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and their alacrity of biting,—the very qualities for which, in a wellgoverned country, they would infallibiy be hanged or drowned. Often have I been scared out of my wits by the wicked, vindictive snarl of one of these social plagues, and then seen the creature caressed and fondled, nay, presented with plum-cake and Naples biscuit, to reward his “vivacity,” his “spirit," or his playfulness.

What would the Belindas think if for every Shock they harbour in their drawing-rooms, the Barons and Sir Plumes were to cherish tarantulas, and visit with favourite adders, and pet scorpions in their pockets. I have often thought of at least trying the effect of a lapmouse or a lap-spider, and requesting my fair friends to admire its

spirit,” its « playfulness,” the “ vivacity” of the“ dear little" creeping-thing," or the poor sweet” reptile !

Barbarous as fashionable life is in many a particular, it has no more savage custom than this of turning our saloons into kennels, and training a breed of dogs for the express purpose of frightening, worrying, snarling, and snapping at our guests and acquaintance. There are hare-hounds, fox-hounds, deer-hounds, but the lap-dog is a manhound. He hunts me out of society. From one house I am hunted by a villanous Dutch pug; from another chased by a King Charles towards whom I feel an ungovernable propensity to act the part of a Cromwell; from a third I am terrified by a treacherous vixen of an Italian greyhound, whose notorious perfidy has earned him the appellation of Fidele. There is one drawing-room in May Fair into which I have sworn on holy books never again to set my foot, without a dose of Prussic acid disguised in a biscuit, to bribe the lady's pet Cerberus, just as Virgil's Sybil appeases his great original at the gates of hell with a cake of honey and morphine.

Instead of committing the care of Belinda's Shock to Ariel, or any “delicate spirit,” I would make Caliban its guardian, or all the imps in Orcus.

" Ariel himself shall be the guard of Shock!” Well, we certainly do see many a nuisance in this world in the enjoyment of august patronage, and under high protectorates, and so let it be with lap-dogs. I would not be on better terms with them if they had all the daintiest sprites in Faery-land in their interest.

Their selfishness is detestable; they engross the snuggest chairs in the room, and secure the best morsels on the table, and drink up all the cream at breakfast without the least regard to the duties of hospitality, or the commonest principles of politeness. Notwithstanding the high society they move in, I really think them the worst-bred dogs in the kingdom. If you want to see a genuine specimen of". Low Life Above Stairs,” just observe the behaviour of Lady Dogberry's amiable pet, Cayenne, or Miss Curry's Weasel! The former is the dear innocent whom I propose to treat some early day to plum-cake and Prussic acid. If ever a dog was possessed by Beelzebub, that dog is Cayenne. He is just one little round lump of fiery red pepper, with the irritability of a wasp, the pugnacity of a bull-dog, and the animus of a musquito. He bit ny toe io the bone one evening without the slightest provocation in life. By the merest accident, while conversing with his mistress, I placed my heedless foot on the edge of the stool where he was apparently reposing like a bishop, or mitred abbot after refection.

“Gnrrrllrr-gorillrrr—" then a snap and a bite that went through boot, stocking, skin, flesh, right to the bone. I think he has earned the Prussic acid ! He shall have it, by the hatred I bear his entire race; he shall have it before the present season is over, or may the next bite of a lap-dog snap off my head.

My Lady Dogberry, I must further acquaint the reader, acted upon the occasion I refer to, in the usual way in which ladies act, who keep mischievous curs in collars to torment and worry their acquaintance. Not a pang did my sufferings cost her; not one expression of regret did she utter, except for the execrable whelp, who having pierced my foot through and through with his fangs, Aed with the instinct of a cowardly assassin, and took shelter under a table, still uttering his hideous « Gurrlllerril-gnrrrllrrr."

“ My poor Cayenne ! how frightened he is ! he never could endure pateat leather. Come, poor fellow! Come, Cayenne !" And Cayenne came at length, with another “Gnrrrllr," from forth his sanctuary, and had lots of Naples biscuit and cream to encourage and console him.

There is another charge which I have to bring against these fourfooted pests of society. From all that I have seen and heard of their habits and practices, I am fully convinced that avarice is one of their vices, if not their ruling passion. People may smile at the notion of an avaricious poodle, or a covetous Italian greyhound, but observation has assured me that these offensive cubs are as sordid and self-interested as dog or man can be. The fact is that being frequently remembered in the wills and codicils of their fond mistresses, like all greedy expectants of such posthumous favours, they entertain the utmost spite against rivals of all descriptions, whether a servant or a squirrel, a maid or a magpie, the parson or the parrot, the grandchild or the guest. Why, I have known a lap-dog made residuary legatee ! And when a gentlewoman's property goes to the dogs, one sees no reason why a dog should not be even her executor, or obtain letters of administration.

