"Let's try," exclaimed the Governor-General.

Whereupon he dismounted, and gave his horse to one of the children to hold, and mounted the donkey. The beast began to kick up his heels, and lower his head as heretofore; but this time the trick would not answer. The Governor-General sat firm, and finally prevailed, whether by fair means or foul, I am not instructed, in getting the quadruped to move wheresoever he chose. He himself laughed heartily as he resigned the conquered thistle-eater to his first friends; and the story when told, as told it was, with consummate humour, at the dinner-table, afforded great amusement to a large circle of guests.

NORTHCOTE, THE ROYAL ACADEMICIAN, AN ANGEL AT AN ASS.

Fuseli, the artist, was a most outspoken man. His biographer[247] says that he never concealed his sentiments with regard to men, even to their faces.

"Every one knows," writes Mr Knowles, "who is acquainted with art, the powers which Northcote displays when he paints animals of the brute creation. When his picture of 'Balaam and the Ass' was exhibited at the Macklin Gallery, Northcote asked Fuseli's opinion of its merits, who instantly said, 'My friend, you are an angel at an ass, but an ass at an angel.'"

SYDNEY SMITH'S ACCOMPLISHED DONKEY, WITH FRANCIS JEFFREY ON HIS BACK.

Lady Holland[248] gives the following picture of her father's pet donkey:—

"Amongst our rural delights at Heslington was the possession of a young donkey which had been given up to our tender mercies from the time of its birth, and in whose education we employed a large portion of our spare time; and a most accomplished donkey it became under our tuition. It would walk up-stairs, pick pockets, follow us in our walks like a huge Newfoundland dog, and at the most distant sight of us in the field, with ears down and tail erect, it set off in full bray to meet us. These demonstrations on Bitty's part were met with not less affection on ours, and Bitty was almost considered a member of the family.

"One day, when my elder brother and myself were training our beloved Bitty with a pocket-handkerchief for a bridle, and his head crowned with flowers, to run round our garden, who should arrive in the midst of our sport but Mr Jeffrey. Finding my father out, he, with his usual kindness towards young people, immediately joined in our sport, and to our infinite delight, mounted our donkey. He was proceeding in triumph, amidst our shouts of laughter, when my father and mother, in company, I believe, with Mr Horner and Mr Murray, returned from their walk, and beheld this scene from the garden-door. Though years and years have passed away since, I still remember the joy-inspiring laughter that burst from my father at this unexpected sight, as, advancing towards his old friend, with a face beaming with delight, and with extended hands, he broke forth in the following impromptu:

'Witty as Horatius Flaccus, As great a Jacobin as Gracchus; Short, though not as fat as Bacchus, Riding on a little jackass.'

"These lines were afterwards repeated by some one to Mr —— at Holland House, just before he was introduced for the first time to Mr Jeffrey, and they caught his fancy to such a degree that he could not get them out of his head, but kept repeating them in a low voice all the time Mr Jeffrey was conversing with him.

"I must end Bitty's history, as he has been introduced, by saying that he followed us to Foston; and after serving us faithfully for thirteen years, on our leaving Yorkshire, was permitted by our kind friend, Lord Carlisle, to spend the rest of his days in idleness and plenty, in his beautiful park, with an unbounded command of thistles."

SYDNEY SMITH ON THE SAGACITY OF THE ASS; A LADY SCARCELY SO WISE AS ONE.

The Rev. Sydney Smith[249] writes to Colonel Fox in October 1836:—

"MY DEAR CHARLES,—If you have ever paid any attention to the habits of animals, you will know that donkeys are remarkably cunning in opening gates. The way to stop them is to have two latches instead of one. A human being has two hands, and lifts up both latches at once; a donkey has only one nose, and latch a drops, as he quits it to lift up latch b. Bobus and I had the grand luck to see little Aunty engaged intensely with this problem. She was taking a walk, and was arrested by a gate with this formidable difficulty: the donkeys were looking on to await the issue. Aunty lifted up the first latch with the most perfect success, but found herself opposed by a second; flushed with victory, she quitted the first latch, and rushed at the second; her success was equal, till in the meantime the first dropped. She tried this two or three times, and, to her utter astonishment, with the same results; the donkeys brayed, and Aunty was walking away in great dejection, till Bobus and I recalled her with loud laughter, showed her that she had two hands, and roused her to vindicate her superiority over the donkeys. I mention this to you to request that you will make no allusion to this animal, as she is remarkably touchy on this subject, and also that you will not mention it to Lady Mary!"

* * * * *

Lady Holland relates a practical joke of her father's, which the witty canon carried out at his rectory of Combe Florey. "Opposite was a beautiful bank, with a hanging wood of fine old beech and oak, on the summit of which presented themselves, to our astonished eyes, two donkeys with deers' antlers fastened on their heads, which ever and anon they shook, much wondering at their horned honours; whilst the attendant donkey boy, in Sunday garb, stood grinning and blushing at their side. 'There, Lady ——! you said the only thing this place wanted to make it perfect was deer; what do you say now? I have, you see, ordered my game gamekeeper to drive my deer into the most picturesque point of view. Excuse their long ears, a little peculiarity belonging to parsonic deer. Their voices, too, are singular; but we do our best for you, and you are too true a friend of the Church to mention our defects.' All this, of course, amidst shouts of laughter, whilst his own merry laugh might be heard above us all, ringing through the valley, and making the very echoes laugh in chorus."

ASSES' DUTY FREE!

During the debate on Sir Robert Peel's tariff, the admission of asses' duty free caused much merriment. Lord T., who had just read "Vestiges of the Natural History of Creation," remarked that the House had, he supposed, passed the donkey clause out of respect to its ancestors.—"It is a wise measure," said a popular novelist, "especially as it affects the importation of food; for, should a scarcity come, we should otherwise have to fall back on the food of our forefathers."—"And, pray, what is that?" asked an archaeologist.—"Thistles," replied Lord T.[250]

THACKERAY AND THE EGYPTIAN DONKEY.

When the English author landed at Alexandria, there were many scenes and sounds to dispel all romantic notions; among these "a yelling chorus of donkey boys shrieking, 'Ride, sir!—donkey, sir!—I say, sir!' in excellent English. The placid sphinxes, brooding o'er the Nile, disappeared with that wild shriek of the donkey boys. You might be as well impressed with Wapping as with your first step on Egyptian soil.

"The riding of a donkey is, after all, not a dignified occupation. A man resists the offer first, somehow as an indignity. How is that poor little, red-saddled, long-eared creature to carry you? Is there to be one for you and another for your legs? Natives and Europeans, of all sizes, passed by, it is true, mounted upon the same contrivance. I waited until I got into a very private spot, where nobody could see me, and then ascended—why not say descended at once?—on the poor little animal. Instead of being crushed at once, as perhaps the writer expected, it darted forward, quite briskly and cheerfully, at six or seven miles an hour; requiring no spur or admonitive to haste, except the shrieking of the little Egyptian gamin, who ran along by asinus's side."[251]

BEST TO LET MULES HAVE THEIR OWN WAY.

Dr John Moore, in crossing the Alps, found they had nothing but the sagacity of their mules to trust to. "For my own part," he says, "I was very soon convinced that it was much safer on all dubious occasions to depend on theirs than on my own. For as often as I was presented with a choice of difficulties, and the mule and I were of different opinions, if, becoming more obstinate than he, I insisted on his taking my track, I never failed to repent it, and often was obliged to return to the place where the controversy had begun, and follow the path to which he had pointed at first.

"It is entertaining to observe the prudence of these animals in making their way down such dangerous rocks. They sometimes put their heads over the edge of the precipice, and examine with anxious circumspection every possible way by which they can descend, and at length are sure to fix on that which, upon the whole, is the best. Having observed this in several instances, I laid the bridle on the neck of my mule, and allowed him to take his own way, without presuming to control him in the smallest degree. This is doubtless the best method, and what I recommend to all my friends in their journey through life, when they have mules for their companions."[252]

ZEBRA.—"Un ane rayee."

A FRENCHMAN'S "DOUBLE-ENTENDRE."

When, in 1805, Patrick Lattin, an officer of the Irish Brigade, was residing in Paris, a M. de Montmorency, whose Christian name was Anne, made his appearance, announcing that he was enabled to return to France, in consequence of the First Consul having scratched his name on the list of emigres. "A present donc," observed Lattin, "mon cher Anne, tu es un Zebre—un ane rayee."[253]

FOOTNOTES:

[239] "The Poems of S. T. Coleridge," pp. 26, 27 (1844).

[240] "Memoirs of the Life of William Collins, R.A.," by his son, W. Wilkie Collins, vol. i. p. 232.

[241] Edition of Sir T. D. Lauder, Bart., vol. ii. p. 273.

[242] "Gilpin's Forest Scenery," vol. ii. p. 275. Edited by Sir T. D. Lauder.

[243] Mark Lemon, "Jest Book," p. 129.

[244] Lemon, "Jest Book," p. 307.

[245] Photius, quoted by Southey in his "Common-Place Book," first series, p. 588.

[246] "Memoirs of the Life of the Right Hon. Warren Hastings, compiled from original papers," by the Rev. G. R. Gleig, M.A., vol. iii. p. 367.

