Chapter IX: Part 9

John was thought to be very stupid. He was sent to a mill one day, and the miller said--"John, some people say you are a fool! Now, tell me, what you do know, and what you don't know."--"Well," replied John, "I know millers' hogs are fat!"--"Yes, that's well, John; now, what don't you know?"--"I don't know _whose corn_ fats 'em."[211]

PIGS AND SILVER SPOON.

The Earl of P---- kept a number of swine at his seat in Wiltshire, and crossing the yard one day, he was surprised to see the pigs gathered round one trough, and making a great noise. Curiosity prompted him to see what was the cause, and on looking into the trough he perceived a large silver spoon. A servant-maid came out, and began to abuse the pigs for crying so. "Well they may," said his lordship, "when they have got but one _silver spoon_ among them all."

* * * * *

We have heard of one nobleman in Strathearn, who, when a young man, used to be thus addressed by his mother--"William! how are the children _and your pigs_?"[212]

SYDNEY SMITH ON BEAUTIFUL PIGS.

DEFINITION OF BEAUTY BY A UTILITARIAN.

"Go to the Duke of Bedford's piggery at Woburn, and you will see a breed of pigs with legs so short, that their stomachs trail upon the ground; a breed of animals entombed in their own fat, overwhelmed with prosperity, success, and farina. No animal could possibly be so disgusting, if it were not useful; but a breeder who has accurately attended to the small quantity of food it requires to swell this pig out to such extraordinary dimensions,--the extraordinary genius it displays for obesity,--and the laudable propensity of the flesh to desert the cheap regions of the body, and to agglomerate on those parts which are worth ninepence a pound,--such an observer of its utility does not scruple to call these otherwise hideous quadrupeds a beautiful race of pigs!"[213]

JOSEPH STURGE, WHEN A BOY, AND THE PIGS.

When Joseph Sturge, that good Quaker, was in his sixth year, his biographer, Henry Richard,[214] records that he was on a visit to a friend of his mother's at Frenchay, near Bristol. Sauntering about one day, he came near the house of an eccentric man, a Quaker, who was much annoyed by the depredations of his neighbour's pigs. Half in jest, and half in earnest, he told the lad to drive the pigs into a pond close by. Joseph, nothing loath, set to work with a will, delighted with the fun. The woman, to whom the pigs belonged, came out presently, broom in hand, flourishing it over the young sinner's head. The tempter was standing by, and sought to cover his share of the transaction by shaking his head and saying--"Ah,

'Satan finds some mischief still
For idle hands to do.'

The child looked up at him indignantly, and said, 'Thee bee'st Satan then, for thee told'st me to do it.'"

FOOTNOTES:

[194] "Letters from Sarawak," p. 104. 1854.

[195] "Divides the hoof, and is cloven-footed, yet cheweth not the cud" (Lev. ii. 7).

[196] Boner's "Chamois Hunting in the Mountains of Bavaria," p. 97.

[197] "Travels" (Home and Colonial Library), p. 147.

[198] "Travels in Syria and the Holy Land," p. 9.

[199] Symbolae Physicae.

[200] _Potamochoerus penicellatus._ [Greek: Potamos], a river; [Greek: choiros], a pig; _penicellatus_, pencilled. It is said to be the _Sus porcus_ of Linnaeus.

[201] "A New and Accurate Description of the Coast of Guinea, written originally in Dutch." London, 1705, p. 247.

[202] See Dr Sutherland's interesting account in his "Journal of a Voyage in Baffin Bay and Barrow's Straits in the years 1850, 1851;" a truly excellent work on the Arctic regions, by one who is now Surveyor of Natal.

[203] See Biography in G. H. Wilson's _Eccentric Mirror_, i., No. 3, p. 30.

[204] "Common-Place Book," iv. p. 514.

[205] Mark Lemon, "Jest Book," p. 107.

[206] _Ibid._, p. 337.

[207] "Memoir of the Life of Elizabeth Fry," vol. ii. p. 30. 1847.

[208] "Life of Thomas Gainsborough, R.A.," by the late George William Fulcher, edited by his Son, p. 122. 1856.

[209] Mark Lemon, "Jest Book," p. 328.

[210] _Ibid._, p. 2.

[211] Mark Lemon, "Jest Book," p. 31. The latter of these jests is attributed by Dean Ramsay to a half-witted Ayrshire man, who said he "kenned a miller had aye a gey fat sow."--_Reminiscences_, p. 197.

