The shepherd's dog of Britain is not less susceptible of training than the Alpine spaniel, and its affection for its master often wonderfully supplies the place of teaching, and inspires it with a wisdom little short of human. Instances in illustration of this are familiar to the inhabitants of mountainous districts, and the following examples, taken from Brown's Supplement to Goldsmith's Animated Nature, cannot fail to interest the reader.

"A farmer, near Brechin, having gone, during a severe snow-storm in 1798, to visit his sheep, while employed in driving them from the shelter which they had taken beneath some precipitous rocks, called Ugly-Face, was, with his dog, buried in an avalanche of snow, which fell from these rocks. He was unable to extricate himself, and fell asleep in his desolate situation; but his dog worked his way out, ran to his house, and by significant gestures, procured the assistance of some of the inmates, who, following the dog, were led to the spot where he was overwhelmed with snow. They began to dig, and by nightfall found the farmer in an erect position, quite benumbed, but life not extinguished, and being rolled in warm blankets, he soon recovered.

"About the year 1796, a farmer, at Holling, in Kent, was returning late from Maidstone market, in a state of intoxication. He went astray from the road, about half a mile from Willow-Walk, and becoming completely benumbed, he fell among the snow, in one of the coldest nights ever known. Turning on his back, he was soon overpowered with sleep, in such circumstances the usual concomitant of cold. His dog, that had followed closely after him, now scratched away the snow from about him, so as to form a protecting wall round his person, and then lay down on his master's breast, for which its shaggy coat proved a seasonable protection from the inclemency of the night, and the snow which continued to fall. the following morning, a person having gone out with the expectation of falling in with some wild fowl, had his notice attracted by the uncommon appearance, and, on coming up, the dog encouraged him, by the most significant gestures, to approach. He wiped the icy incrusta

On

tions from the face of the farmer, whom he then recognised, and had him conveyed to the nearest house in the village, where animation was soon restored."

The last instance which I give of this kind of sagacity, is abridged from the same work, and shows still more remarkable proofs of persevering attachment. Eric Runtson, an Iceland fisherman, left his home early on a December morning, to visit a friend, accompanied only by his faithful dog, Castor. When he had proceeded about five miles, he fell into a deep chasm, and alighted, unhurt, on a shelving part of the rock, about sixty feet below the surface. Castor ran about in all directions, howling piteously. He even several times made as if he would leap down, but was prevented by his master scolding him. He then whined, and looked from the brink into the chasm, as if anxious to receive his master's commands. After spending the whole day in fruitless endeavors to reach and extricate his master, a sudden thought seemed to seize him, and he darted off in the direction of home, which he reached about eleven o'clock. The inmates were asleep, but, by scratching violently at the door, he gained admittance. At first, the family apprehended nothing, but that he had left his master, and returned; but, by his refusing food, and constantly continuing to scratch Eric's younger brother, Jon, with his paw, and then to run to the door, and look back with eager and anxious yells, he at last succeeded in exciting their alarm; and, when Jon and another man dressed and followed him, he began to bark and caper about with evident joy. At one time, the tempestuous weather led them to think of retracing their steps; but Castor, on their turning back, expressed the utmost dissatisfaction, and, by pulling them by the clothes, induced them to proceed. He conducted them to the chasm where poor Eric was entombed, and, beginning to scratch, signified, by the most expressive howl, that his master was below. Eric answered to Jon's call; and, a rope being procured, he was safely drawn up, when Castor rushed to his master, and received his caresses with all the marks of external triumph and joy.

Sir Walter Scott, in a poem written on a traveller who, some years ago, was killed by falling over a precipice on Helvellyn, and whose faithful dog watched many days by his lifeless corpse, thus feelingly describes the attachment of that interesting animal:

"Dark green was that spot 'mid the brown mountain heather,
Where the pilgrim of Nature lay stretched in decay,
Like the corpse of an outcast abandoned to weather,

Till the mountain winds wasted the tenantless clay :—
Nor yet quite deserted, though lonely extended,
For faithful in death his dumb favorite attended,

The much loved remains of her master defended,
And chased the hill-fox and the raven away.