[247] "The Life and Writings of Henry Fuseli, Esq., M.A., R.A.," the former written and the latter edited by John Knowles, Esq., F.R.S., vol. i. p. 364.

[248] "A Memoir of the Rev. Sydney Smith," by his daughter, Lady Holland, &c., vol. i. p. 152.

[249] "Memoirs and Letters of Rev. Sydney Smith," vol. ii. p. 393.

[250] "A Century of Anecdote from 1760 to 1860," by John Timbs, F.S.A., vol. i. p. 252 (1864).

[251] "Notes of a Journey from Cornhill to Grand Cairo," by Mr M. A. Titmarsh, p. 177 (1846).

[252] "View of Society and Manners in France, Switzerland, and Germany," vol. i. pp. 191, 192 (9th edition).



CAMEL.

Truly the Ship of the Desert, and one that by Lewis and Henry Warren has afforded the subject of many a pleasing picture. The camel has a most patriarchal look about him.

CAPTAIN WILLIAM PEEL, R.N. REMARKS ON CAMELS.

Captain William Peel, in his "Ride through the Nubian Desert" (p. 89), writes—"We met once at a hollow, where some water still remained from the rains, 2000 camels, all together admirably organised into troops, and attended by only a few Arabs. On another occasion, we passed some camels grazing at such a distance from the Nile, that I asked the Arab attending where they went to drink? He said, he marches them all down together to the Nile, and they drink every eleventh day. It is now the cool season, and the heat is tempered by fresh northerly breezes. The Arab, of course, brings water skins for his own supply. All these camels were breeding stock. They live on thorns and the top shoots of the gum-arabic tree, although it is armed with the most frightful spikes. But very little comes amiss to the camel; he will eat dry wood to keep up digestion, if in want of a substitute. Instinct or experience has taught him to avoid the only two tempting-looking plants that grow in the desert,—the green eusha bush, which is full of milk-coloured juice, and a creeper, that grows in the sand where nothing else will grow, and which has a bitter fruit like a melon. I was surprised to learn that the leopard does not dare to attack the camel, whose tall and narrow flanks would seem to be fatally exposed to such a supple enemy. Nature, however, has given him a means of defence in his iron jaw and long powerful neck, which are a full equivalent for his want of agility. He can also strike heavily with his feet, and his roar would intimidate many foes. I never felt tired of admiring this noble creature, and through the monotony of the desert would watch for hours his ceaseless tread and unerring path. Carrying his head low, forward, and surveying everything with his black brilliant eye, he marches resolutely forward, and quickens his pace at the slightest cheer of the rider. He is too intelligent and docile for a bridle; besides, he lives on the march, and with a sudden sweep of the neck will seize, without stopping, the smallest straw. When the day's march is over, he passes the night in looking for food, with scarcely an hour to repose his limbs, and less than that for sleep. He closes the eye fitfully, the smallest noise will awake him. When lying down for rest, every part of the body is supported; his neck and head lie lightly along the sand, a broad plate of bone under the breast takes the weight off his deep chest, and his long legs lay folded under him, supporting his sides like a ship in a cradle."

A CAPTAIN IN THE ROYAL NAVY MEASURES THE PROGRESS OF "THE SHIP OF THE DESERT."

The dromedary has long and deservedly been called "the Ship of the Desert." A very gallant captain in the Royal Navy, the late Captain William Peel, son of the Prime Minister, calculated its rate of motion much after the manner in which he might have measured the path of his ship. He writes[254]—"In crossing the Nubian Desert I paid constant attention to the march of the camels, hoping it may be of some service hereafter in determining our position. The number of strides in a minute with the same foot varied very little, only from 37 to 39, and 38 was the average; but the length of the stride was more uncertain, varying from 6 feet 6 to 7 feet 6. As we were always urging the camels, who seemed, like ourselves, to know the necessity of pushing on across that fearful tract, I took 7 feet as the average. These figures give a speed of 2.62 geographical miles per hour, or exactly three English miles, which may be considered as the highest speed that camels lightly loaded can keep up on a journey. In general, it will not be more than two and a half English miles. My dromedary was one of the tallest, and the seat of the saddle was 6 feet 6 above the ground."

LORD METCALFE ON A CAMEL WHEN A BOY.

Charles Metcalfe, "first and last Lord Metcalfe," to whose care were successively intrusted the three greatest dependencies of the British crown, India, Jamaica, and Canada, and who died in 1846, was sent to Eton when eleven years old. His biographer relates,[255] that "it is on record, and on very sufficient authority, that he was once seen riding on a camel. 'I heard the boys shouting,' said Dr Goodall, many years afterwards, 'and went out and saw young Metcalfe riding on a camel; so you see he was always orientally inclined.'" This anecdote will serve as a comrade to that told by Mr Foss, in his "Lives of the Justices of England," of Chief-Baron Pollock. When a lad, one of his schoolmasters, fretted by the boyish energy and exuberant spirits of his scholar, said petulantly, "You will live to be hanged." The old gentleman lived to see his pupil Lord Chief-Baron, and, not a little proud of his great scholar, said, "I always said he would occupy an elevated position."

FOOTNOTES:

[253] Quoted in Timbs' "Century of Anecdote," vol. i. p. 223 (1864).

[254] "A Ride through the Nubian Desert," by Captain W. Peel, R.N., p. 49.



STAGS AND GIRAFFE.

The deer family is rather numerous, and found in many different parts of the world. Reindeers abound in some parts even of Spitzbergen, and with musk oxen can find their food even under the winter snows of the Parry Islands. The wapiti and heavy large-headed elk or moose, retreat before the advancing civilisation of North America. The Indian mountains and plains have noble races of deer. No species, however, is more celebrated than our red deer. The giraffe is closely allied to the stag family. The Arabs name it the seraph, and indeed, that is the origin of its now best-known English name. Visitors should beware of going too near the male, for we have seen the dent made by one of the giraffe's bony knobs on a pannel close to its stall. We have heard of a young lady, who entered the garden one of those summer days when straw bonnets had great bunches of ripe barley mingled with artificial poppies as an ornament, and, going too near the lofty pallisade, found to her confusion and terror that the long lithe tongue of the giraffe had whisked off her Leghorn, flowers and all, and had begun leisurely to munch it with somewhat of the same gusto with which it would have eaten the branch of a graceful mimosa.

EARL OF DALHOUSIE AND THE FEROCIOUS STAG.

Mr Scrope relates an instance of unprovoked ferocity in a red deer at Taymouth, in which the present Earl of Dalhousie might have been seriously injured.

"In October 1836, the Hon. Mr and Mrs Fox Maule had left Taymouth with the intention of proceeding towards Dalguise; and in driving through that part of the grounds where the red deer were kept, they suddenly at a turn of the road came upon the lord of the demesne standing in the centre of the passage, as if prepared to dispute it against all comers. Mr Maule being aware that it might be dangerous to trifle with him, or to endeavour to drive him away (for it was the rutting season), cautioned the postilion to go slowly, and give the animal an opportunity of moving off. This was done, and the stag retired to a small hollow by the side of the road. On the carriage passing, however, he took offence at its too near approach, and emerged at a slow and stately pace, till he arrived nearly parallel with it. Mr Maule then desired the lad to increase his pace, being apprehensive of a charge in the broadside.

"The deer, however, had other intentions; for as soon as the carriage moved quicker, he increased his pace also, and came on the road about twelve yards ahead of it, for the purpose of crossing, as it was thought, to a lower range of the parks; but to the astonishment and no little alarm of the occupants of the carriage, he charged the offside horse, plunging his long brow antler into his chest, and otherwise cutting him.

"The horse that was wounded made two violent kicks, and is supposed to have struck the stag, and then the pair instantly ran off the road; and it was owing solely to the admirable presence of mind and sense of the postilion, that the carriage was not precipitated over the neighbouring bank. The horses were not allowed to stop till they reached the gate, although the blood was pouring from the wounded animal in a stream as thick as a man's finger. He was then taken out of the carriage, and only survived two or three hours. The stag was shortly afterwards killed."[256]

THE FRENCH COUNT AND THE STAG.

Mr Scrope, in his "Deer-Stalking," describes a grand deer-drive to Glen-Tilt, headed by the Duke of Athole. Many an incident of this and subsequent drives was watched by "Lightfoot," who was present, and whose pictures, under his name of Sir Edwin Landseer, have rendered the life of the red deer familiar to us, in mist, amid snow, swimming in the rapid of a Highland current, pursued and at rest, fighting and feeding, alive and dead, in every attitude, and at every age.

In this encounter, the Duke killed three first-rate harts, Lightfoot two, and other rifles were all more or less successful. A French count, whose tongue it was difficult to restrain,—and silence is essential to success in the pursuit,—at last fired into a dense herd of deer.

Mr Scrope adds,[257] "Everything was propitious—circumstance, situation, and effect; for he was descending the mountain in full view of our whole assemblage of sportsmen. A fine stag in the midst of the herd fell to the crack of his rifle. 'Hallo, hallo!' forward ran the count, and sat upon the prostrate deer triumphing. 'He bien, mon ami, vous etes mort, donc! Moi, je fais toujours des coups surs. Ah! pauvre enfant!' He then patted the sides of the animal in pure wantonness, and looked east, west, north, and south, for applause, the happiest of the happy; finally he extracted a mosaic snuff-box from his pocket, and with an air which nature has denied to all save the French nation, he held a pinch to the deer's nose—'Prends, mon ami, prends donc!' This operation had scarcely been performed when the hart, who had only been stunned, or perhaps shot through the loins, sprang up suddenly, overturned the count, ran fairly away, and was never seen again. 'Arretes, toi traitre! Arretes, mon enfant! Ah! c'est un enfant, perdu! Allez donc a tous les diables!'"