I myself looked forward for many years to be remembered in the last will and testament of an ancient female relative in Berkshire; but I have long renounced every hope of such good-luck, her lap-dog is so keen a fortune-hunter, and has acquired such a complete ascendancy over her. I know I shall be cut out by Tartar; he will be left a handsome legacy, some fair annuity for life, and I shall probably inherit the farnily Bible, with ten pounds for a mourning ring. The old lady believes Tartar to be an angel in the shape of a bloated pug, whereas I know him to be the most worldly-minded whelp that ever lapped cream out of a china saucer, although he waddles to church twice on Sundays and once on the Wednesdays and holidays, just as regularly as his mistress, who is a pattern of devotion, but a little Puseyitically given. Tartar has just as much idea of Christianity as a blue fox in Nova Zembla, yet he never barks during divine service, and seldom sleeps, let the sermon be ever so tedious, which, I am perfectly certain, is to show his superiority to me, who am occasionally caught napping when the discourse runs to a sixteenth or seventeenth head. Nothing can injure me more in the good lady's opinion, and she never omits contrasting my somnolency with Tartar's apparent attention. She pats him on his odious fat sides and says, “ Good little dog, best of little

April.- VOL. LX5. NO. CCLxxx.

2 M

dogs, you didn't sleep in church to-day, you didn't think Mr. Drawlington's sermon too long.”

Yet, if I were Mr. Drawlington, I would infinitely prefer passing an hour, like the prophet Daniel, in a lion's den, than venture the tip of my finger within reach of this same Tartar, when he is at his chicken, or his sweetbread. He would snap off the nose of Dr. Pusey himself, yet this wretched little canine Tartuffe will assuredly oust me out of a good hundred a year.

And now, abominable breed of lap-dogs, whatever climes produce you, whatever collars you wear, whatever mistresses cocker and doat on you for your hateful qualities, whatever maids comb you, footmen follow you, or parsons preach unto you,—I have expressed my sentiments,-waddle off to your plum-cake or partridge with what appetites you may




Love not, love not, ye hapless sons of earth.-MRS. NORTON.
Love on, love on, the soul must have a shrine,

The rudest breast must find some hallow'd spot;
The God who form’d us left no spark divine,

In him who dwells on earth, yet loveth not.
Devotion's links compose a sacred chain

Of holy brightness and unmeasured length;
The world with selfish rust and reckless stain,

May mar its beauty, but not touch its strength.
Love on, love on,-ay, even though the heart

We fondly build on proveth like the sand,
Though one by one Faith's corner-stones depart,

And even Hope's last pillar fails to stand,
Though we may dread the lips we once believed,

And know their falsehood shadows all our days,
Who would not rather trust and be deceived,

Than own the mean, cold spirit that betrays?
Love on, love on, though we may live to see

The dear face whiter than its circling shroud,
Though dark and dense the gloom of death may be,

Affection's glory yet shall pierce the cloud,
The truest spell that Heaven can give to lure,

The sweetest prospect Mercy can bestow,
Is the blest thought that bids the soul be sure,

'Twill meet above the things it loved below.
Love on, love on, Creation breathes the words,

Their mystic music ever dwells around ;
The strain is echo'd by upnumber'd chords,

And gentlest bosoms yield the fullest sound.
As flowers keep springing, though their dazzling bloom

Is oft put forth for worms to feed upon;
So hearts, though wrung by traitors and the tomb,

Shall still be precious and shall still love on.


No. XXI.*


Part I.

Of all the Beasts which thou This-day didst build,
To haunt the Hils, the Forrest, and the Field,
I see (as Vice-Roy of their Brutish Band)
The Elephant the Vant-guard doth command:
Worthy that office ; whether we regard
His Towered back, where many Souldiers ward ;
Or else his Prudence, wherewithall he seems
T obscure the wits of human-kinde sometimes:
As studious scholar, he self-rumineth
His lessons giv'n, his king he honoureth,
Adores the moon: moved with strange desire,
He feels the sweet flames of th’ Idalian fire,
And (pierc't with glance of a kinde-cruell eye)
For humane beauty, seems to sigh and dye.
Yea (it the Grecians doe not mis-recite)
With's crooked trumpet he doth sometimes write.

