M. Blaze having one day lost his road, a peasant offered him his dog to escort him to a certain honse. 'Take the gentleman,' he said, turning to the animal, • to such a place, but don't go in, mind you, and come back directly,' - then to M. Blaze, 'I tell him not to go in, because he would fight with the other dogs.' The dog did as he was bid, conducted M. Blaze to the house and returned to his master. Here it is clear that the house to which he was sent was a familiar word like his own name, and equally clear that he had been often scolded for venturing within its precincts, and embroiling himself with his kindred, so that he would readily comprehend the scope of the prohibition from the monitory voice with which it was uttered. It was certainly a beautiful display of docility; but as regards the capacity of a dog to catch the meaning of words, it proves nothing more than that he attaches ideas to a few customary, well-defined, and expressive sounds. He would seem, however, to have an accurate sense of the lapse of time. That he distinguishes Sunday is nothing. Everything wears such a different aspect that he might identify it at a glance. But he is also conscious of the recurrence of any other day of the week.

A dog that belongs to the brother of Sir Thomas Wilde, runs away on the Saturday night, and remains from home till the Monday morning, in order to escape being chained on Sunday. Southey says, in his 'Omniana,' that he knew of a dog which grew up with a Catholic, and was sold to a Protestant, that would never eat on a Friday. His grandfather had one which every Saturday, (the killing day of the week,) went a couple of miles to pick up offal at the butcher's shop. A bull-dog mentioned by M. Blaze, who was accustomed to go on the same errand, kept to the propitious hour, as well as the day. This dog was always present at family prayers, and when the last Pater was commenced, he got up and stood at the door, -that he might be ready to go out at the instant it was opened. We suspect that he was instrueted here by a slight movement in the circle, or by a variation in the pitch of reading; and not, aa M. Blaze infers, by his ability to count the number of Paters. The dog also recognizes colors. Prisoners have written letters, according to M. Blaze, on yellow, red, or blue paper, and sent them by their dogs, who knew by the tint to whom they were addressed. It is certain that the dog with a little training makes an excellent messenger.

Mr. Kirby mentions in his Bridgewater Treatise that one that was accustomed to carry packets to a house went to the kitchen to be fed when he had deposited his charge, and, as soon as he had done, appeared barking at the parlor window, to give notice that he was ready to return. Some have gone so far as to knock at the door, or ring the bell. The Spanish writer quoted by Lord Brougham, says that a friend was wont when he called to leave his mastiff at the door of the house, and the animal, in imitation of his master, pulled the bell in order to get in. The dog of a shop-keeper, who ran in and out of the street-door during the week, had always recourse to the knocker on Sunday when it was shut. Priscilla Wakefield, who tells this anecdote, adds two or three more of the same nature. M. Blaze knew a dog whose habit was, not to ring the bell, but to answer it. He regularly followed the servant from the kitchen to the door and the visitor from the door to the parlor. In his old age, becoming too deaf to hear the sound, he took up his quaters where he could see the bell, that by watching its motion he might continue to know when anybody called.

The dog possesses the to us incomprehensible instinct - in common, however, with other animals, - of finding his way by a road that he has never traversed. Mr. Blain tells of a dog that was sent by sea from London to Scotland, and escaped back to the metropolis by land. Boisrot de Lacour, a French writer on the chase, took a terrier from Rochefort to Paris, and though the dog made the journey in a carriage, and slept all the way, he returned when he was liberated, to his former master. Once again he borrowed a hound of a brother sportsman, who resided at a considerable distance; the next day, when he was let out to hunt, he slipped away and ran off home, not, as was discovered, by the road he had been brought, but in a straight line across flood and field. M. Blaze calls this instinct a sixth sense, of which we can frame no sort of idea ' Experience, however,' he continues, ' demonstrates that it exists. The camel conducts his master three hundred leagues through the sands of the desert, where there is no track to guide him. The pigeon carries letters through the pathless air. The birds of passage born in Europe emigrate to India; and, what is remarkable, travel ordinarily without their parents, who have made the voyage before.

The horse finds his road across the snow; and probably all animals have the same faculty.' On the other hand, an extraordinary circumstance, related by Dupont de Nemours, in a memoir read before the French Institute, can only be attributed to the effects of intelligence. The dog in question was the property of a shoe-black at Paris, whose trade he sustained by dipping his paws into the mud and soiling the shoes of the first person that passed along. If the pedestrian continued his progress, he dirtied the next; if he stopped to have the mischief repaired, he remained quiet till his master was at leisure for a fresh customer, and then the game recommenced. He was purchased by an Englishman, enchanted by his cleverness, and taken to London. He contrived to escape, went to the inn where the coach that brought him put up, followed it back to Dover, and, after crossing in a packet-boat to Calais, again placed himself in the wake of a carriage, which pioneered bi;n to Paris. One habit of dogs, that of deserting a town an hour or two before an earthquake, which is frequently ascribed to some strange and unaccountable instinct, depends simply on their every-day perceptions. The rumbling sound strikes their quick ears before it is heard by any one else, and scares them away.