VENISON FAT.—REYNOLDS AND THE GOURMAND.

Northcote[258] says—"I have heard Sir Joshua Reynolds relate an anecdote of a venison feast, at which were assembled many who much enjoyed the repast.

"On this occasion, Reynolds addressed his conversation to one of the company who sat next to him, but to his great surprise could not get a single word in answer, until at length his silent neighbour, turning to him, said, 'Mr Reynolds, whenever you are at a venison feast, I advise you not to speak during dinner-time, as in endeavouring to answer your questions, I have just swallowed a fine piece of the fat, entire, without tasting its flavour.'"

STAG-TRENCH AT FRANKFORT-ON-THE-MAINE.

Goethe was born at Frankfort-on-the-Maine, August 28th, 1749. In his autobiography[259] he says—"The street in which our house was situated passed by the name of the Stag-trench; but as neither stags nor trenches were to be seen, we naturally wished to have the expression explained. They told us that our house stood on a spot that was once outside the town, and that where the street now ran had formerly been a trench in which a number of stags were kept. The stags were preserved and fatted here, because the Senate every year, according to an ancient custom, feasted publicly on a stag which was always at hand in the trench for such a festival, in case princes or knights interfered with the city's right of chase outside, or the walls were encompassed and besieged by an enemy. This pleased us, and we wished that such a lair for tame wild animals could have been seen in our times. Where is there a boy or girl who could not join in the wish of this man, who has been called the first European poet and literary man of the nineteenth century?"

GIRAFFE.

"Fancy," said Sydney Smith to some ladies, when he was told that one of the giraffes at the Zoological Gardens had caught a cold,—"fancy a giraffe with two yards of sore throat."

In one of the numbers of Punch, published in 1864, the quiz of an artist has made the giraffes twist their necks into a loose knot by way of a comforter to keep them from catching a cold, or having a sore throat. He has very audaciously caused to be printed under his cut, "A FACT."

FOOTNOTES:

[255] "Life and Correspondence of Charles Lord Metcalfe," by John William Kaye, vol. i., p. 8.

[256] "The Art of Deer-Stalking," p. 33.

[257] "Deer-Stalking," p. 229.

[258] "Life of Sir Joshua Reynolds," vol. i., p. 124.

[259] "Truth and Poetry from my own Life; the Autobiography of Goethe," edited by Parke Godwin, part i., p. 3.



SHEEP AND GOATS.

These are animals, at least the former, which seem to have been created in a domestic state. They are represented on the most ancient monuments. A head of a Lybian ram of very large size, in the British Museum, has great resemblance to nature, and there is one slab at least among the Assyrian monuments where sheep and goats, as part of the spoil of a city, are rendered with great skill. In the writings of the Ettrick Shepherd, many curious anecdotes of Scottish sheep are given.

HOW MANY LEGS HAS A SHEEP?

When the Earl of Bradford was brought before the Lord Chancellor to be examined upon application for a statute of lunacy against him, the Chancellor asked him, "How many legs has a sheep?"—"Does your lordship mean," answered Lord Bradford, "a live sheep or a dead sheep?"—"Is it not the same thing?" said the Chancellor.—"No, my lord," said Lord Bradford, "there is much difference: a live sheep may have four legs, a dead sheep has only two; the two fore-legs are shoulders; there are only two legs of mutton."[260]

GOETHE ON ROOS'S ETCHINGS OF SHEEP.

In the "Conversations of Goethe with Eckerman and Soret"[261] in 1824, he handed me some etchings by Roos, the famous painter of animals; they were all of sheep, in every posture and position. The simplicity of their countenances, the ugliness and shagginess of the fleece—all was represented with the utmost fidelity, as if it were nature itself.

"I always feel uneasy," said Goethe, "when I look at these beasts. Their state—so limited, dull, gaping, and dreaming—excites in me such sympathy, that I fear I shall become a sheep, and almost think the artist must have been one. At all events, it is most wonderful how Roos has been able to think and feel himself into the very soul of these creatures, so as to make the internal character peer with such force through the outward covering. Here you see what a great talent can do when it keeps steady to subjects which are congenial with its nature."

"Has not, then," said I, "this artist also painted dogs, cats, and beasts of prey with similar truth; nay, with this great gift of assuming a mental state foreign to himself, has he not been able to delineate human character with equal fidelity?"

"No," said Goethe; "all that lay out of his sphere, but the gentle, grass-eating animals—sheep, goats, cows, and the like—he was never weary of repeating; this was the peculiar province of his talent, which he did not quit during the whole course of his life. And in this he did well. A sympathy with these animals was born with him, a knowledge of their psychological condition was given him, and thus he had so fine an eye for their bodily structure. Other creatures were perhaps not so transparent to him, and therefore he felt neither calling nor impulse to paint them."[262]

LORD COCKBURN AND THE SHEEP.

Lord Cockburn, the proprietor of Bonaly, that pretty place on the slopes of the Pentlands, was sitting on the hill-side with the shepherd, and, observing the sheep reposing in the coldest situation, he observed to him, "John, if I were a sheep, I would lie on the other side of the hill." The shepherd answered, "Ay, my lord, but if ye had been a sheep, ye would hae had mair sense."[263]

WOOLSACK.

Colman and Banister, dining one day with Lord Erskine, the ex-chancellor, amongst other things, observed that he had then about three thousand head of sheep. "I perceive," interrupted Colman, "your lordship has still an eye to the woolsack."[264]

SANDY WOOD AND HIS PETS, A SHEEP AND A RAVEN.

Alexander Wood, a kind-hearted surgeon, who died in his native town of Edinburgh in May 1807, aged eighty-two, is alluded to by Sir Walter Scott in a prophecy put into the mouth of Meg Merrilees in "Guy Mannering"—"They shall beset his goat; they shall profane his raven," &c.

The editor of "Kaye's Edinburgh Portraits"[265] says that, besides his kindness of disposition to his fellow-creatures, "he was almost equally remarkable for his love of animals. His pets were numerous, and of all kinds. Not to mention dogs and cats, there were two others that individually were better known to the citizens of Edinburgh—a sheep and a raven, the latter of which is alluded to by Scott in 'Guy Mannering.' Willy, the sheep, pastured in the ground adjoining to the Excise Office, now the Royal Bank, and might be daily seen standing at the railings, watching Mr Wood's passing to or from his house in York Place, when Willy used to poke his head into his coat-pocket, which was always filled with supplies for his favourite, and would then trot along after him through the town, and sometimes might be found in the houses of the doctor's patients. The raven was domesticated at an ale and porter shop in North Castle Street, which is still, or very lately was, marked by a tree growing from the area against the wall. It also kept upon the watch for Mr Wood, and would recognise him even as he passed at some distance along George Street, and, taking a low flight towards him, was frequently his companion during some part of his forenoon walks; for Mr Wood never entered his carriage when he could possibly avoid it, declaring that unless a vehicle could be found that would carry him down the closes and up the turnpike stairs, they produced nothing but trouble and inconvenience."

GENERAL CARNAC AND HIS SHE-GOAT.

It is pleasant to see, and not rare to find in men of warlike habits, a love for animals. The goat or deer that used often to march before a regiment with the band as they proceeded to a review in Bruntsfield Links, when the writer and his friends were boys, about 1826 to 1832, he well remembers. Nor is Edinburgh garrison singular.

General Carnac, in 1770, communicated to Dr William Hunter some observations on the keenness of smell and its exquisite sensibility. He says—"I have frequently observed of tame deer, to whom bread is often given, and which they are in general fond of, that if you present them a piece that has been bitten, they will not touch it. I have made the same observation of a remarkably fine she-goat, which accompanied me in most of my campaigns in India, and supplied me with milk, and which, in gratitude for her services, I brought from abroad with me."[266]

JOHN HUNTER AND THE SHAWL-GOAT.

HUNTER'S METHOD OF INTRODUCING STRANGE ANIMALS PEACEFULLY TO OTHERS IN HIS MENAGERIE.

It is pleasant to meet with a notice of the pursuits of the great anatomist, John Hunter, in a rather out-of-the-way book.[267] The ingenious way in which he introduced strange animals into his menagerie is worthy of notice.

"The variety of birds and beasts to be met with at Earl's Court (the villa of the celebrated and much-lamented Mr John Hunter) is matter of great entertainment. In the same ground you are surprised to find so many living animals in one herd, from the most opposite parts of the habitable globe. Buffaloes, rams, and sheep from Turkey, and a shawl-goat from the East Indies, are among the most remarkable of those that meet the eye; and as they feed together in the greatest harmony, it is natural to inquire, what means are taken to make them so familiar, and well acquainted with each other. Mr Hunter told me, that when he has a stranger to introduce, he does it by ordering the whole herd to be taken to a strange place, either a field, an empty stable, or any other large out-house, with which they are all alike unaccustomed. The strangeness of the place so totally engages their attention, as to prevent them from running at, and fighting with, the new-comer, as they most probably would do in their own fields (in regard to which they entertain very high notions of their exclusive right of property), and here they are confined for some hours, till they appear reconciled to the stranger, who is then turned out with his new friends, and is generally afterwards well-treated. The shawl-goat was not, however, so easily reconciled to his future companions; he attacked them, instead of waiting to be attacked; fought several battles, and at present appears master of the field.

