The Menageries ...: Quadrupeds

stretching himself out stiff, as if he had been dead, he suffered himself to be drawn and dragged from place to place, as it was his part to do; but afterwards, when he knew it to be time, he began first gently to stir, as if newly awaked out of some profound sleep, and lifting up his head, looked about him, after such a manner as astonished all the spectators." There was even a more curious exhibition of this description at Paris, in 1817. The English were accustomed to employ this docility to some advantage in their domestic arrangements; but the race of Turnspits, a long-backed, short-legged dog, has ceased to exist, except as an occasional curiosity. Machinery has here superseded animal power, as in many other cases. Asses are seldom, now, put to walk in a wheel to raise water, as we have seen at Carisbrook Castle, in the Isle of Wight. The dancing dogs of the showman, too, are almost extinct; though, now and then, his pipe and tabor are heard in some obscure street of London ; and boys gather around to wonder at the sight of dogs turning a spinning-wheel, and dancing a cotillon; and they think of the story of "Mother Hubbard" as a profound truth in natural history.

We have alluded in Chapter II. to those exhibitions of remarkable attachment between animals of opposite natures, which are sometimes so interesting in menageries. These attachments are more frequent with dogs than with other animals—probably because they are more capable of attachment. The friendship between dogs and horses is too common to attract notice; but every now and then we hear of an attachment where we might have expected an antipathy. Dr. Fleming, in his interesting book " The Philosophy of Zoology," quotes, from Montague's supplement to his Ornithological Dictionary, the following account of a singular friendship which subsisted between a China goose and a pointer, who had killed the gander. "Ponto (for that was the dog's name) was most severely punished for the misdemeanour, and had the dead bird tied to his neck. The solitary goose became extremely distressed for the loss of her partner and only companion; and, probably, having been attracted to the dog's kennel by the sight of her dead mate, she seemed determined to persecute Ponto by her constant attendance and continual vociferations; but after a little time a strict amity and friendship subsisted between these incongruous animals. They fed out of the same trough, lived under the same roof, and in the same straw-bed kept each other warm; and when the dog was taken to the field, the inharmonious lamentations of the goose for the absence of her friend were incessant."

We have one anecdote of a similar nature to add, from our own observation. We recorded the circumstance as follows, at the time when it was made known to us in 1823. We were lately visiting in a house where a very pleasing and singular portrait attracted our observation: it was that of a young lady represented with a partridge perched upon her shoulder, and a dog with his feet on her arm. We recognised it as a representation of the lady of the house, but were at a loss to account for the odd association of her companions. She observed our surprise, and at once gave the history of the bird and the spaniel. They were both, some years back, domesticated in her family. The dog was an old parlour favourite who went by the name of Tom. The partridge was more recently introduced from France, and answered to the equally familiar name of Bill. It was rather a dangerous experiment to place them together, for Tom was a lively and spirited creature, very apt to torment the cats, and to bark at any object which roused his instinct. But the experiment was tried; and Bill, being very tame, did not feel much alarm at his natural enemy. They were, of course, shy at first, but this shyness gradually wore off: the bird became less timid, and the dog less bold. The most perfect friendship was at length established between them. When the hour of dinner arrived, the partridge invariably flew on his mistress's shoulder, calling with that shrill note which is so well known to sportsmen; and the spaniel leapt about with equal ardour. One dish of bread and milk was placed on the floor, out of which the spaniel and bird fed together; and after their social meal, the dog would retire to a corner to sleep, while the partridge would nestle between his legs, and never stir till his favourite awoke. Whenever the dog accompanied his mistress out, the bird displayed the utmost disquietude till his return; and once, when the partridge was shut up by accident during a whole day, the dog searched about the house with a mournful cry which indicated the strength of his affection. The friendship of Tom and Bill was at length fatally terminated. The beautiful little dog was stolen; and the bird from that time refused all food, and died on the seventh day, a victim to his grief.

The stories of attachment between lions and dogs are well authenticated; and in several instances the stronger animal has afforded a protection to his trembling victim, which has ripened into friendship. In a well-regulated travelling menagerie, belonging to a person named Atkins, we saw, in the autumn of 1828, a spaniel-bitch, affording sustenance to a young tiger that was sick, and not expected to live, and -which she evidently tended with affectionate solicitude. The following is a representation of this singular pair.

We cannot quit the subject of dogs without adverting to that lamentable circumstance, their occasional madness. This disease is not common to dogs in all climates; according to Mr. Barrow, canine madness is unknown in South Africa. Other temporary diseases are oftentimes mistaken for this fearful malady; and we, therefore, subjoin the symptoms of hydrophobia, as described by MM. Chaussier and Orfila, who have written a scientific work on this disorder:—

"A dog at the commencement of madness is sick, languishing, and more dull than usual. He seeks obscurity, remains in a corner, does not bark, but growls continually at strangers, and, without any apparent cause, refuses to eat or drink. His gait is unsteady, nearly resembling that of a man almost asleep. At the end of three or four days, he abandons his dwelling, roving continually in every direction: he walks or runs as if tipsy, and frequently falls. His hair is bristled up; his eyes haggard, fixed, and sparkling; his head hangs down; his mouth is open and full of frothy slaver; his tongue hangs out; and his tail between his legs. He has, for the most part, but not always, a horror of water, the sight of which seems, generally, to redouble his sufferings. He experiences from time to time transports of fury, and endeavours to bite every object which presents itself, not even excepting his master, whom indeed he begins not to recognise. Light and lively colours greatly increase his rage. At the end of thirty or thirty-six hours he dies in convulsions." After various remedies for this terrible malady have been tried in vain, it seems now agreed that cutting or burning out the bitten part is the only one to be relied on.

The very extensive varieties of the dog, which have been produced by domestication and other causes, have led naturalists into great differences of opinion, as to the original stock from which these varieties have sprung. Wild dogs, as they are at present found, are, in most cases, dogs without masters;