Du BARTAS: The Sixth Day of the First Weeke.

These lines are translated by y'. famous Philomusus, Iosvau SylVESTER, Gent.,” as we are informed in the quaint title-page of the folio edition, printed at London in 1633, by Robert Young, who collected his “most delight-full Workes," and gave them to the public with the following dashing address.

" The Printer to the Reader. The name of Joshua Sylvester is garland enough to hang before This doore; a name worthily deare to the present Age, to Posteritie. I doe not therefore, goe about to apologize for this Worke, or to commend it: it shall speak for itselfe, louder than eyther others' friendship or envie. I only advertise my Reader that since the death of the Author (if at least it be safe to say those men are dead who ever survive in their living monuments) I have carefully fetcht together all the dispersed Issue of that divine Wit; as those which are well worthie to sive (like Brethren) together under one faire roof, that may both challenge time, and outweare it. I durst not conceale the harmless fancies of his inoffensive youth, which himselse had devoted to Silence and Forgetfulness : It is so much the more glory to that worthy Spirit, that hee who was so happy in those youthful strains (some whereof, lately come to hand, and not formerly extant, are in this edition inserted) would yet turne and confine his pen to none but holy and religious Dities. Let the present and future times injoy so profitable and pleasing a work, and at once honour the Author, and thank the Editor.”

* In No. XX. of these “Recreations" (Part III., of the Magazine for 1843), at the commencement of the last paragraph but two, p. 509, “ Look at the reptile, relic in the stone,” &c., is erroneously printed for “ Look at the reptile-relic in the stone,” &c.

The book is got up in the best manner, dedicated to gentle King Jamie, and with its Anagrammata Regia-" Jacobus Stuart, Justa Servabo, James Stuart, A just Master," for example-and its pillastered “Corona Dedicatoria," forms a very curious and characteristic specimen of the Euphuistic and Garamna literature of the time. But, alas for posthumous fame! how few of the present generation have even heard of Sylvester? Were it not for the imperishable Izaak Walton,* what would be known of Du Bartas himself? There is much more about the Elephant, and the way in which the Dragon circumvents and kills the huge beast, in verse which, although it might have sounded charmingly in the ears of the Royal Apprentice, our readers would hardly thank us for disinterring.

Before we enter upon the natural history of the Elephant, and the uses to which he has been applied either in war, the chace, the procession, or the theatre, we will, with the reader's leave, take a rapid view of the organic structure of the huge animal, beginning with the gigantic bony framework.

One of the first particular objects that strikes the beholder after the mind has recovered from the impression which the colossal whole never fails to produce, especially when the skeleton of a full grown male is viewed in front, is the enormous size of the cranium ; and few of those who are not conversant with the organisation of the skull, with its broad anterior expanse, fail to express their surprise at its proportions, or to inquire how a weight apparently so great is supported.

The muscles necessary for working the complicated, powerful, and delicate evolutions of the trunk or proboscis, required a broad surface for their attachment; and ponderous as the skull seems, it is in great part weighty in appearance only. The chamber of the brain, which last forms in the elephant zio of the whole body, is but of comparatively small extent, although there is ample room for that grand centre of the nervous system in proportion to the necessities of the animal: and many who have heard of or witnessed its sagacity, deceived by appearances, come to the conclusion that the developinent of the brain is commensurate with the external surface. If this had been the truth, we should probably have had in the elephant a forty-man reasoning power imprisoned in a frame utterly unfit to carry out the ideas and reflections engendered in that brain, which would have been but inadequately protected from the dangers surrounding a creature whose food is priucipally obtained by breaking down large branches of trees, and uprooting others of no small dimensions. But as it is, the forehead, with its great frontal sinuses, which are larger in the elephant than in any other animal, may be safely used as an immense battering-ram to clear away all obstructions in its path, whilst comparative lightness is secured by the extensive, thin, but firm cellular texture which is so largely deveJoped between the outer and ioner tables of the cranium, and becomes an almost impregnable fortification to secure the brain from external danger. It is well known to hunters that the place to which their aim is best directed in elephant shooting is behind the ear,-the vulnerable point by which the massacred Chuny was reached at Exeter Change, after his cruel and clumsy foes had been blazing away at him in front

*“Compleat Angler," ch. i.

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