"It is from the down that grows under the coarse hair of this species of goat, that the fine India shawls are manufactured.[268] This beautiful as well as useful animal was brought over only last June from Bombay, in the Duke of Montrose Indiaman, Captain Dorin. The female, unfortunately, died. It was very obligingly presented by the directors to Sir John Sinclair, the President of the British Wool Society. It is proposed, under Mr Hunter's care, to try some experiment with it in England, by crossing it with other breeds of the goat species, before it is sent to the north."

As anything that met with Mr Hunter's approval must have been a judicious arrangement, I may quote from the same source the passage about the buildings for his cattle at Earl's Court.

"Mr Hunter has built his stables half under ground; also vaults, in which he keeps his cows, buffaloes, and hogs. Such buildings, more especially the arched byres, or cow-houses, retain a more equal temperature at all times, in regard both to heat and cold, and consequently are cooler in summer and warmer in winter; and in situations where ground is so valuable as in the neighbourhood of London, are an excellent contrivance. Mr Hunter has his hay-yard over his buffaloes' stables. The expense of vaulting does not exceed that of building and roofing common cow-houses; and the vaults have this essential advantage or preference, that they require no repairs." He then gives an account of some buffaloes which Mr Hunter had trained to work in a cart, and which became so steady and tractable, that they were often driven through London streets in the loaded cart, much, no doubt, to the astonishment of passers-by. With a glimpse of a very beautiful little cow at Earl's Court, from a buffalo and an Alderney, which was always plump and fat, and gave very good milk, we must take leave of John Hunter's menagerie.

COMMODORE KEPPEL "BEARDS" THE DEY OF ALGIERS.—A GOAT.

Sir Joshua Reynolds, when twenty-five, sailed to the Mediterranean in 1749 with the Hon. Augustus Keppel, then a captain in the navy, and afterwards Viscount Keppel. In 1750, Commodore Keppel returned to Algiers to remonstrate with the dey on the renewed depredations of the Corsairs. The dey, surprised at his boldness, for he anchored close to the palace, and attended by his captain and a barge's crew, went boldly into the presence of the Algerine monarch to demand satisfaction, exclaimed, that he wondered at the insolence of the King of Great Britain sending him a beardless boy.

Keppel was only twenty-four, but he is said to have answered, "that had his Majesty, the King of Great Britain, estimated the degree of wisdom by the length of the beard, he would have sent him a goat as an ambassador." Northcote is in doubt of the truth of this speech having been made, but says, that it is certain Keppel answered with great boldness.[269] The tyrant is said to have actually ordered his mutes to advance with the bow-string, telling the commodore that his life should answer for his audacity. Keppel quietly pointed out to the dey the squadron at anchor, and told him, that if it was his pleasure to put him to death, there were Englishmen enough on board to make a funeral pile of his capital. The dey cooled a little, allowed the commodore to depart, and made satisfaction for the damage done, and promised to abstain from violence in future.

FOOTNOTES:

[260] Mark Lemon, "Jest Book," p. 18.

[261] Translated from the German by John Oxenford, vol. i., p. 138.

[262] Roos must have been limited in his powers, unlike our Landseer, who paints dogs, sheep, horses, cows, stags, and fowls with equal power.

[263] Dean Ramsay's "Reminiscences of Scottish Life and Character," 10th edition, p. 19.

[264] Mark Lemon, "Jest Book," p. 214.

[265] There are two copperplates devoted to the figure and portrait of "lang Sandy Wood," as he was called.

[266] "Philosophical Transactions," LXI. p. 176 (1771). Paper on Nyl-ghau, with plate, by George Stubbs, engraved by Basire.

[267] Baird, "Report on the County of Middlesex," quoted in view of the agriculture of Middlesex, &c., pp. 341, 342, by John Middleton, Esq. London: 1798.

[268] The wool which grows on different parts of their bodies, under very long hair, is obtained by gently combing them.

[269] "Life of Sir Joshua Reynolds," vol. i., p. 32.



CALVES AND KINE.

The little anecdote of Gilpin and the three cows illustrates one elegant use of the subjects of the following paragraphs. What home landscape like that painted by Alfred Tennyson would be perfect without its cows? Many anecdotes of them could be collected. The Irish are celebrated for their "bulls," one of them is not the worse for having "Bulls" for its subject. Patrick was telling, so the story goes, that there were four "Bull Inns" in a certain English town. "There are but three," said a native of the place, who knew them well; "the Black Bull, the White Bull, and the Red Bull,—where is the fourth?"—"Sure and do you not know, the Dun Cow—the best of them all?" replied the unconscious Milesian.

A GREAT CALF.

Sir William B——, being at a parish meeting, made some proposals, which were objected to by a farmer. Highly enraged, "Sir," says he to the farmer, "do you know, sir, that I have been at the two universities, and at two colleges in each university?"—"Well, sir," said the farmer, "what of that? I had a calf that sucked two cows, and the observation I made was, the more he sucked, the greater calf he grew."[270]

RATHER TOO MUCH OF A GOOD THING.—VEAL ad nauseam.

At the table of Lord Polkemmet, when the covers were removed, the dinner was seen to consist of veal broth, a roast fillet of veal, veal cutlets, a florentine (an excellent Scotch dish, composed of veal), a calf's head, calf's foot jelly. The worthy judge observing an expression of surprise among his guests, who, even in Shetland in early spring would have had the veal varied with fish, broke out in explanation, "Ou, ay, it's a cauf! when we kill a beast, we just eat up one side, and down the tither."

* * * * *

Boswell, the friend and biographer of Johnson, when a young man, went to the pit of Covent Garden Theatre, in company with Dr Blair, and in a frolic imitated the lowing of a cow; and the universal cry in the gallery was, "Encore the cow! encore the cow!" This was complied with, and in the pride of success, Boswell attempted to imitate some other animals, but with less success. Dr Blair, anxious for the fame of his friend, addressed him thus, "My dear sir, I would confine myself to the cow."[271]

ADAM CLARKE AND HIS BULLOCK PAT.

The Rev. Adam Clarke, LL.D., after one of his evangelical visits to Ireland, returned to his home at Millbrook. In writing to his sons he says—"Not only your mother, sisters, and brother, were glad to see me, but also my poor animals in the field, for I lost no time in going to visit them. I found the donkey lame, and her son looking much like a philosopher; it was strange that even the bullock, whom we call Pat, came to me in the field, and held out his most honest face for me to stroke it. The next time I went to him he came running up, and actually placed his two fore-feet upon my shoulders, with all the affection of a spaniel; but it was a load of kindness I could ill bear, for the animal is nearly three years old; I soon got his feet displaced; strange and uncouth as this manifestation of affectionate gratitude was, yet with it the master and his steer Pat were equally well pleased; so here is a literal comment on 'The ox knoweth his owner;' and you see I am in league with even the beasts of the field."[272]

SAMUEL FOOTE AND THE COWS PULLING THE BELL OF WORCESTER COLLEGE CHAPEL.

Samuel Foote was a student at Worcester College, Oxford, and when there he practised many tricks, and soon found out what was ridiculous in any man's character.

His biographer[273] records one of these tricks which he played off on Dr Gower, the provost of the college. "The church belonging to the college fronted the side of a lane where cattle were sometimes turned out to graze during the night, and from the steeple hung the bell rope, very low in the middle of the outside porch. Foote saw in this an object likely to produce some fun, and immediately set about to accomplish his purpose. He accordingly one night slyly tied a wisp of hay to the rope, as a bait for the cows in their peregrination to the grazing ground. The scheme succeeded to his wish. One of the cows soon after smelling the hay as she passed by the church door, instantly seized on it, and, by tugging at the rope, made the bell ring, to the astonishment of the sexton and the whole parish.

"This happened several nights successively, and the incident gave rise to various reports, such as not only that the church was haunted by evil spirits, but that several spectres were seen walking about the churchyard in all those hideous and frightful shapes which fear, ignorance, and fancy usually suggest on such occasions.

"An event of this kind, however, was to be explored, for the honour of philosophy, as well as for the quiet of the parish. Accordingly the doctor and the sexton agreed to sit up one night, and on the first alarm to run out and drag the culprit to condign punishment. Their plan being arranged, they waited with the utmost impatience for the appointed signal; at last the bell began to sound its usual alarm, and they both sallied out in the dark, determined on making a discovery. The sexton was the first in the attack. He seized the cow by the tail, and cried out, 'It was a gentleman commoner, as he had him by the tail of his gown;' while the doctor, who had caught the cow by the horns at the same time, immediately replied, 'No, no, you blockhead, 'tis the postman, and here I have hold of the rascal by his blowing-horn.' Lights, however, were immediately brought, when the character of the real offender was discovered, and the laugh of the whole town was turned upon the doctor."

