The Jasper Weekly Courier

Amazing Performance of French Dogs.

The surprising intelligence of a pair of dogs owned by a M. Rouil, is related in Our Dumb Animals: A large table was placed in the center of the room, and on it were laid some cards on which the letters of the alphabet were printed in large capitals. M. Rouil then told Blanche to spell fromage (cheese). She immediately picked out an F, R, and O, and then seemed to hesitate. "You only give us three letters; there are seven," said M. Rouil. Blanche then found M, A, G, E, and the word was complete.

She then performed the remarkable feat of correcting a mistake in orthography. Mr. Hamerton wrote the word meson on the slate instead of maison (house), and, on being asked where the error was, Blanche pointed to the letter "E," and then picked out an "A" and an "I."

In spite of her success, the animal seemed to accomplish her work with considerable effort, and made sounds of complaint. The authority of her master, although exercised with great gentleness, seemed irresistible as that of a magnetizer over his subject. Perceiving this, Mr. Hamerton suggested giving her a rest: and she was allowed to retire to a corner and enjoy some bonbons, while Lyda took her place on the table. Some numbers were now substituted for the letters of the alphabet. Several problems were written on the slate, which Lyda apparently solved without difficulty.

Her master then proposed trying a little mental arithmetic, and said, "If you had ten pieces of sugar, and met ten Prussian dogs, how many pieces would you, a French dog, give to each Prussian?" Lyda replied to this question by pointing out the zero with great energy.

"And how," said the master, "if you were to share with me?" Lyda took the figure 5 and gave it to him. M. Rouil then went out for a moment, while Mr. Hamerton asked the dog for several numbers successively, which she brought without the slightest hesitation.

Blanche then came forward, and a pack of playing cards was spread on the table, M. Rouil holding another pack in his hand, and asking the company to choose a card from it. Without making any mistake, Blanche immediately brought the corresponding card from the pack on the table.

She then played a game of cards with a young lady, and was beaten, after which she took refuge in a corner, with an air of deep humiliation.

The most surprising feat of all came next. A pack of cards was spread in the next room, and the door nearly closed. M. Rouil told one of the guests to ask the dog, in a whisper, to fetch any card he chose to name. The ace of spades was called for. Blanche went in search of it, and immediately returned with the right card in her mouth.

Mr. Hamerton himself then examined the dog again in her literary accomplishments, and she translated the word chien (dog) into English, and spelt the word feu (fire) without difficulty: but at this point M. Rouil interposed, and said gently, "That is very well for the singular, now give us the plural." Wonderful as it seems, Blanche at once picked out the letter S, and gave it to Hamerton.

This account is almost incredible, but the facts are vouched for by Mr. Hamerton, who, however, offers no satisfactory explanation of them. "If the dogs had been less clever," he says, "we might have believed in their actual knowledge; but they really knew too much. Being convinced that there was some communication between them and their master, I had invited several very intelligent friends to be present, telling them that my object was to discover the system of M. Rouil, and asking their assistance. They watched as closely as I did, but could discover nothing." During many of the performances M. Rouil stood before the fire-place at some distance from the dogs, and made no motion with either feet or hands, nor did he advance or retreat a single step. There could, therefore, be no communication through the motions of his body. The dogs performed equally well when their backs were turned to their master, which forbids the supposition that they were guided by his eye. And the tones of his voice, though encouraging and exciting, as if he were speaking to a child, revealed nothing that could be interpreted as a method of communication. The only supposition left was that the dogs might be guided by the sense of smell; but, as M. Rouil stood at some distance from the table, and could not have known beforehand what words would be called for, it was impossible that he should have touched the cards in any way to guide the dogs by the scent. The whole performance seems inexplicable.