during 1300 miles of travel, I may claim, I think, some right to assert that I possess no inconsiderable insight into the habits, customs, and thoughts (for a dog thinks far better than many of his masters) of the hauling dog.  When I look back again upon the long list of “Whiskies,” “Brandies,” “Chocolats,” “Corbeaus,” “Tigres,” “Tete Noirs,” “Cerf Volants,” “Pilots,” “Capitaines,” “Cariboos,” “muskymotes,” “Coffees,” and “Nichinassis” who individually and collectively did their best to haul me and my baggage over that immense waste of snow and ice, what a host of sadly resigned faces rises up in the dusky light of the fire! faces seared by whip-mark and blow of stick, faces mutely conscious that that master for whom the dog gives up every thing in this life was treating him in a most brutal manner.  I do not for an instant mean to assert that these dogs were not, many of them, great rascals and rank imposters; but Just as slavery produces certain vices in the slave which it would be unfair to hold him accountable for, so does this perversion of the dog from his true use to that of a beast of burthen produce in endless variety traits of cunning and deception in the hauling-dog.  To be a thorough expert in dog-training a man must be able to imprecate freely and with considerable variety in at least three different languages.  But whatever number of tongues the driver may speak, one is indispensable to perfection in the art, and that is French:  curses seem useful adjuncts in any language, but curses delivered in French will get a train of dogs through or over any thing.  There is a good story told which illustrates this peculiar feature in dog-training.  It is said that a high dignitary of the Church was once making a winter tour through his missions in the North-west.  The driver, out of deference for his freight’s profession, abstained from the use of forcible language to his dogs, and the hauling was very indifferently performed.  Soon the train came to the foot of a hill, and notwithstanding all the efforts of the driver with whip and stick the dogs were unable to draw the cariole to the summit.

“Oh,” said the Church dignitary, “this is not at all as good a train of dogs as the one you drove last year; why, they are unable to pull me up this hill!”

“No, monseigneur,” replied the owner of the dogs, “but I am driving them differently; if you will only permit me to drive them in the old way you will see how easily they will pull the cariole to the top of this hill; they do not understand my new method.”

“By all means,” said the bishop; “drive them then in the usual manner.”

Instantly there rang out a long string of “sacre chien,” “sacre diable,” and still more unmentionable phrases.  The effect-upon the dogs was magical; the cariole flew to the summit; the progress of the episcopal tour was undeniably expedited, and a-practical exposition was given of the poet’s thought, “From seeming evil still aducing good.”