THE GENERAL'S COW.

At Plymouth there is, or was, a small green opposite the Government House, over which no one was permitted to pass. Not a creature was allowed to approach save the general's cow. One day old Lady D—— having called at the general's, in order to make a short cut, bent her steps across the lawn, when she was arrested by the sentry calling out and desiring her to return. "But," said Lady D——, with a stately air, "do you know who I am?"—"I don't know who you be, ma'am," replied the immovable sentry, "but I knows you b'aint—you b'aint the general's cow." So Lady D—— wisely gave up the argument and went the other way.[274]

GILPIN'S LOVE OF THE PICTURESQUE CARRIED OUT.—A REASON FOR KEEPING THREE COWS.

Lord Sidmouth told the Rev. C. Smith Bird that he was partly educated at Cheam, by Mr Gilpin, the author of many volumes on "Picturesque Scenery." He was but a poor scholar, but seems to have been loved by his pupils. He carried out his regard for the picturesque, as would appear by the following anecdote[275]—

"In visiting the Rev. Mr Gilpin at his house in the New Forest on one occasion, his lordship observed three cows feeding in a small paddock, which he knew to be all that Mr Gilpin had to feed them in. He asked Mr Gilpin how he came to have so many cows when he had so little land? 'The truth is,' said he, 'I found one cow would not do—she went dry.'—'Well,' said Lord Sidmouth, 'but why not be content with another? Two, by good management, might be made to supply you constantly with milk.'—'Oh, yes,' said the old gentleman, 'but two would not group.'"

KING JAMES ON A COW GETTING OVER THE BORDER.

In the "Life of Bernard Gilpin," his biographer refers to the inhabitants of the Borders being such great adepts in the art of thieving, that they could twist a cow's horn, or mark a horse, so as its owners could not know it, and so subtle that no vigilance could watch against them. A person telling King James a surprising story of a cow that had been driven from the north of Scotland into the south of England, and escaping from the herd had found her way home; "The most surprising part of the story," the king replied, "you lay least stress on—that she passed unstolen through the debateable land."[276]

DUKE OF MONTAGUE AND HIS HOSPITAL FOR OLD COWS AND HORSES.

The Rev. Joseph Spence[277] records that "the Duke of Montague has an hospital for old cows and horses; none of his tenants near Boughton dare kill a broken-winded horse; they must bring them all to the reservoir. The duke keeps a lap-dog, the ugliest creature he could meet with; he is always fond of the most hideous, and says he was at first kind to them, because nobody else would be."

PHILIP IV. OF SPAIN IN THE BULL-RING.

This king, whose form and features are so well known from the pictures of Velasquez, was entertained magnificently by his great favourite Olivares, in 1631. At this festival, which was in honour of the birthday of the heir apparent, the sports of ancient Rome were renewed in the bull-ring of Spain. In his life by Mr Stirling,[278] it is recorded that "a lion, a tiger, a bear, a camel—in fact, a specimen of every procurable wild animal, or, as Quevedo expressed it in a poetical account of the spectacle, 'the whole ark of Noah, and all the fables of AEsop,' were turned loose into the spacious Plaza del Parque, to fight for the mastery of the arena. To the great delight of his Castilian countrymen, a bull of Xarama vanquished all his antagonists. The 'bull of Marathon, which ravaged the country of Tetrapolis,' says the historian of the day, 'was not more valiant; nor did Theseus, who slew and sacrificed him, gain greater glory than did our most potent sovereign. Unwilling that a beast which had behaved so bravely should go unrewarded, his majesty determined to do him the greatest favour that the animal himself could have possibly desired, had he been gifted with reason—to wit, to slay him with his own royal hand! Calling for his fowling-piece, he brought it instantly to his shoulder, and the flash and report were scarcely seen and heard ere the mighty monster lay a bleeding corpse before the transported lieges. Yet not a moment,' continues the chronicler, 'did his majesty lose his wonted serenity, his composure of countenance, and becoming gravity of aspect; and but for the presence of so great a concourse of witnesses, it was difficult to believe that he had really fired the noble and successful shot.'"

SYDNEY SMITH AND HIS CATTLE.—HIS "UNIVERSAL SCRATCHER."

The Rev. Sydney Smith, when at Foston, used to call for his hat and stick immediately after dinner, and sallied forth for his evening stroll. His daughter,[279] who often accompanied him, remarks—"Each cow and calf, and horse and pig, were in turn visited, and fed, and patted, and all seemed to welcome him; he cared for their comforts as he cared for the comforts of every living being around him. He used to say, 'I am all for cheap luxuries, even for animals; now all animals have a passion for scratching their back bones. They break down your gates and palings to effect this. Look! there is my universal scratcher, a sharp-edged pole, resting on a high and a low post, adapted to every height, from a horse to a lamb. Even the Edinburgh Reviewer can take his turn. You have no idea how popular it is. I have not had a gate broken since I put it up. I have it in all my fields.'"

REV. AUGUSTUS TOPLADY ON THE FUTURE STATE OF ANIMALS.

The Rev. Josiah Bull, in the "Memorials of the Rev. William Bull of Newport, Pagnel,"[280] the friend of Cowper, the poet, and the Rev. John Newton, tells the following anecdote, in which a favourite theory of the author of that exquisite hymn, "Rock of Ages Cleft for Me," is alluded to, and somewhat comically illustrated by the author of the "Olney Hymns:"—

"Mr Newton had been dining with Mr Bull, and they were quietly sitting together, following after 'the things whereby they might edify one another,' and that search aided by 'interposing puffs' of the fragrant weed. It was in that old study I so well remember, ere it was renovated to meet the demands of modern taste. A room some eighteen feet square, with an arched roof, entirely surrounded with many a precious volume, with large, old casement windows, and immense square chairs of fine Spanish mahogany. There these good men were quietly enjoying their tete-a-tete, when they were startled by a thundering knock at the door; and in came Mr Ryland of Northampton, abruptly exclaiming, 'If you wish to see Mr Toplady, you must go immediately with me to the "Swan." He is on his way to London, and will not live long.' They all proceeded to the inn, and there found the good man, emaciated with disease, and evidently fast hastening to the grave. As they were talking together, they were attracted by a great noise in the street, occasioned, as they found on looking out, by a bull-baiting which was going on before the house. Mr Toplady was touched by the cruelty of the scene, and exclaimed, 'Who could bear to see that sight, if there were not to be some compensation for these poor suffering animals in a future state?'—'I certainly hope,' said my grandfather, 'that all the bulls will go to heaven; but do you think this will be the case with all the animal creation?'—'Yes, certainly,' replied Mr Toplady, with great emphasis, 'all, all!'—'What!' rejoined Mr Newton, with some sarcasm in his tone, 'do you suppose, sir, there will be fleas in heaven? for I have a special aversion to them.' Mr Toplady said nothing, but was evidently hurt; and as they separated, Mr Newton said, 'How happy he should be to see him at Olney, if God spared his life, and he were to come that way again.' The reply Mr Toplady made was not very courteous; but the good man was perhaps suffering from the irritation of disease, and possibly annoyed by the ridicule cast upon a favourite theory."

RIGHT HONOURABLE WILLIAM WINDHAM, M.P., ON THE FEELINGS OF A BAITED BULL.

That great parliamentary orator, the Right Honourable William Windham, lived before the days when humanity to animals was deemed a fit subject for legislation.

In his speech against "the bill for preventing the practice of bull-baiting" (April 18, 1800),[281] he refers to the introduction of such a measure as follows—"In turning from the great interests of this country, and of Europe, to discuss with equal solemnity such measures as that which is now before us, the House appears to me to resemble Mr Smirk, the auctioneer, in the play, who could hold forth just as eloquently upon a ribbon as upon a Raphael." He speaks of bull-baiting as being, "it must be confessed, at the expense of an animal which is not by any means a party to the amusement; but then," he adds, "it serves to cultivate the qualities of a certain species of dogs, which affords as much pleasure to their owners as greyhounds do to others. It is no small recommendation to bull-dogs that they are so much in repute with the populace." In a second speech, May 24, 1802, he said that he believed "the bull felt a satisfaction in the contest, not less so than the hound did when he heard the sound of the horn that summoned him to the chase. True it was that young bulls, or those which were never baited before, showed reluctance to be tied to the stake; but those bulls which, according to the language of the sport, were called game bulls, who were used to baiting, approached the stake, and stood there while preparing for the contest, with the utmost composure. If the bull felt no pleasure, and was cruelly dealt with, surely the dogs had also some claim to compassion; but the fact was that both seemed equally arduous in the conflict; and the bull, like every other animal, while it had the better side, did not dislike his situation—it would be ridiculous to say he felt no pain—yet, when on such occasions he exhibited no signs of terror, it was a demonstrable proof that he felt some pleasure."

The "sober loyal men" of Stamford, it would seem, had petitioned for the continuance of their annual sport, which had been continued for a period of five or six hundred years, and who were displeased with their landlord, the Marquis of Exeter, for his endeavours to put down their cruel sport. Windham refers to "the antiquity of the thing being deserving of respect, for respect for antiquity was the best preservation of the Church and State!!"

FOOTNOTES:

[270] Mark Lemon, "Jest Book," p. 36.

[271] Mark Lemon, "Jest Book," p. 111.

