and the adjoining islands, are dependent upon the services of this faithful species of dog for most of the few comforts of their lives; for assistance in the chase; for carrying burdens; and for their rapid and certain conveyance over the trackless snows of their dreary plains. The dogs, subjected to a constant dependence upon their masters, receiving scanty food and abundant chastisement, assist them in hunting the seal, the reindeer, and the bear. In the summer, a single dog carries a weight of thirty pounds, in attending his master in the pursuit of game: in winter, yoked in numbers to heavy sledges, they drag five or six persons at the rate of seven or eight miles an-hour, and will perform journeys of sixty miles a-day. What the reindeer is to the Laplander, this dog is to the Eskimaux. He is a faithful slave, who grumbles, but does not rebel; whose endurance never tires; and whose fidelity is never shaken by blows and starving. These animals are obstinate in their nature; but the women, who treat them with more kindness than the men, and who nurse them in their helpless state, or when they are sick, have an unbounded command over their affections; and can thus catch them at any time, and entice them from their huts, to yoke them to the sledges, even when they are suffering the severest hunger, and have no resource but to eat the most tough and filthy remains of animal matter which they can espy on their laborious journeys. moved with quick and restless glances over everything in the room. Her mouth, half open with astonishment at the wonders of the new mas'r's parlour, displayed a white and brilliant set of teeth. Her woolly hair was braided in sundry little tails, which stuck out in every direction. The expression of her face was an odd mixture of shrewdness and cunning, over which was oddly drawn, like a kind of veil, an expression of the most doleful gravity and solemnity. She was dressed in a ragged garment, made of bagging; and stood with her hands demurely folded before her. Miss Ophelia, turning to St. Clare, said, Augustine, what can you have brought that thing here for?" "For you to educate, to be sure. I thought she was rather a funny specimen. Here, Topsy," he added, giving a whistle, as a man would call the attention of a dog, "Give us a song now, and show us some of your dancing." The black, glassy eyes glittered with a kind of wicked drollery, and Topsy struck up, in a clear, shrill voice, an odd negro melody, to which she kept time with her hands and feet, spinning round, clapping her hands, knocking her knees together, in a wild, fantastic sort of time, and producing in her throat all those odd guttural sounds which distinguish the native music of her race; finally, turning a somersault or two, and giving a prolonged closing note, as odd and unearthly as that |