[212] Mark Lemon, "Jest Book," p. 269. This worthy nobleman was and is much attached to his home-farm. He is well known in Perthshire.

[213] "Wit and Wisdom of Rev. Sydney Smith," third edition, p. 253. From a lecture at Royal Institution.

[214] "Memoirs of Joseph Sturge," by Henry Richard.

HORSE.

The noblest animal employed by man, and consequently the subject of many volumes of anecdote,--a study for the painter and sculptor, from the days of the Greek and Assyrian artists to the present day. Charles Darwin and Sir Francis Head have given graphic descriptions of the catching of the wild horse, which swarms on the Pampas of South America.

How pathetic to see the led horse following the bier of a soldier! It was, perhaps, the most affecting incident in the long array of the funeral of the great Duke.

In the Museum at Brussels, Dr Patrick Neill observed, in 1817, "the stuffed skin of the horse belonging to one of the Alberts, who governed the Low Countries in the time of the Spaniards. It was shot under him in the field, and the holes made in the thorax by the musket bullets are still very evident."[215]

Poor Copenhagen, the Duke's charger at Waterloo, was buried. Many would have liked his skin or skeleton. The Duke resisted all attempts to give his old friend up for such a purpose. We hope no resurrectionist succeeded in getting up his bones, years after his burial at Strathfieldsaye.

BELL-ROCK HORSE.

The Bell-Rock Lighthouse, built on a dangerous range of rocks twelve miles south by east from Arbroath, was begun by Robert Stevenson on the 17th August 1807, and finished in October 1810. Mr Jervise[216] records that "one horse, the property of James Craw, a labourer in Arbroath, is believed to have drawn the entire materials of the building. The animal latterly became a _pensioner_ of the Lighthouse Commissioners, and was sent by them to graze on the Island of Inchkeith, where it died of old age in 1813. Dr John Barclay, the celebrated anatomist, had its bones collected and arranged in his museum, which he bequeathed at his death to the Royal College of Surgeons, and in their museum at Edinburgh the skeleton of the _Bell-Rock horse_ may yet be seen."

BURKE AND THE HORSE.

An anecdote of the humanity of the great Edmund Burke in the year 1762 has been preserved.[217] "An Irishman, of the name of Johnson, was astonishing the town by his horsemanship. All London crowded to see his feats of agility and his highly-trained steeds. Dr Johnson and Boswell talked of this man's wonderful ability, and the Doctor thought that he fully deserved encouragement on philosophical grounds. He proved what human perseverance could do. One who saw him riding on three horses at once, or dancing upon a wire, might hope, that with the same application in the profession of his choice, he should attain the same success. Burke, always ready to encourage his countrymen, and curious in all the ramifications of ingenuity, went frequently to the circus. The favourite performance of the evening was that of a handsome black horse, which, at the sound of Johnson's whip, would leave the stable, stand with much docility at his side, then gallop about the ring, and on hearing the crack of the lash again return obediently to its master. On one unfortunate occasion, the signal was disregarded. The horse-rider flew into a rage, and by a blow between the ears, struck the noble animal to the earth. The spectators thought the horse was dying, but they had little time to reflect on the sight before they were surprised at seeing a gentleman jump into the ring, rush up to Johnson, and with his eyes flashing, and every muscle in the face quivering with emotion, shout out, 'You scoundrel! I have a mind to knock you down.' And Johnson would certainly have been laid sprawling in the sawdust beside his panting steed, had not the friends of the gentleman interposed, and prevented him inflicting such summary chastisement. This incident was long remembered. When the relater of it, many years afterwards, heard Burke declaiming, on the floor of the House of Commons, against injustice and oppression, his mind naturally reverted to the time when he saw the same hatred of all cruelty displayed by the same individual as he stood over the prostrate body of the poor black horse, prepared to punish the miscreant who had felled it to the ground."

DAVID GARRICK AND HIS HORSE.

In 1778 Sir Joshua Reynolds visited Dr Warton at Winchester College. Here he was particularly noticed by George III. and his queen, who were then making a tour through the summer encampments. The father of Lord Palmerston, and David Garrick, the great actor, with others, visited Warton at the same time.

Mr Northcote[218] relates that a whimsical accident occurred to Garrick at one of the reviews, which Sir Joshua afterwards recounted with great humour.

