tland great
attention is paid to the breeding of this dog, and to breaking him in
for driving and tending cattle, which he does with great intelligence;
indeed his sagacity in everything is uncommonly great, and he is very
trusty. These dogs bite very keenly, and always make their attack at
the heels of cattle, who, on this account, having no defence against
them, are quickly compelled to run.

The cur has long and somewhat deservedly obtained a very bad name as a
bully and a coward; and certainly his habit of barking at everything
that passes, and flying at the heels of the horse, renders him often a
very dangerous nuisance. He is, however, valuable to the cottager; he
is a faithful defender of his humble dwelling; no bribe can seduce him
from his duty; and he is a useful and an effectual guard over the
clothes and scanty provisions of the labourer, who may be working in
some distant part of the field. All day long he will lie upon his
master's clothes seemingly asleep, but giving immediate warning of the
approach of a supposed marauder. He has a propensity, when at home, to
fly at every horse and every strange dog; and of young game of every
kind there is not a more ruthless destroyer than the village cur.

The following story is strictly authentic:--"Not long ago a young man,
an acquaintance of Lord Fife's coachman, was walking, as he had often
done, in his lordship's stables at Banff. Taking an opportunity when
the servants were not regarding him, he put a bridle into his pocket.
A Highland cur that was generally about the stables observed the
theft, and immediately began to bark at him; and when he got to the
stable door would not let him pass, but held him fiercely by the leg
to prevent him. As the servants had never seen the dog act thus
before, and the same young man had been often with them, they could
not imagine what could be the reason of the dog's conduct. However,
when they perceived the end of a valuable bridle peeping out of the
young man's pocket they were able to account for it, and on his giving
it up the dog let go his hold and allowed him to pass."

"I recollect," says Mr. Hall, "when I passed some time at the Viscount
Arbuthnot's at Hatton, in the parish of Marykirk, one of his
lordship's estates, that when the field-servants went out one morning
they found a man whom they knew, and who lived a few miles' distance,
lying on the road a short way from the stable with a number of
bridles, girths, &