ned to go
home. The dog immediately showed great distress, and tried the same
arts to entice him on; but the man seemed resolved to go home.

At last, the dog stood upon his hind legs, put his paws upon the
man's shoulders and looked him in the face, with such a human
meaning, such a piteous expression, that the man determined to
follow him.

The dog led him, not to the cliff under which the vessel was lying,
as there she could not be seen, but to a distant place on a point
where she was visible.

Ropes were immediately obtained, the crew were all hoisted up, and
every life saved; and this was by the intelligent love of this
faithful fellow-creature--we cannot call him a brute.

These true stories were told me by Mr. W. R. of New Bedford, who
gave the name of the captain of the wrecked vessel, and said he was
sure they were true.

A fact of this kind fell once under my own observation. One night,
our dog Caesar made a barking at the door, till, at last, he brought
some one out. The dog then ran towards the road, and when he found
he was not followed, came back and barked, and then ran to the road
and back again, and so on till we understood he wanted to be
followed, and some one went with him.

Caesar immediately led the way to a ditch over which there was a
bridge without any guard. There a horse and wagon had been upset.
The wagon had fallen upon the driver in such a way that he could not
move. The men came immediately to the aid of the poor man, took him
out, put him in his wagon and new harnessed his horse, and set him
off comfortably on his way again. The dog sat by and saw it all. Who
shall say how much of the compassionate love of the good Samaritan
was in his canine heart? Who shall exactly measure and justly
estimate the joy of the other faithful, intelligent animal who saved
the crew of the wrecked vessel?

One more story of a dog I remember which is too good to be
forgotten; as it shows, not only the sagacity, but the love and
self-denial of one of these faithful creatures.

A shepherd, whose flocks were in the high pastures on the Grampian
Hills, took with him one day his little boy who was about three
years of age. They had gone some distance, when he found it
necessary, for some reason or other, to ascend the summit of one of
the hills. He thought it would be too fatiguing for the child to go
up; so he left him below with the dog, telling the little fellow to
stay there till he returned, and ch