titutes at once his
endowment and his responsibility. Yet this supreme power is being
perpetually modified, not only by the forces he seeks to control--whose
so-called laws he has to obey, if they are to be subjected to his use--but
also by those very creatures to whom he stands in the relation of a King.
It is here, in the animal kingdom, that the action of the dog once again
stands first; for what powers of modification and influence can transcend
those which effect a frequent and practical impression upon the actions of
this so-called King,--by appealing, as the dog often does, to man's moral
sense; by claiming love outside man's own circle, in return for love given
without stint; by calling for a wider self-sacrifice, in the light of a
trustfulness and loyalty that is exhibited here and nowhere else in Nature
in the same unfaltering degree?

The dog does all this and more, as will be shown, and by ways and
instincts that are as unfathomable as the one to which reference has just
been made.

It is time to return to the more homely matter of Dan, that instances may
be given of how, on one occasion out of many, he exhibited the possession
of the sense of direction, and also of the eye he had for country.

The writer had to make a journey to a neighbouring town by rail. The
distance as the crow flies was not more than six miles, but the railway
journey took the best part of an hour and entailed a change and waiting
at a junction. Daniel accompanied him, having never made the journey
before, or visited the junction, or the station of the town referred to.
On arrival, the writer elected to walk. Now Daniel was almost entirely
strange to towns, and, though all went well at first, he finally
succumbed to the fascinations of the streets, and disappeared. Every
means were at once taken to find him; the police station was visited, the
cab-drivers were warned, and a reward was offered. In the end, the writer
had to return without the dog, and face the reproaches of the family. A
gloom fell upon the house for the rest of the evening. But soon after ten
o'clock a bark was heard, the front door was thrown open, and Daniel
entered; in a state, it may be added, that bordered on hysterics, and
with the tail wagging the dog more violently than ever. It was seven
hours from the time he had been missed, and no light was ever thrown on
how he had accomplished the journey.

A dog's memory is proverbial. There is ample reason for believ