"At one of those field-days in the vicinity, Garrick found it necessary to dismount, when his horse escaped from his hold and ran off; throwing himself immediately into his professional attitude, he cried out, as if on Bosworth field, 'A horse! a horse! my kingdom for a horse!'"

This exclamation, and the accompanying attitude, excited great amazement amongst the surrounding spectators, who knew him not; but it could not escape his majesty's quick apprehension, for, it being within his hearing, he immediately said, "Those must be the tones of Garrick! see if he is not on the ground." The theatrical and dismounted monarch was immediately brought to his majesty, who not only condoled with him most good humouredly on his misfortune, but flatteringly added, that his delivery of Shakspeare could never pass undiscovered.

This anecdote of Garrick at Winchester is told in the Rev. John Wool's "Life of Warton." Mr Taylor says--"One can't help suspecting Roscius took care to make his speech when he knew the king was within earshot--a little bit of that 'artifice' of his which has left such an impression in the theatre, that the phrase, 'As deep as Garrick,' is still current stage slang."[219]

BERNARD GILPIN'S HORSES STOLEN AND RECOVERED.[220]

The biographer of the saintly Bernard Gilpin, the apostle of the northern counties of England in the days of Edward VI., and Queens Mary and Elizabeth, relates that, by the carelessness of his servant, his horses were one day stolen. The news was quickly propagated, and every one expressed the highest indignation. The thief was rejoicing over his prize, when, by the report of the country, he found whose horses he had taken. Terrified at what he had done, he instantly came trembling back, confessed the fact, returned the horses, and declared he believed the devil would have seized him directly had he carried them off, knowing them to have been Mr Gilpin's. The biographer gives an instance of his benevolent temper. "One day returning home, he saw in a field several people crowding together; and judging that something more than ordinary had happened, he rode up to them, and found that one of the horses in a team had suddenly dropped down, which they were endeavouring to raise; but in vain, for the horse was dead. The owner of it seeming much dejected with his misfortune, and declaring how grievous a loss it was to him, Mr Gilpin bade him not be disheartened; "I'll let you have, honest man, that horse of mine," and pointed to his servant's. "Ah! master," replied the countryman, "my pocket will not reach such a beast as that." "Come, come," says Mr Gilpin, "take him, take him; and when I demand my money, then thou shalt pay me."[221]

No wonder that the horses of the apostolic rector of Houghton-le-Spring were safe, even in those horse-stealing times, and in that Border county.

THE HERALD AND GEORGE III.'S HORSE.

One day, when Sir Isaac Heard was in company with George III., it was announced that his majesty's horse was ready for hunting. "Sir Isaac," said the king, "are you a judge of horses?"--"In my younger days, please your majesty, I was a great deal among them," was the reply.--"What do you think of this, then?" said the king, who was by this time preparing to mount his favourite; and, without waiting for an answer, added, "We call him _Perfection_."--"A most appropriate name," replied the courtly herald, bowing as his majesty reached the saddle, "for he _bears_ the best of characters."[222]

ROWLAND HILL AND HIS HORSE AT DUNBAR.

Many stories of the excellent but eccentric Rowland Hill are told, but often with considerable exaggeration. The following may be depended on for its accuracy, as it was told by Robert Haldane.[223] It occurred at Dunbar, in September 1797, during an evangelistic tour Hill and Haldane were making in Scotland. They were sleeping at Mr Cunningham's, when, in the morning, intending to proceed southward, on Mr Hill's carriage being brought to the door, his horse was found to be dead lame. A farrier was sent for, who, after careful examination, reported that the seat of the mischief was in the shoulder, that the disease was incurable, and that they might shoot the poor animal as soon as they pleased. To this proposal Mr Hill was by no means prepared to accede. Indeed, it seemed to Mr Haldane as precipitate as the conduct of an Irish sailor on board the _Monarch_, who, on seeing another knocked down senseless by a splinter, and supposing his companion to be dead, went up to Captain Duncan, on the quarter-deck, in the midst of the action with Languara, off St Vincent, and exclaimed, "Shall we jerk him overboard, sir?" On that occasion the sailor revived in a short time, and was even able to work at his gun. In the present instance the horse, too, recovered, and was able to carry his master on many a future errand of mercy. Meanwhile, however, the travellers availed themselves of Mr Cunningham's hospitality, and remained for two days more at his place, near Dunbar. In the evening Mr Hill conducted family worship, and after the supplications for the family, domestics, and friends, added a fervent prayer for the restoration of the valuable animal which had carried him so many thousands of miles, preaching the everlasting gospel to his fellow-sinners. Mr Cunningham, who was remarkable for the staid and orderly, if not stiff, demeanour, which characterised the anti-burghers, was not only surprised but grieved, and even scandalised, at what he deemed so great an impropriety. He remonstrated with his guest. But Mr Hill stoutly defended his conduct by an appeal to Scripture, and the superintending watchfulness of Him without whom a sparrow falls not to the ground. He persisted in his prayer during the two days he continued at Dunbar, and, although he left the horse, in a hopeless state, to follow in charge of his servant by easy stages, he continued his prayer, night and morning, till one day, at an inn in Yorkshire, while the two travellers were sitting at breakfast, they heard a horse and chaise trot briskly into the yard, and, looking out, saw that Mr Hill's servant had arrived, bringing up the horse perfectly restored. Mr Hill did not fail to return thanks, and begged his fellow-traveller to consider whether the minuteness of his prayers had deserved the censure which had been directed against them.