[272] "An Account of the Religious and Literary Life of Adam Clarke, LL.D., F.A.S.," by a Member of his Family, vol ii., p. 346.

[273] "Memoirs of Samuel Foote, Esq.," by Wm. Cooke, Esq., vol. i., p. 13.

[274] Mark Lemon, "Jest Book", p. 246.

[275] Lord Sidmouth lived near Burghfield, where Mr Bird kept pupils, and was curate. See "Sketches from the Life of the Rev. Charles Smith Bird."

[276] "Lives of Hugh Latimer and Bernard Gilpin," by the Rev. William Gilpin, p. 271.

[277] Anecdotes. Supplement, p. 249 (Singer's edition). Spence died in 1768, aged 70.

[278] "Velasquez and his Works," by William Stirling, p. 62.

[279] Lady Holland's "Memoirs of her Father, the Rev. Sydney Smith," vol. i., p. 118.

[280] "Memorials of the Rev. William Bull of Newport, Pagnel," &c., by his grandson, the Rev. Josiah Bull, M.A. 1864.

[281] "Speeches in Parliament of the Right Honourable William Windham, to which is prefixed some account of his Life," by Thomas Amyot, Esq., vol. i. pp. 332, 353 (1812).



WHALES.

Last and greatest of the mammalia are the whales. The adventures of hardy seamen, like Scoresby, in the pursuit of the Greenland whale, or Beale in the more dangerous chase of the spermaceti, in southern waters, form the subjects of more than one readable volume. But here we give no such extracts, but content ourselves with four short skits, having the cetacea for their subject.

In these days of zoological gardens, they have succeeded in bringing one of the smallest of the order, a porpoise, to the Zoological Gardens. His speedy dissolution showed that even the bath of a hippopotamus or an elephant was too limited for the dwelling of this pre-eminently marine creature. But he had begun to show an intelligence, they say, which, independently of all zoological and anatomical considerations, showed that he had nothing in common with a fish, but a somewhat similar form, and an equal necessity for abundance of the pure liquid element.

WHALEBONE.

A thin old man, with a rag-bag in his hand, was picking up a number of small pieces of whalebone, which lay on the street. The deposit was of such a singular nature, that we asked the quaint-looking gatherer how he supposed they came there? "Don't know," he replied, in a squeaking voice; "but I s'pect some unfortunate female was wrecked hereabout somewhere."[282]

* * * * *

A Scotch lady, who was discomposed by the introduction of gas, asked with much earnestness, "What's to become o' the puir whales?' deeming their interests materially affected by this superseding of their oil."[283]

VERY LIKE A WHALE.

The first of all the royal infant males Should take the title of the Prince of Wales: Because, 'tis clear to seamen and to lubber, Babies and whales are both inclined to blubber.[284]

CHRISTOPHER NORTH ON THE WHALE.

Tickler. What fish, James, would you incline to be, if put into scales?

Shepherd. A dolphin: for they hae the speed o' lichtnin. They'll dart past and roun' about a ship in full sail before the wind, just as if she was at anchor. Then the dolphin is a fish o' peace,—he saved the life o' a poet of auld, Arion, wi' his harp,—and oh! they say the cretur's beautifu' in death. Byron, ye ken, comparin' his hues to those o' the sun settin' ahint the Grecian isles. I sud like to be a dolphin.

* * * * *

Shepherd. Let me see—I sud hae nae great objections to be a whale in the Polar Seas. Gran' fun to fling a boatfu' o' harpooners into the air—or, wi' ae thud o' your tail, to drive in the stern posts o' a Greenlandman.

Tickler. Grander fun still, James, to feel the inextricable harpoon in your blubber, and to go snoving away beneath an ice-floe with four miles of line connecting you with your distant enemies.

Shepherd. But, then, whales marry but ae wife, and are passionately attached to their offspring. There they and I are congenial speerits. Nae fish that swims enjoys so large a share of domestic happiness.

Tickler. A whale, James, is not a fish.

Shepherd. Isna he? Let him alane for that. He's ca'd a fish in the Bible, and that's better authority than Buffon. Oh that I were a whale![285]

* * * * *

With these sentences, we conclude this book, as well as our selections on the whale. In the Museum at Edinburgh may be seen one of the finest, if not the most perfect, skeleton of a whale exhibited in this kingdom. Our young readers there can soon see, by examining it from the gallery, that the whale is no "fish."

FOOTNOTES:

[282] Mark Lemon, "Jest Book," p. 122.

[283] Ibid., p. 201.

[284] Ibid., p. 142.

[285] "Noctes Ambrosianae," Works of Professor Wilson, vol. ii., p. 4.



INDEX.

Addison and Steele on the peculiarities of the natural history collectors, 5-8

Albert's horse at Brussels, 256.

Ammonianus and his ass, 279.

Androcles and the lion, 167-169.

Ant-eater, the great, 225-229.

Arctic fox, 142-148.

Ass, Sydney Smith on sagacity of, 283.

Ass and zebra, 276.

Ass's foal, 278.

Asses with deers' antlers fastened on heads, 284; duty free, 284.

Asylum for animals, 265, 266.

Austrian general and a bear, 58, 59.

Aye-aye, its singular structure and habits, 36-38.

Baboons, Lady Anne Barnard on, 24, 25.

Babylon, bas-relief of dog found at, 86, 87.

Babyrusa, 240.

Back, Sir George, anecdote of Arctic lemming, 196.

Badger, 71; anecdotes of, 72-75.

Baird, origin of name, 241.

Barrentz on white or Polar bear, 64.

Barnard, Lady Anne, pleads for the baboons, 24, 25; on some rabbits, 222.

Bats, fantastic faces of, 38, 39.

Bearable pun, 61.

Bears, 56, 57; anecdotes of, 58-70.

Beechey, Captain, on Polar bear, 63; on the walrus, 184-186, 187.

Bell, Professor, on cats, 149.

Bell, Sir Charles, on the head of a pig, 239.

Bell-Rock horse, 257.

Bentham, Jeremy, and his pet cat, 150-152; and the mice, 205, 206.

Berwickshire, names of places in, derived from swine, 241.

Bess, a pet hare of the poet Cowper's, 216.

Bisset and his trained monkeys, 25, 26; musical cats, 152, 153; trained hares and turtle, 221, 222; learned pig, 250.

Black Dwarf's cat, 157.

Blomfield, Bishop, bitten by a dog, 88.

Boar, wild, 239-245.

Border, cow getting across, 309.

Borneo, the home of the orang, 11.

Boswell imitates the lowing of a cow, 305.

Bradford, Earl of, on the number of legs of a sheep, 296.

Bristol, Bishop of, comparing Cambridge freshmen to puppies, 89.

Brock, or badger, 72.

Brown, Dr John, "Rab" and "Our Dogs," 78.

Browning, Mrs Elizabeth Barrett, lines on her dog Flush, 89-93.

Browning's, Robert, description of rats, 199.

Bull, an Irish, 304.

Bull, Rev. Wm., Newton, and Toplady, anecdote of, 312.

Bull-baiting at Olney, 313; Windham on, 314.

Bull-ring, Philip IV. in, 310.

Bullock and Dr Adam Clarke, 305, 306.

Burke, Edmund, question when interrupted, 149; anecdote of his humanity, 257, 258.

Burns' "Twa Dogs," 81, 82; the field-mouse, 206-208.

Bush-pig, 148.

Bussapa, the tiger-slayer, 162-164.

Buxton, Sir Thomas Fowell, Bart., and his dog Speaker, 93, 94.

Byron on his dog, 79; on Boatswain, a Newfoundland dog, 94, 95; pets, 26, 27; bear at Cambridge, 59.

"Calamity," a horse of Sydney Smith's, 272.

Calf, a great, 304.

Calves and kine, 304.

Camel, Captain Wm. Peel on, 287-289.

Campbell, Colonel, account of Bussapa and the tiger, 162-164.

Canova's sculptured lions and the child, 171-173.

Carnac and the she-goat, 299.

Cats, 149-161.

Cat's letter, by Montgomery, 156.

Cattle of Sydney Smith, and their universal scratcher, 311.

Chalmers, Dr, and the guinea-pig, 223, 224.

Cheiroptera, the order which contains the bats, 38, 39.

Children and horses cannot explain their complaints, 269.

Chimpanzee, Mr Mitchell on the habits of a young one, 22-42.

China, roasted pups eaten in, 78.

Chiromys Madagascariensis, its habits, 36-38.

Choiropotamus Africanus, 140.

Choiseul, Madame de, and her pet monkey and parrot, 33, 34.

Chunie, the elephant, 230.

Clare's dog and Curran, 98.

Clarke, Dr Adam, on Shetland seals, 175, 176; his bullock Pat, 305.

Clive's, Lord, handwriting misunderstood, 230.

Cockburn, Lord, and the sheep at Bonaly, 298.

Collie at Cultershaw, 82.

Collins, Wm., R.A., and Sir David Wilkie, 3; the rat-catcher with the ferret, 76; his dog Prinny, 96, 97; paints Odell's old donkey, 277.

Collins, W. Wilkie, Sir David Wilkie's first remark on him, 3, 4.

Constant and his cat, 153.

Cook's sailor, who took a fox-bat for the devil, 40.

