense vigilance; nor was it until the arrival of the butcher that he could be prevailed on to quit the spot. I remember seeing some years ago, at Cadiz, a favourité poodle Dog with General Graham, now Lord Lynédoch, whose story deserves to be recorded. The General told us this Dog was found on the field of battle lying on the body of a French officer who had been killed, and that nothing less than main force could separate the animal from his deceased master; biting all who came near, and using the most violent struggles to cling to the body: but when at last the Dog was conveyed away, he suddenly transferred to his Lordship the same keenness of attachment. He watched every movement of his person, never quitted him for an instant, and appeared jealous of any interruption to those attentions which the General lavished on him. I have a picture of an old admiral of my family, which is seldom shewn to my friends without their being compelled to listen to a remarkable proof of the fidelity of the likeness, as well as of the Dog to which the story relates. The Admiral had a favourite spaniel, which at his death was bequeathed to a gentleman, who came to my father's house at a considerable period (I think two years) afterwards, to see this picture of his old friend. The Dog accompanied him, and the picture being brought down from an upper room, was no sooner placed on the sofa, than the spaniel leaped with his paws against the frame, looked wistfully up at his late master's face, barked and whined, and expressed in the most unequivocal manner his happiness at his re-appearance. We have an old saying, when man and wife quarrel, that they live like dog and cat; but what will my readers say, when I give them an instance of dog and cat becoming man and wife? I believe in my conscience that dogs and cats would live together upon excellent terms, but for the evil suggestions of wicked boys, and still more wicked men, who foment these jealousies to make themselves a wretched sport, and find a savage delight in hunting a cat, with some ill-instructed cur, who ignorantly partakes of the leaven of his master's brutality. When dogs and cats are left to themselves there is none of this mutual hatred. They will associate with the utmost cordiality; and I well remember my old friend Argus, whom I so lately introduced to public notice, had a particular partiality for a black cat, which commonly made her bed upon his side, as he lay before the fire. But now to my story, to prove a still more tender alliance between dog and cat. When I was at Minorca in the Mediterranean, about the year 1813, I was shewn at the house of Mr. Hargrave, the British Consul at that. Island, the offspring of a dog and cat, which partook very completely of the nature of each. At first sight it might be mistaken for a dog, from its general figure; but on a slight examination, it was found to have the feet, the claws, teeth, and ears of a cat, though I think its demeanour was more like that of a dog. It was whelped in the house, with one other, which was a perfect kitten, and bore no resemblance to this which was born a few minutes before it; and it is remarkable that the cat from the moment of its birth shewed a decided preference of this little monster to her other offspring. She brought it in her mouth into the parlour, where the family were sitting, and continued her partiality up to the time I saw it, when it was perhaps three months old. I understand it was afterwards presented to the physician of the Fleet, by whom it was brought to England and placed in the possession of Mr. Brookes, the celebrated anatomist, and probably is still living. The sagacity of dogs is admirably directed by the monks of St. Bernard on the Alps, towards the preservation of persons lost in the snow. These monks, about twenty in number, have a revenue of nearly five thousand pounds sterling per annum, derived from lands, and from voluntary contributions, which they devote entirely to the service of travellers crossing these mountains, receiving every one who presents himself at their gates with the warmest hospitality. A part of their establishment consists of ten or twelve noble dogs of the mastiff breed, which are trained to follow the track of strangers who have lost their way. Such is the wonderful delicacy of their scent that the monks declare these dogs have frequently discovered them when buried twenty feet beneath the surface. The danger of traversing these elevated regions arises from the fall of avalanches, which are prodigious masses of snow and ice, intermingled with earth, and rocks and trees, which breaking away suddenly from the precipices, descend into the vallies with tremendous violence, sweeping every thing before them, The moment an alarm is given, the monks issue from their convent with guides and dogs, who explore the pass in search of any unfortunate sufferers, and often have the happiness of rescuing them from their perilous condition when hopeless of escape. One of these dogs, well known to many of our countrymen, (who like ourselves have crossed the Alps,) was distinguished by an honorary medal about his neck in memory of his having at various times saved from destruction, no less than twenty-two persons. This noble animal perished in the cause of humanity four years ago, on the following melancholy occasion :— The Piedmontese courier arrived at St. Bernard in a severe season, anxious to make his way to the little village of St. Pierre in the valley below, where dwelt his wife and children. The good monks in vain strove to deter him from the attempt. The man was resolute; his heart yearned after his family; and finding all remonstrances fruitless, they sent with him two guides, with this celebrated dog, and one other to assist him in his way. They had scarce quitted the convent, when the sudden descent