less resemble. On the other hand again, some of our
first men are of opinion that there are now no original dogs, but that
all the packs called wild are those which have made their escape from a
state of domesticity. This is not the place to examine the merits of the
different proofs brought in favor of each argument; and I hasten to a
brief notice of some of those which subsist independently of human
assistance.

All dogs, wild or tame, walk upon their toes with a firm, elastic gait,
and their toes are not retractile. Their other external characters are
so varied, that it is impossible to give a general summary of their
colour or form; the largest on record (a Suliot, belonging to the king
of Naples), measured four feet at the shoulders; the least would
probably give a height of as many inches. All the untamed species are
lank and gaunt, their muzzles are long and slender, their eyes oblique,
and their strength and tenacity of life are almost marvellous.

The Dingo, or Australian dog, roams in packs through that vast country;
has a broad head, fierce, oblique eyes, acute muzzle; short, pointed,
erect ears; tail bushy, and never raised to more than a horizontal
position. He does not bark, but howls fearfully; is extremely sagacious,
and has a remarkable power of bearing pain. When beaten so severely as
to be left for dead, he has been seen to get up and run away. A man
proceeded to skin one, not doubting that life was extinct, and after
proceeding a little way with the operation, he left the hut to sharpen
his knife. When he returned, the poor animal was sitting up, with the
loose skin hanging over one side of his face.

The Dingos worry the cattle of the settlers, and will even eat pieces
out of them as they lie upon the ground; the leg of a sheep has been
frequently gnawed off by them. Domesticated dogs will hunt and kill
them; but show signs of great disgust afterwards, always, if they can,
plunging themselves into water, as if to get rid of the contamination
caused by such contact. One taken from his mother at six weeks old was
partially tamed; but at first he crouched down in all the darkest
corners he could find, looking at every one with aversion, and when
alone howling incessantly, especially if the moon were shining. He
became gradually reconciled to those who fed him, but to no one else. He
never gave warning of the approach of strangers, and never made an open
attack. It is remarkable that these dogs are no