Cooke, Major-General, 189.

Coon, a gone, 71.

Couthon and the spaniel, 195.

Cowper's narrative of his pet hares, 213-219; dog Beau and the water-lily, 79-81.

Cows, anecdotes of, 306-311.

Cross, Edward, of Exeter Change and Walworth, 33.

Cruelty to horses in Ireland, 275.

Cunningham, Major, on Ladak dog, 86.

Curran on Lord Clare's dog, 98.

Cuvier and the fossil, 236.

Cynocephali, or African baboons, 9, 24, 25.

Dalhousie, Earl of, and the ferocious red-deer, 291.

Dandie Dinmont educates his terriers, 122.

Davis, Sir George, and the lion, 170, 171.

Deer family, 290, 291; their sensibility of smell, 300.

Dessin Island, rabbits on, blind of one eye, 222.

Dickens on sellers of bears' grease, 59, 60.

Dog and the French murderers, 104, 105.

Dog-cheap, 100.

Dog-matic, 113.

Dog-rose, 133.

Dogs, 77-87.

Douglas, General, and the rats, 201.

Dragon-fly exhibited at a show, 61.

Dresden, Battle of, General Moreau killed at, 113.

Drew on the instinct of dogs, 98-100.

Dromedary, Capt. Peel on its rate of motion, 289.

Dunbar, Rev. Rowland Hill at, 261.

Durian, an eastern fruit, 14.

Earl's Court, Hunter's menagerie at, 300-302.

Eastern dogs, 84, 85.

Echidna aculeata, 192.

Edentata, 228.

Edmonstone, Dr, on Shetland seals, 176-182.

Eglintoun, Countess of, her fondness for rats, 200, 201.

Elephant and his trunk, 232; anecdotes of, 234-236.

Epomophorus, a genus of tropical bats alluded to by the poet-laureate, 39.

Erskine's sheep and the woolsack, 298.

Esquimaux dogs, 78, 86.

Ettrick Shepherd's monkey, 27, 28; on fox-hunting, 139-141; on whales, 316.

Fabricius on Arctic fox, 143.

Ferret, 75, 76.

Field mouse turned up by Robert Burns, 206-208.

Findhorn fisherman and monkey, 29, 30.

Flush, lines to her dog, by Mrs Browning, 89-93.

Foote, Samuel, makes cows pull bell at Oxford, 306.

Forster, Dr, on the fox-bats of the Friendly Islands, 42, 43.

Fournier on the squirrel, 196.

Fowler the tailor and Gainsborough the artist, 2, 3.

Fox, Charles James, on the poll-cat, 77.

Fox, 138.

Fox-hunting, from the "Noctes," 139-141.

Fox-bats, particulars of their history, 41-47.

Frederick the Great and his Italian greyhounds, 104.

French count at deer-stalking, 293, 294; dogs, time of Louis XI., 110; marquis and his monkey, 30, 31.

Fry, Mrs, on Irish pigs, 252.

Fuller, Thomas, on destructive fieldmice, 208, 209.

Fuller on Norfolk rabbits, 223.

Fuseli on Northcote's picture of Balaam and the Ass, 281.

Future state of animals, Toplady on, 312.

Gainsborough and Fowler the tailor, 2, 3; his wife and their dogs, 100, 101; pigs, countryman on, 252; kept an ass, 277.

Garrick and the horse, 259.

Gell, Sir William, his dog, 101.

General's cow at Plymouth, 308.

George III. at Winchester, meets Garrick, 259.

George IV. visited at Windsor by "Happy Jerry," 32.

Gilpin's, Bernard, horses stolen and recovered, 260.

Gilpin's, Rev. Mr, love of the picturesque, 308.

Gilray's caricature of Fox and Burke as dogs, 724.

Gimcrack, the widow, her letter to Mr Bickerstaff on her husband's peculiarities, 6-8.

Giraffe, anecdotes of, 291-295.

Glirine animals, 195, 212.

Goats, anecdotes of, 299, 300.

Goethe on stag-trench at Frankfort, 294; on Roos's etchings of sheep, 296.

Good enough for a pig, 251.

Gordon, Duchess of, and the wolf-dog, 102, 103.

Gorilla and its story, 9-22.

Graham, Rev. W., on dogs in the East, 85.

Grange, the, near Edinburgh, 30.

Gray compares poet-laureate to a rat-catcher, 204, 205.

Gray. Dr, gets large specimen of gorilla, 17.

Greenland seal, 181.

Grotta del Cane, the poor dog at, 111, 112.

Guilford, Lord Keeper, and the rhinoceros, 230.

Guinea pig, Dr Chalmers, 223, 224.

Gunn, Mr, on tiger-wolf, 192, 193.

Haff-fish, the Shetland name for seal, 179.

Hairs or hares, 220.

Hall, Robert, and the dog, 106.

Hamilton, Sir Wm., his definition of man, 1, 2.

Hanover rats, 202, 203.

Happy Jerry, the rib-nosed mandrill, 31, 32.

Hardwicke's lady, sow, 253.

Hares, Mrs Browning on Cowper's, 212; petted by Cowper the poet, 213-219.

Hastings and the refractory donkey, 279.

Heard, the herald, on the horse of George III., 261

Hedgehogs, 48.

Hill, Rev. Rowland, prayed for his horse, 261, 262.

Holcroft on race-horses, 263-265.

Hood's dog Dash, 110.

Hook and the litter of pigs, 253.

Hooker's sea-bear in Regent's Park, 175.

Hospital for old cows and horses, 309.

Horse, 256; that carried stones to build Bell-Rock lighthouse, 257.

Horse exercises, a saying of Rowland Hill's, 263.

Horsemanship of Johnson the Irishman, 257, 258.

Horsfield, Dr, on the Javanese fox-bat, 45, 46.

Hunter, John, and the dead tiger, 165; his menagerie at Earl's Court, 300, 302.

Hunters of Polmood, dog that belonged to, 107.

Impey, Warren Hastings, and the ass, 279, 280.

India shawls, 301.

Inglefield, Capt., on the affection of a Polar bear and her two cubs, 65.

Irish clergyman and the dogs, 108.

Irishman on rat-shooting, 203.

Irving, Washington, and the dog, 108, 109.

Ivory dust, 233.

Jackal, 148, 149.

Jeffrey on a donkey; Sydney Smith's lines on 281, 282.

Jekyll treading on a small pig, 251; on a squirrel, 195.

Jerrold, Douglas, and his dog, 109.

Kangaroo Cooke, 189.

Kangaroos, Charles Lamb on, 188, 189.

Keppel, Commodore, and the Dey of Algiers, 303.

King James, on a cow getting over the Border, 309.

Laird of Balnamoon and the brock, 75.

Lamb, Charles, and the dog, 110; on Kangaroos, 188, 189; on the hare, 212.

Landseer's "Monkeyana," 10; stags, 293.

Lap-dogs before the House of Commons, 124.

Lauder, Sir Thomas Dick, adventures of a monkey in Morayshire, 29, 30.

Laurillard, Cuvier's assistant, 237.

Lawyer's horse, 268.

Lemming, and Arctic voyager, 196; habits of the Arctic, 197, 198.

Leifchild, Dr, at Hoxton, 127.

Leopard, its ferocity when wounded, 161.

Letter from the gorilla, now in British Museum, 13-17.

Lightfoot, name for Sir Edwin Landseer, 293.

Lion and tiger, 166.

Lion, hunts on Assyrian monuments, 162.

Lions on monument of Clement XII., 171-173.

Liston the surgeon and his cat, 153, 154.

Livingston, Dr, on paralysing effect of lion's bite, 162.

Luther observes a dog at Lintz, 111.

Lyon, Capt., on Arctic fox, 144, 145.

Lytton, Sir Edward Bulwer, on the pets of some of the Revolutionary butchers, 195, 196.

Macaulay, Lord, on the last days of King William III., 50-56.

M'Clintock on Arctic fox, 144.

M'Dougall on habits of Arctic lemming, 197.

Macgillivray, John, on a fox-bat from Fitzroy Island, 45.

Mackenzie, Mrs Colin, on the habits of the apes at Simla, 35, 36; on the tiger being worshipped, 166.

Man, Professor Owen on his position, 1; definition of, by Linnaeus, 12; defined in the Linnaean manner, 4.

Mandrill and George IV., 31, 32.

Mansfield's, Lord, joke about a horse, 267.

Marat, the citizen, and his doves, 196.

Markham, Mr Clement, on the Polar bear, 69.

Marsupialia, 188-191.

Mastiff and the soldier, 97.

Matthews, Henry, on the Grotta del Cane, 112.

Mayerne, Dr, and his balsam of bats, 47.

Metcalfe, when a boy, on camel, 290.

Miller, Hugh, on badger-baiting in the Canongate, 72-74.

Miscellaneous eating about a pig, 238.

Mitchell, D. W., on the habits of a young chimpanzee, 22-24.

Mitchell's antipathy to cats, 155.

Model dog of the artist Collins, 96, 97.

Mole, its habits, 49.

Monkey revered by Hindoos, 35.

Monkeys, 9; liable to lung disease in British islands, 22; Rev. Sydney Smith on, 34, 35; poor relations, 34.

Montagu, Duke of, and his hospital for old cows, &c., 309.