A SAYING OF ROWLAND HILL'S.

Rowland Hill rode a great deal, and exercise preserved him in vigorous health. On one occasion, when asked by a medical friend, who was commenting on his invariably good health, what physician and apothecary he employed, he replied, "My physician has always been a _horse_, and my apothecary an _ass_!"[224]

HOLCROFT ON THE HORSE.

Thomas Holcroft, the novelist and play-writer, when a lad, was a stable boy to a trainer of running horses. In his memoirs he has written a good deal about the habits of the race-horse. He says of them:--"I soon learned that the safehold for sitting steady was to keep the knee and the calf of the leg strongly pressed against the sides of the animal that endeavours to unhorse you; and as little accidents afford frequent occasions to remind the boys of this rule, it becomes so rooted in the memory of the intelligent, that their danger is comparatively trifling. Of the temperaments and habits of blood-horses there are great varieties, and those very strongly contrasted. The majority of them are playful, but their gambols are dangerous to the timid or unskilful. They are all easily and suddenly alarmed, when anything they do not understand forcibly catches their attention, and they are then to be feared by the bad horseman, and carefully guarded against by the good. Very serious accidents have happened to the best. But, besides their general disposition to playfulness, there is a great propensity in them to become what the jockeys call vicious. High bred, hot in blood, exercised, fed and dressed so as to bring that heat to perfection, their tender skins at all times subject to a sharp curry-comb, hard brushing, and when they take sweats, to scraping with wooden instruments, it cannot be but that they are frequently and exceedingly irritated. Intending to make themselves felt and feared, they will watch their opportunity to bite, stamp, or kick; I mean those among them that are vicious. Tom, the brother of Jack Clarke, after sweating a gray horse that belonged to Lord March, with whom he lived, while he was either scraping or dressing him, was seized by the animal by the shoulder, lifted from the ground, and carried two or three hundred yards before the horse loosened his hold. Old Forrester, a horse that belonged to Captain Vernon, all the while that I remained at Newmarket, was obliged to be kept apart, and being foundered, to live at grass, where he was confined to a close paddock. Except Tom Watson, he would suffer no lad to come near him; if in his paddock, he would run furiously at the first person that approached, and if in the stable, would kick and assault every one within his reach. Horses of this kind seem always to select their favourite boy. Tom Watson, indeed, had attained to man's estate, and in his brother's absence, which was rare, acted as superintendent. Horses, commonly speaking, are of a friendly and generous nature; but there are anecdotes of the malignant and savage ferocity of some, that are scarcely to be credited; at least many such are traditional at Newmarket.

Of their friendly disposition towards their keepers, there is a trait known to every boy that has the care of any one of them, which ought not to be omitted. The custom is to rise very early, even between two and three in the morning, when the days lengthen. In the course of the day, horses and boys have much to do. About half after eight, perhaps, in the evening, the horse has his last feed of oats, which he generally stands to enjoy in the centre of his smooth, carefully made bed of clean long straw, and by the side of him the weary boy will often lie down; it being held as a maxim, a rule without exception, that were he to lie even till morning, the horse would never lie down himself, but stand still, careful to do his keeper no harm.[225]

