trial, in the course of conversation, we say, in the
ordinary tone of voice, and without looking at
them, 'I am sure there must be a cat somewhere
about the house,' they are instantly excited, and
search in every place for the animal, to which they bear instinctive hatred."[1]
More curious still is the following anecdote:—"Lord Combermere’s mother (Lady Cotton,) had a terrier named Viper, whose memory was so retentive that it was only necessary to repeat to him once the name of any of the numerous visitors at Combermere, and he never afterwards forgot it. Mrs. H. came on a visit there on a Saturday. Lady Combermere took the dog up in her arms, and going up to Mrs. H. said, 'Viper, this is Mrs. H.' She then took him to another newly arrived lady, and said, 'Viper, this is Mrs. B.,' and no further notice was taken. Next morning, when they went to church, Viper was of the party. Lady Cotton put a prayer-book in his mouth, and told him to take it to Mrs. H., which he did, and he then carried one to Mrs. B., at his mistress’s order."[2]
Far more interesting than the docility by which the dog acquires by practice the power of doing certain strange and unexpected things, is a sort of inherent nobleness of character, and what we can scarcely refrain from calling moral excellence, which we see in many varieties. Anecdotes of devoted attachment and faithfulness in dogs are perhaps more common than many others; but these qualities sometimes assume unusual phases. How delicately chivalrous must have been the feelings of the animal thus alluded to:— "A gen-