"How long didst thou think that his silence was slumber?

When the wind waved his garments how oft didst thou start?
How many long days and long nights didst thou number?
Ere he faded before thee, the friend of thy heart!
Say, oh! was it meet that, no requiem read o'er him,
No mother to weep, and no friend to deplore him,
And thou, little guardian, alone stretched before him,

Unhonor'd, the pilgrim from life should depart?”*

The more we know of this wonderful species, the greater reason shall we find to praise that beneficent Being, who gave the dog to man as his companion and friend, and the greater indignation shall we feel against the worse than brutal human beings, who, abusing the devotion of this most affectionate and docile creature, give to their half human attendants no return of kindness; but treat them with cruelty, and compensate their good offices with blows.

* [Wordsworth has also beautifully versified this touching event, in some stanzas, entitled, ‘Fidelity.'—Am. ED.]

TWELFTH WEEK-SATURDAY.

I. GEOLOGY.-ITS PHENOMENA CONSISTENT WITH THE MOSAIC ACCOUNT OF THE CREATION.

THE existence of mountains, which, in the volume on Spring, will be shown to be a most beneficent arrangement, modern geology has proved to be owing to a general disruption of the original crust of the earth. On its first formation, the surface of our globe must have been a plain, or, at least, very nearly approaching to it. The rocks and minerals of which it is now composed, are, on good grounds, believed to have been originally in a liquid state; and, whether fire or water were the agents employed, or if, what is more probable, both of them were employed, either separately or together, the strata of the earth must, by the law of gravitation, have been formed horizontally, and the surface must then have been level. This introduces us to a most curious and interesting subject; and I intend to devote a few papers to a rapid view of the discoveries of the geologist; but before entering on this alluring field, it seems proper to advert to the attack which has been made by infidel writers on the Mosaic account of the creation; that this matter being put on its proper footing, we may be enabled to proceed with safety and freedom.

These writers allege, that there are incontrovertible proofs of the existence of the world before the era assigned to the Mosaic creation; and that all geological appearances concur in bearing evidence, that many existences, both organized and unorganized, instead of being created in six days, have been successively produced and remodelled in the course of many hundreds, perhaps thousands, of ages.

Now, granting all this to be distinctly established, for I do not think it necessary to dispute the general view

thus stated, much less am I inclined to call in question the facts by which it is supported, there are two ways by which these appearances have been attempted to be reconciled to the Mosaic account. The first, and ordinary way, is, by supposing that the six days, mentioned by Moses as the period in which Creative power was exerted, may be interpreted to mean so many ages of indefinite extent. And in support of this opinion, there are not wanting plausible arguments. The word day is assuredly often taken in Scripture to signify an age or an era; thus, we read of "an acceptable day," and "a day of vengeance," and, still more distinctly, of "the latter day," "the day of judgement," and "the day of salvation,” all which expressions are evidently meant to indicate, not a natural day of twenty-four hours, but a peculiar period in the actings of God's providence. Again, it has been argued, that the various works assigned to each day, when taken for an era, correspond, with wonderful exactness, to the geological indications; the chaos, when all the elements were in a mixed and turbid state; the separation of the principle of light; the subsidence of the waters, and the appearance of dry ground; the creation of the vegetable kingdom; then of the inhabitants of the sea; then of the inhabitants of the land; and, last of all, of man,-seem to follow in the precise order of succession which the various periods marked by the labors of the geologist appear very clearly to sanction. All this might appear to be satisfactory, were it not that the sacred writer seems anxiously to preclude the possibility of such an explanation, by ending the account of each day's operation in these words, "And the evening and the morning were the first-(the second, the third, &c.)-day," a mode of expression which seems very emphatically to confine the duration of the work, in each instance, to a natural day, or a revolution of the earth on its axis, although this, doubtless, may then have been much more tardy than it is at present.

This method of getting quit of the difficulty, seeming, therefore, to be untenable, we are bound to receive the Mosaic account of the creation in the natural and un