"A naval lieutenant owned a canary bird and a Newfoundland dog. While they were cruising in the Mediterranean, the bird escaped from the cabin and, flying out to sea, became weighted down with the spray and dropped into the water. The dog leaped overboard, and when he was hauled up on deck again, he dropped the bird out of his mouth, quite uninjured. Another naval officer who owned a Newfoundland was drowned when his ship was sunk near Liverpool. The faithful dog swam about over the spot for three days and three nights, searching vainly for his master, before he would allow himself to be brought exhausted to land.
"Friendships between two dogs are very rare, but instances have been recorded, and in most of these a Newfoundland figures. At Donaghadee there was once a mastiff and a Newfoundland who were, for some reason, bitter enemies, and as both were powerful dogs, it was desirable to keep them apart. One day, however, the mastiff attacked the Newfoundland on the pier, and a terrific fight ensued. At length both dogs fell into the water and loosed their holds. The Newfoundland was soon on dry land, but the mastiff was a poor swimmer and appeared in danger of drowning. The Newfoundland, observing the plight of his recent antagonist, plunged in again and brought him to shore, after which the two dogs were the closest friends. Another Newfoundland at Cork became so annoyed by a small, troublesome cur, that at last he took him in his mouth and dropped him into the water. When the small dog was nearly drowned the Newfoundland rescued him, and was never annoyed by him again.
"But the Newfoundland has been the means of saving not merely drowning persons. In 1841 a laborer named Rake in the parish of Botley, near Southampton, in England, was buried in a gravel pit with two ribs broken. He was helpless and would undoubtedly have died there if his employer's Newfoundland dog had not dug him out.
"William Youatt, who wrote two or three of the dog books in my library, tells of an experience he once had with a friend's Newfoundland dog named Carlo. Youatt and the friend and Carlo parted on the road to Kingston, the dog and his master turning off toward Wandsworth. Soon afterward Youatt was accosted by ruffians. He never knew what made Carlo come back to him, but the dog appeared at the critical moment and drove the men away. Carlo escorted Youatt to a safe place, and then, in the author's quaint words, 'with many a mutual and honest greeting we parted, and he bounded away to overtake his rightful owner.'