In one of Thomas Holcroft's novels, "Alwyn; or, The Gentleman Comedian," founded on his own adventures when a travelling actor, he gives the character of an enthusiast who had conceived the idea of establishing a humane asylum for animals, the consequences of which he describes. "I am pestered, plagued, teased, tormented to death. I believe all the cats in Christendom are assembled in Oxfordshire. I am obliged to hire a clerk to pay the people; and the village where I live is become a constant fair. A fellow has set up the sign of the Three Blind Kittens, and has the impudence to tell the neighbours, that if my whims and my money only hold out for one twelvemonth, he shall not care a fig for the king. I thought to prevent this inundation, by buying up all the old cats and secluding them in convents and monasteries of my own, but the value of the breeders is increased to such a degree, that I do not believe my whole fortune is capable of the purchase. Besides I am made an ass of. A rascal, who is a known sharper in these parts, hearing of the aversion I had to cruelty, bought an old one-eyed horse, that was going to the dogs, for five shillings; then taking a hammer in his hand, watched an opportunity of finding me alone, and addressed me in the following manner: 'Look you, master, I know that you don't love to see any dumb creature abused, and so, if you don't give me ten pounds, why, I shall scoop out this old rip's odd eye with the sharp end of this here hammer, now, before your face.' Ay, and the villain would have done it too, if I had not instantly complied; but what was worse, the abominable scoundrel had the audacity to tell me, when I wanted him to deliver the horse first, for fear he should extort a further sum from me, that he had more honour than to break his word. A whelp of a boy had yesterday caught a young hedgehog, and perceiving me, threw it into the water to make it extend its legs; then with the rough side of a knotty stick sawed upon them till the creature cried like a child; and when I ordered him to desist, told me he would not, till I had given him sixpence. There is something worse than all this. The avaricious rascals, when they can find nothing that they think will excite my pity, disable the first animal which is not dignified with the title of Christian, and then bring it to me as an object worthy of commiseration; so that, in fact, instead of protecting, I destroy. The women have entertained a notion that I hate two-legged animals; and one of them called after me the other day, to tell me I was an old rogue, and that I had better give my money to the poor, than keep a parcel of dogs and cats that eat up the village. I perceive it is in vain to attempt carrying on the scheme much longer, and then my poor invalids will be worse off than they were before."[226]

A JOKE OF LORD MANSFIELD'S ABOUT A HORSE.

Lord Campbell[227] tells an anecdote of George Wood, a celebrated special pleader at the time when Lord Mansfield was Chief-Justice. Though a subtle pleader, George was very ignorant of _horse-flesh_, and had been cruelly cheated in the purchase of a horse on which he had intended to ride the circuit. He brought an action on the warranty that the horse was "a good roadster, and free from vice." At the trial before Lord Mansfield, it appeared that when the plaintiff mounted at the stables in London, with the intention of proceeding to Barnet, nothing could induce the animal to move forward a single step. On hearing this evidence, the Chief-Justice with much gravity exclaimed, "Who would have supposed that Mr Wood's horse would have _demurred_ when he ought to have _gone to the country_." Any attempt, adds Lord Campbell, to explain this excellent joke to _lay gents_ would be vain, and to _lawyers_ would be superfluous.

GENERAL SIR JOHN MOORE AND HIS HORSE AT THE BATTLE OF CORUNNA.

Charles Napier served in Lord William Bentinck's brigade during the retreat of the truly great and ill-used Moore at the battle of Corunna; he was covered with wounds, and was carried off a prisoner. In his "Biography" General Sir William Napier[228] has published a most interesting description of the part his brother took in that battle, and written in his own words. I extract a few vivid lines in which Moore and his horse are brought before you. A heavy French column was descending rapidly on the British line at the part where Napier was. "Suddenly I heard the gallop of horses, and turning saw Moore. He came at speed, and pulled up so sharp and close he seemed to have alighted from the air; man and horse looking at the approaching foe with an intenseness that seemed to concentrate all feeling in their eyes. The sudden stop of the animal, a cream-coloured one, with black tail and mane, had cast the latter streaming forward, its ears were pushed out like horns, while its eyes flashed fire, and it snorted loudly with expanded nostrils, expressing terror, astonishment, and muscular exertion. My first thought was, it will be away like the wind; but then I looked at the rider, and the horse was forgotten. Thrown on its haunches the animal came, sliding and dashing the dirt up with its fore-feet, thus bending the general forward almost to its neck; but his head was thrown back, and his look more keenly piercing than I ever before saw it. He glanced to the right and left, and then fixed his eyes intently on the enemy's advancing column, at the same time grasping the reins with both his hands, and pressing the horse firmly with his knees; his body thus seemed to deal with the animal, while his mind was intent on the enemy, and his aspect was one of searching intenseness, beyond the power of words to describe; for a while he looked, and then galloped to the left, without uttering a word."

