ANECDOTES ABOUT DOGS.

I KNOW an anecdote about a Scotch dog who belonged to a woman named Jenny. This dog was very fond of his mistress' little babe, for he slept in the cradle with it, and watched it all day. The child, however, died, and was buried at some distance from her mother's home. After her death, the dog was missed for a whole fortnight, when the mother happened to be passing through the church-yard, and found the faithful old Scotch dog on the child's grave! It had scraped a deep hole in the earth, and was lying there in a wretchedly lean state, from starvation and grief. I have heard, too, of a soldier's dog, who followed his master through all his long marches in different countries. But there was one day a great battle, and the soldier was killed. When the victory was over, as Bonaparte was walking through the battle-field among heaps of dead men, he saw this dog; the dog had found the body of his master, and would not leave it; he rose up, and howled and cried, and then lay down again on the body. But when Bonaparte attempted to approach, the poor fellow showed his teeth, growling with a threatening look.

A French merchant set out on horseback, accompanied by his dog, on purpose to receive some money. Having settled the business, he tied the bag of money before him, and began to return home, while his faithful dog, as if he entered into his master's feelings, frisked round the horse, barked, and jumped, and seemed to participate in his joy. The merchant, after riding some miles, alighted to repose himself under an agreeable shade, and taking the bag of money in his hand, laid it down by his side under a hedge, and, on remounting, forgot it. The dog perceived this, and ran to fetch the bag; but it was too heavy for him to drag along. He then ran to his master, and by crying, barking, and howling, seemed to remind him of his mistake. The merchant understood not his language; but the assiduous creature persevered in its efforts, and after trying to stop the horse in vain, at last began to bite his heels.

The merchant at length began to fear that he was gone mad; and in crossing a brook, he turned back to look if the dog would drink, but the animal continued to bark and bite with greater violence than before.

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Mercy!" cried the afflicted merchant, "it must be so; my poor dog is certainly mad; I must kill him. Oh, could I find any one to · perform this cruel office for me! But there is no time to lose; I myself may become the victim if I spare him."

pocket, and with a

He turned away

With these words he drew a pistol from his trembling hand, took aim at his faithful servant. in agony as he fired; but his aim was too sure. The poor animal fell wounded, and, weltering in his blood, still endeavored to crawl towards his master, as if to tax him with ingratitude. The merchant could not bear the sight; he spurred on his horse, with a heart full of sorrow, when he suddenly missed his money. "Ah !" he thought, "wretch that I am! I alone am to blame! I could not comprehend my faithful friend, and I have sacrificed him. He only wished to inform me of my mistake."

Instantly he turned his horse, and went off at a full gallop to the place where he had stopped. He saw, with half-turned eyes, the scene where the tragedy was acted; he perceived the traces of

blood as he proceeded; he was oppressed and distracted, but in vain did he look for his dog; he was not to be seen on the road. At

last he arrived at the spot where he had alighted. But what were his sensations! His heart was ready to bleed. The poor dog, unable to follow his dear master, had determined to consecrate his last moments to his service. He had crawled, all bloody as he was, to the forgotten bag, and in the agonies of death lay watching beside t. When he saw his master, he still testified his joy by the wag. ging of his tail. He could do no more; he tried to rise, but his strength was gone. The vital tide was ebbing fast; even the ca resses of his master could not prolong his fate for a few moments. He stretched out his tongue to lick the hand that now was fondling him in the agonies of regret, as if to seal forgiveness of the deed that had deprived him of life. He then cast a look of kindness on his master, and closed his eyes in death.

There was a dog coming across the moors, in England, one wintry night, with his drunken master. The poor man walked some distance, and then, being too tipsy to walk any further, he lay down in the snow, by the side of a river, to sleep. In the morning, when he awoke, he found that his dog had preserved his life. The shrewd fellow, knowing that his master would certainly be frozen to death, had been lying on his breast all night, so that by the heat of his body, he might keep his master's blood in circulation; and what was more, in order to protect the other parts of his body, the dog had scraped the snow all round him, so as to form a wall which should protect his limbs from the wind.

A GOOD RULE.

A MAN who is very rich now, was very poor when he was a boy. When asked how he got his riches, he replied: "My father taught me never to play till my work was finished, and never to spend money until I had earned it. If I had but half an hour's work in a day, I must do that the first thing. And after this I was allowed to play; and then I could play with much more pleasure than if I had the thought of an unfinished task before my mind. I early formed the habit of doing everything in time, and it soon became perfectly easy to do so. It is to this I owe my prosperity."

VOL. III.

2*

JY

WHILE crossing the Atlantic, I several times encountered the Stormy Petrel. He is a web-footed bird, as you are probably aware, and lives the greater portion of his time on the water. It is a common belief among sailors, that petrels are birds of ill omen. They think that they are certain harbingers of a storm; and it is on this account that these birds get their name of stormy petrel. Sailors, however, never call them by this name. In their dialect, they are called Mother Carey's Chickens, for what reason I have not been able to find out.

It is a great treat to a man, who has been several days on the ocean, to get a sight of half a dozen of these stormy petrels. The truth is, a sea life gets amazingly dull after a time. You cannot read much. Promenading gets to be stale sport. You look around your vessel, and see nothing but water, water, water. The prospect becomes tame. You have too much of it. Then if you can see a ship, or a whale, or a porpoise, some of Mother Carey's chickens, or even a few gulls, it relieves the monotony of the voyage a good deal. I am sure I took a great deal of interest in the petrels that followed

our steamer. They went through with such a variety of evolutions, so rapidly, and continued them so long without resting, that I used to wonder why they did not dip down exhausted under water.

"Up and down, up and down,

From the base of the wave to the billow's crown,

Amid the plashy and feathery foam,

The stormy petrel finds a home

A home, if such a place can be,

For her who lives on the wide, wide sea,

On the craggy ice, in the frozen air,

And only seeketh her rocky lair,

To warm her young, and teach them to spring,
At once o'er the waves, on their stormy wing."

On some of the rocky shores of England, against which the Atlantic waves are constantly dashing, the stormy petrel builds its nest. Sometimes it selects for its family a crevice in the rock, and it is not unfrequently known to choose for this purpose the burrow of the rat or the rabbit. There, in that lonely and desolate spot, the mother bird sits, uttering a low, purring noise, as if trying to cheer her solitude.

Mr. Hewitson gives an interesting account of these birds, as he has seen them in some of the Shetland islands, during the period when they are raising their young. "During the day," says this writer, "the old birds remain within their holes, and when most other birds are gone to rest, they issue forth in great numbers, spreading themselves far over the surface of the sea. The fishermen then meet them very numerously, and though they had not previously seen one, are sure to be surrounded by them, on throwing pieces of bread overboard."

It did not appear to me that these birds came around our ship oftener in a storm, or just before a storm, than at any other time. I think it quite likely that the notions of sailors in respect to this matter, like many others which they hold, had their origin in superstition. No doubt the object of the birds in following a ship is to pick up such morsels of food as are thrown overboard. It is a singular fact, which I first became acquainted with on my passage from