Montgomery, James, his translation of a definition of man, 4; and his cats, 155, 156.

Moore, General, and his horse at Corunna, 268.

Moore on Gilpin and Boatswain, two dogs, 95, 96.

Moore, Dr John, sketch of a French marquis and his monkey, 30, 31.

More, Hannah, on dog of Garrick's, 105.

Moreau and his greyhound, 113.

Moses, a dog of Mrs Schimmelpenninck's, 122.

Moth larvae eating at night, 37.

Mounsey, anecdote of, 269.

Mouse that amused Baron von Trenck, 209, 210.

Mules should have their own way, 286.

Museum of John Hunter, 164, 165.

Musical cats, 152, 153.

Musk rat, 200.

Myrmecophaga jubata, 225-229.

Names given to horses, 270-274.

Napier, Charles, and the lion in the Tower, 173.

Natural history collectors of the days of Addison and Steele, 5, 8.

Neill, Dr Patrick, 5.

Nelson and the Polar bear, 67-69; in Arctic seas, 186.

Newfoundland dog, 126.

N'Geena, or gorilla, 18.

Nicol, George, the bookseller and hunter, 165.

Norfolk, Duke of, and his spaniels, 114.

North, Sir Dudley, visits the rhinoceros, 231.

North, Lord, and the dog, 115.

Northcote's Balaam and the Ass, 281.

Norton, Hon. Mrs, address to a dog, 83.

Odell and his old donkey, 277.

Old Jack, a horse that drew stones for building Waterloo Bridge, 270.

Old lady and the beasts on the mound, 173.

Ommaney, Capt., and the Polar bear, 70.

Opossum, 190.

Ornithorhynchus, the duck-bill, 192.

Owen, Professor, on the gorilla, 18; on the aye-aye, 36.

Parasols, how ladies used them at Cross's menagerie, 33.

Parrot and monkey, anecdote of two pets, 33, 34.

Parry, Capt., on flesh of Polar bear, 66.

Paton, Sir J. Noel, has studied physiognomies of bats, &c., 38.

Peale, Titian, on a tame fox-bat, 44.

Peccaries of South America, 240.

Peel, Capt. Wm., on camel, 287-289.

Peracyon, 19.

Perchance, a lap-dog, 96.

Perthes derives hints from his dog, 115.

Peter the Great and his dog Lisette, 161, 117.

Phascolomys vombatus, 193.

Philip IV. in bull-ring, 310.

Phillips, Sir Richard, eats jelly of ivory dust, 233.

Phoca barbata, 180; vitulena, 177.

Pied Piper of Hamelin, extract from, 199.

Pig, monument to, 239.

Pigs and silver spoons, 254.

Plants liked by hares, 218.

Polar bear, its history, 61-70.

Poll-cat, Fox and the, 77.

Polkemmet, Lord, a dinner on veal, 305.

Polson and the last Scottish wolf, 135-137.

Ponsonby and the poodle, 118.

Porpoise in Zoological Gardens, 315.

Pope on dogs, 95.

Porcupine ant-eater, 192.

Postman and carrier dog at Moffat, 113.

Postmen, Capt. Osborn, on Arctic foxes as, 146.

Potamochoerus, 240, 245.

Prinny, a pet dog of Collins the artist, 96, 97.

Prison mouse, 209, 210.

Pteropus conspicillatus, 44; medius, 45.

Puss, a pet hare of the poet Cowper's 214, 215.

Quadrumana, 9-38.

Queen of Charles I. and the lap-dog 107.

Quixote Bowles fond of pigs, 251.

Rabbits, a family all blind of one eye, 222.

Raccoon, 71.

Race-horses, Holcroft's anecdotes of, 263-265.

Ramsgate donkeys, Irishman on, 278.

Rats and mice, 198.

Rats' whiskers good for artists' brushes, 204.

Ravages of rats, 203.

Raven, pet of Wood the surgeon, 299.

Red-deer at Taymouth, 291, 292.

"Relais," a dog belonging to Louis XII., 111.

Revolutionary butchers and their pets, 195, 196.

Rhinoceros and elephant, 229.

Richardson, Sir J., on Arctic fox, 143.

River pig, 245.

Rodent animals, 195, 212.

Rodney, Lord, and his dog Loup, 119.

Rogue elephant, skull of one, 230.

Roos's etchings of sheep, Goethe on, 296, 297.

Ross, Sir James, on Arctic fox, 142, 145.

Rowan berries, dog that fetched, 128.

Ruddiman and his dog Rascal, 119.

Sand liked by hares, 218.

Schimmelpenninck, Mrs, her fondness for dogs, 121.

Scott, Sir Walter, when a boy, saw Burns, 84; his fondness for his dogs, 122; on a fox, 138; visit to the Black Dwarf, 157.

"Scratcher" of Sydney Smith, 311.

Scriptures, dogs mentioned in the, 84, 103, 106.

Seals, their intelligence, 174-182.

Semnopithecus Entellus, an Indian monkey, 35.

Sergent and his spaniel, 196.

Shaved bear at Bristol, 61.

Shawl-goat at John Hunter's menagerie, 301.

Sheep, anecdotes of, 295-298; and goats, 295; pet, of Alex. Wood the surgeon, 299.

Shepherd dogs, 82.

Sheridan and the dog, 109; on the dog-tax, 123.

Shetland seals, 174-182.

Sidmouth, Lord, educated by the Rev. Mr Gilpin, 308.

Skins of rabbits, 223.

Sloth, Sydney Smith on, 224.

Smith, Rev. Sydney, on the differences between man and monkeys, 34, 35; his answer to Landseer, 78; remark on a dog, 88; his dislike of dogs, 124, 125; on pigs, 254; and his horses, 271-274.

Smith and the elephant, 234.

Sorrel, the horse of William III., 51.

Southey and his critics, 48; on dogs, 126; loved cats, 158-160.

Sow and swine, 238-255.

Spencer, Lord, and Rev. Sydney Smith, 124, 125.

Spermophilus Parryi, 197.

Sportsmen, exaggeration of some, 221.

Squirrel, 195.

Stags, anecdotes of, 291-293.

Stag-trench at Frankfort, 294.

Stanhope, Earl, on Jacobites calling adherents of Court "Hanover rats," 202, 203; on the poet Cowper's tastes, 220.

Stapelia, a plant at the Cape, 25.

Stirling Castle, "Lion's den" at, 162.

Stokes, Capt. Lort, on the red-necked fox-bat, 43.

Story, Judge, names he gave his horses, 274.

Sturge and the pigs, 255.

Surgeon, an enthusiastic fox-hunting, 138.

Swinton, origin of name, 241.

Sykes, Colonel, on the flesh of a fox-bat, 45.

Syria, wild boar in, 244.

Tail, short-tailed and long-tailed horses, 275.

Tailor and the elephant, 235.

Tamandua, or ant-eater, 226.

Tennyson, lines on man, and modern systems, 10; lines describing tropical bats, 39.

Thackeray on the Egyptian donkey, 285.

Thalassarctos maritimus—the polar bear, 61-70.

Thylacinus Harrisii, 191.

Tibetan mastiff, 86, 87.

Tiger and lion, 161.

Tigers' claws and whiskers regarded as charms, 165.

Tiger-wolf of Tasmania, 190-194.

Tiney, a pet hare of Cowper's, 216.

Toplady on future state of animals, 312.

Tonton, Walpole's pet dog, 129, 130.

Trained monkeys, 26.

Trenck and the tame mouse in prison, 209.

Trichechus rosmarus, 183.

True, on dog being a good judge of eloquence, 127.

Ulysses and his dog, 133.

Ursus lotor, why raccoon was so called, 71.

Veal ad nauseam, 304

Venison fat, 294.

Vulpes lagopus, 142.

Walker, Dr David, on Polar bear, 62.

Wallace, Alfred, on orang-utan, 11; on great ant-eater, 227.

Walpole, Horace, the young lady's pet monkey and her parrot, 33, 34; pet dog Rosette, lines on, 129.

Walrus, history of, 182-188.

Waterton, Charles, letter from, on young gorilla, 18-20; letter to Mrs Wombwell on her young gorilla, 21; "Hanover rats," 202.

Watt, James, on rats' whiskers, 204.

Wellington's story of musk rat, 200.

Whalebone, 315.

Whales, 315, 317.

Whateley, Archbishop, and his dogs, 131, 132; on a cat that rung the bell, 160.

Wild boar, 239-245.

Wilkie, Sir David, and the baby, 3, 4; and the puppy, 133.

William III., his death, as related by Lord Macaulay, 49-56.

Wilson, the American ornithologist, and the mouse, 211.

Windham, Right Hon. William, on Capt. Phipps's Arctic expedition, 67, 68; on the feelings of a baited bull, 313.

Wolf, 135.

Wolf-dog, Hungarian, anecdote of, 102, 103.

Wombat, 193.

Wood, Sandy, and his pets, 298, 299.

Wordsworth on cruelty to horses in Ireland, 275.

Zebra, Lattin's joke, 287.

Zoological Gardens, 249.

THE END.

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Transcriber's note: "The Aye-Aye, or Cheiromys of Madagascar (with a Plate)" Unfortunately no plate could be found for this particular section. Reference to it was removed from the Table of Contents.