I was only a few weeks old, my father had given to him a little
white poodle, which he called Dash. He was about my own age, and we grew
up together. In those days, children were rocked in the old-time cradle,
and I, like other babies, had a cradle. When I was a few months old, on
one occasion I was left asleep in my cradle, and no one was in the room
but Dash and myself. Having been disturbed in my sleep, I woke up and
cried, and Dash, seeing the condition of things, came to the cradle,
and, rearing on his hind feet, rocked it with his paws, and whined and
barked until I had gone to sleep again. My mother has often told me of
this, and assured me that he had never been taught to do this, but
always after practised it, not only with myself, but with my younger
brothers and sisters, until, at the age of thirteen, he came to an
untimely death at the hands of a bull-dog, whose name and tribe I have
never ceased to hate. I gave Dash the burial that he deserved, and had
a long procession of mourning children follow his remains to the grave,
where I delivered the funeral sermon, and we all sung a hymn. About
three years ago, in company with an older sister, I visited the spot for
the first time in nearly thirty years, but no sign of the little grave
remained.

What else but reason could have prompted this act? The dog had seen it
done by human beings, and had noted the result. Whether his whining was
intended as singing or not, I am unable to say, but from my recollection
of seeing him do this with the younger children, I believe that it was
intended to soothe or entertain, and his barking to call some one into
the room.

A farmer by the name of Taylor, living in East Tennessee, some years ago
owned two very fine collies, and they had been trained to drive the
cattle and sheep about the farm, to drive strange cattle away from the
premises, to guard the gates or gaps opened temporarily for hauling
about the farm, and many similar duties. On one occasion, in haymaking
time, as night was approaching, the waggon made its last homeward trip
for the day, and the men working in the meadow prepared to go home. The
driver of the waggon, supposing the men from the meadow were following
and would close the gates, left them open, and one of these was between
the corn-field and a pasture containing a number of cattle. The men,
however, did not follow the waggon, but took a near way across the
field, and the gate was left open. While the