from inevitable death.

Dogs have a capacity to act upon excitements of an artificial nature. A
dog, in Paris, at the commencement of the revolution, was known to
musicians by the name of Parade, because he regularly attended the
military at the Tuileries, stood by and marched with the band. At night
he went to the opera, and dined with any musician who intimated, by
word or gesture, that his company was asked; yet always withdrew from
any attempt to be made the property of any individual.

The Penny Magazine furnishes a still more singular instance of the
desire of excitement, in a dog which, for several years, was always
present at the fires in London. Some years ago, a gentleman residing a
few miles from London, in Surrey, was roused in the middle of the night
by the intelligence that the premises adjoining his house of business
were on fire. The removal of his furniture and papers, of course,
immediately called his attention; yet, notwithstanding this, and the
bustle that is ever incident to a fire, his eye every now and then
rested on a dog, whom, during the progress of the devouring element, he
could not help noticing, running about, and apparently taking a deep
interest in what was going on--contriving to keep himself out of every
body's way, and yet always present amidst the thickest of the stir.

When the fire was got under, and the gentleman had leisure to look
about him, he again observed the dog, who, with the firemen, appeared
to be resting from the fatigues of duty, and was led to make inquiries
respecting him. Stooping down, and patting the animal, he addressed a
fireman near him, and asked him if the dog were his.

"No, sir," replied the man, "he does not belong to me, nor to any one
in particular. We call him the firemen's dog."

"The firemen's dog? Why so? Has he no master?"

"No, sir; he calls none of us master, though we are all of us willing
to give him a night's lodging, and a pennyworth of meat; but he won't
stay long with any of us. His delight is to be at all the fires of
London, and, far or near, we generally find him on the road as we are
going along; and sometimes, if it is out of town, we give him a lift. I
don't think that there has been a fire for these two or three years
past which he has not been at."

Three years after this conversation, the same gentleman was again
called up in the night to a fire in the village where he resided, and,
to his surprise, he again met "the firemen'