NEITHER HORSES NOR CHILDREN CAN EXPLAIN THEIR COMPLAINTS.

Dr Mounsey, the Chelsea doctor, an eccentric physician, who was a great friend of David Garrick, related to Taylor that he was once in company with another physician and an eminent farrier. The physician stated that among the difficulties of his profession, was that of discovering the maladies of children, because they could not explain the symptoms of their disorder. "Well," said the farrier, "your difficulties are not greater than mine, for my patients, the horses, are equally unable to explain their complaints."--"Ah!" rejoined the physician, "my brother doctor must conquer me, as he has brought his cavalry against my infantry!"[229]

HORSES WITH NAMES.

In this country most horses have a name, but in Germany this custom must be unusual. Perthes, when on his way from Hamburg to Frankfort, remarked at Boehmte--"It is a pleasing custom they have here of giving proper names to horses. The horse is a noble and intelligent animal, and quite as deserving of such a distinction as the dog; and when it has a name, it has made some advance towards personality."[230]

"OLD JACK" OF WATERLOO BRIDGE.

In building Waterloo Bridge, the finest of Rennie's bridges, the whole of the stone required was hewn in some fields on the Surrey side. Nearly the whole of this material was drawn by one horse called "Old Jack," a most sensible animal. Mr Smiles, in his "Life of John Rennie,"[231] thus speaks of this favourite old horse--"His driver was, generally speaking, a steady and trustworthy man; though rather too fond of his dram before breakfast. As the railway along which the stone was drawn passed in front of the public-house door, the horse and truck were usually pulled up, while Tom entered for his 'morning.' On one occasion the driver stayed so long that 'Old Jack,' becoming impatient, poked his head into the open door, and taking his master's coat collar between his teeth, though in a gentle sort of manner, pulled him out from the midst of his companions, and thus forced him to resume the day's work."

SYDNEY SMITH AND HIS HORSES.

Sydney Smith, when rector of Foston-le-Clay, in Yorkshire, a living which he got from Lord Chancellor Erskine in 1806, was in the habit of riding a good deal. His daughter says that, "either from the badness of his horses, or the badness of his riding, or perhaps from both (in spite of his various ingenious contrivances to keep himself in the saddle), he had several falls, and kept us in continual anxiety."[232] He writes in a letter--"I used to think a fall from a horse dangerous, but much experience has convinced me to the contrary. I have had six falls in two years, and just behaved like the three per cents. when they fall. I got up again, and am not a bit the worse for it any more than the stock in question." In speaking of this he says, "I left off riding for the good of my parish and the peace of my family; for, somehow or other, my horse and I had a habit of parting company. On one occasion I found myself suddenly prostrate in the streets of York, much to the delight of the Dissenters. Another time my horse Calamity flung me over his head into a neighbouring parish, as if I had been a shuttlecock, and I felt grateful it was not into a neighbouring planet; but as no harm came of it, I might have persevered perhaps, if, on a certain day, a Quaker tailor from a neighbouring village to which I had said I was going to ride, had not taken it into his head to call, soon after my departure, and request to see Mrs Sydney. She instantly, conceiving I was thrown, if not killed, rushed down to the man, exclaiming, 'Where is he?--where is your master?--is he hurt?' The astonished and quaking snip stood silent from surprise. Still more agitated by his silence, she exclaimed, 'Is he hurt? I insist upon knowing the worst!'--'Why, please, ma'am, it is only thy little bill, a very small account, I wanted thee to settle,' replied he, in much surprise.

"After this, you may suppose, I sold my horse; however, it is some comfort to know that my friend, Sir George, is one fall ahead of me, and is certainly a worse rider. It is a great proof, too, of the liberality of this county, where everybody can ride as soon as they are born, that they tolerate me at all.