of two avalanches at the same instant overwhelmed them all; and to aggravate the distress, the family and friends of the poor courier, amounting to ten persons, anxious for his fate, endeavouring at the same time to make their way up to St. Bernard, in quest of him, were involved in the same destruction. The bodies of those unfortunate strangers who have perished, when discovered by the dogs, are deposited in sacks, to the number of perhaps 60 or 80, in a small hut beneath a rock a few yards from the convent, where the monks exhibit them to those who come to seek intelligence of their lost friends; and such is the temperature of the climate, that the features retain their firmness at the distance of two years. Another noble breed of dogs I have myself seen with equal admiration in several parts of Spain. These are employed in protecting the merino flocks from the nightly attacks of the wolves. They are of immense size, a species of mastiff. They wear collars armed' with large spikes several inches long, to defend them from the jaws of their terrible enemy, by which means they commonly have the advantage in the conflict, and lay the wolf at their feet. It is very pleasing to observe the care and tenderness with which these merino dogs attend the flocks. The Spanish shepherds are more merciful than our English drovers, who are proverbially brutal. They never train them as our drovers do to worry the sheep; but confiding the flock to their charge, the shepherd walks in front leading his sheep (in the true Scriptural phrase,) while the dogs cheer them with their voice, preserve them from straggling, and guard them from every attack. I take but little interest in the many stories of learned dogs, not from any doubt of their surprising attainments, (many of which we have witnessed,) but because I know these accomplishments are acquired by the practice of the most cruel contrivances. Beating, starving, and preventing sleep, are the usual modes of education for these unhappy beings; and I never yet saw a learned dog, or a learned pig, or any such gifted quadruped, that my imagination did not wander back to the period of his discipline, and grieve to think so much cruelty was expended to so idle a purpose. After all, the ordinary sagacity of all quadrupeds is much more admirable than any tricks which may be taught them; and the attentive observance of these beautiful marks of instinct implanted by the hand of the Creator, is a thousand times more interesting and more profitable than the most delicate and astonishing tricks to which these docile creatures may be trained. EDITOR-L. MORNING HYMN-MILTON. [The name of the illustrious author of PARADISE LOST deserves a more distinguished memorial than the slight notice which we now prefix to the following beautiful extract from that noble poem. High and deservedly high as his repu tation is now raised, it is remarkable that not only were his contemporaries little sensible of his wonderful powers of composition, but the finest poem in our lan guage, remained neglected for nearly fifty years after his death, until the superior taste of Mr. Addison obtained for it the reputation it deserved, by attracting the public attention to its extraordinary beauties. JOHN MILTON was born in London in 1608. His father was a scrivener in mean circumstances; yet he gave him a liberal education, first at St. Paul's School, and afterwards at Cambridge, from whence it is said he was expelled for some irregu larity. In religious opinious he was a rigid Presbyterian, and with these seems to have imbibed a strong prejudice against kingly government. He travelled through the Continent of Europe, enlarging his mind by observation, and collecting a vast fund of various knowledge, of which he made ample use in the splendid poetry which flowed afterwards from his pen. On his return from his travels, he received several scholars into his house in Aldersgate-street, to supply the deficiencies of his slender income. In 1649, he was made Latin Secretary to the Usurper Cromwell, and warmly defended his Republican principles in several works which he then published, having previously given to the world some of his smaller poems. About the year 1652, he lost his sight, and from that period seems to have devoted himself more earnestly to poetry as a solace to this heavy affliction. Having resolved to compose a more important poem, he deliberated long as to the choice of his subject, and when chosen proceeded with it deliberately. The first edition of PARADISE LOST appeared in 1667, the whole profits of which produced him only £15. Having afterwards undertaken at the suggestion of Ellwood, a Quaker, the poem of PARADISE REGAINED, (which it is said he himself preferred to the former) it came forth in 1671. His health began soon after to decline, and gradually sinking under severe attacks of the gout, he expired at his house in Bunhill Fields, in 1674, at the age of 66. Milton was thrice married, and left three daughters, whom he was accustomed to employ in reading to him, and in writing down his verses as they were composed. This wonderful man well knew the extent of his own extraordinary capacity and acquirements, yet it is pleasing to observe, that he depended not on these for the success of his poetical labours. He says, "This is not to be obtained but by devout prayer to the Eternal Spirit that can enrich with all utterance and knowledge, and sends out his Seraphim with the hallowed fire of his altar, to touch and purify the lips of whom he pleases."-We can quote no sentiment from his writings more honourable to his memory.] THESE are thy glorious works, Parent of good, Thus wond'rous fair! Thyself how wond'rous then! In these thy lowest works: yet these declare Him first, him last, him midst and without end! Sure pledge of day, that crown'st the smiling morn |