"The horse 'Calamity,' whose name has been thus introduced, was the first-born of several young horses bred on the farm, who turned out very fine creatures, and gained him great glory, even amongst the knowing farmers of Yorkshire; but this first production was certainly not encouraging. To his dismay a huge, lank, large-boned foal appeared, of chestnut colour, and with four white legs. It grew apace, but its bones became more and more conspicuous; its appetite was unbounded--grass, hay, corn, beans, food moist and dry, were all supplied in vain, and vanished down his throat with incredible rapidity. He stood, a large living skeleton, with famine written in his face, and my father christened him 'Calamity.' As Calamity grew to maturity, he was found to be as sluggish in disposition as his master was impetuous; so my father was driven to invent his patent Tantalus, which consisted of a small sieve of corn, suspended on a semicircular bar of iron, from the ends of the shafts, just beyond the horse's nose. The corn, rattling as the vehicle proceeded, stimulated Calamity to unwonted exertions; and under the hope of overtaking this imaginary feed, he did more work than all the previous provender which had been poured down his throat had been able to obtain from him."

He was very fond of his young horses, and they all came running to meet him when he entered the field. He began their education from their birth; he taught them to wear a girth, a bridle, a saddle; to meet flags, music; to bear the firing of a pistol at their heads from their earliest years; and he maintained that no horses were so well broken as his! At p. 388 she records, "At ten we always went down-stairs to prayers in the library. Immediately after, if we were alone, appeared the 'farmer' at the door, lantern in hand. 'David, bring me my coat and stick,' and off he set with him, summer and winter, to visit his horses, and see that they were all well fed, and comfortable in their regions for the night. He kept up this custom all his life!"

* * * * *

Sydney Smith, when at Foston, used to exercise his skill in medicine on the poor, and often did much good; his daughter gives some instances of his practice as a farrier.

"On one occasion, wishing to administer a ball to Peter the Cruel,[233] the groom, by mistake, gave him two boxes of opium pills in his bran mash, which Peter composedly munched, boxes and all. My father, in dismay, when he heard what had happened, went to look, as he thought, for the last time on his beloved Peter; but soon found, to his great relief, that neither boxes nor pills had produced any visible effects on him. Another time he found all his pigs intoxicated; and, as he declared, 'grunting "God save the King" about the stye,' from having eaten some fermented grains which he had ordered for them. Once he administered castor-oil to the red cow, in quantities sufficient to have killed a regiment of Christians; but the red cow laughed alike at his skill and his oil, and went on her way rejoicing."[234]

* * * * *

Sydney Smith tells a story, or made one, of a clergyman who was rather absent. "I heard of a clergyman who went jogging along the road till he came to a turnpike. 'What is to pay?'--'Pay, sir, for what?' asked the turnpike man.--'Why, for my horse, to be sure.'--'Your horse, sir? what horse? here is no horse, sir.'--'No horse? God bless me!' said he, suddenly, looking down between his legs, 'I thought I was on horseback.'"[235]

JUDGE STORY AND THE NAMES HE GAVE HIS HORSES.

The son and biographer of the eminent American judge, Joseph Story, relates of him[236]--"To dumb creatures he was kind and considerate, and indignant at any ill usage of them. His sportive nature showed itself in the nicknames which, in parody of the American fondness of titles, he gave to his horses and dogs, as, 'The Right Honourable Mr Mouse,' or 'Colonel Roy.'"

WORDSWORTH ON CRUELTY TO HORSES IN IRELAND.

The Rev. Caesar Otway,[237] in a lecture full of interesting anecdotes, records:--"I remember an observation made to me by one of the most gifted of the human race--one of the stars of this generation--the poet of nature and of feeling--the good and the great Mr Wordsworth. Having the honour of a conversation with him, after he had made a tour through Ireland, I, in the course of it, asked what was the thing that most struck his observation here, as making us differ from the English; and he, without hesitation, said it was the ill treatment of our horses; that his soul was often, too often, sick within him at the way in which he saw these creatures of God abused."

USE OF TAIL.--SHORT-TAILED AND LONG-TAILED HORSES.

In an Irish paper was an advertisement for horses to stand at livery on the following terms:--"Long-tailed horses at 3s. 6d. per week; short-tailed horses at 3s. per week." On inquiry into the cause of the difference, it was answered, that the horses with long tails could brush the flies off their backs while eating, whereas the short-tailed horses were obliged to take their heads _from the manger_, and so ate less.[238]

FOOTNOTES:

[215] "Journal of Horticultural Tour," p. 306.

[216] "Memorials of Angus and the Mearns," by Andrew Jervise (1861), p. 175.

[217] "History of the Life and Times of Edmund Burke," by Thomas Macknight, vol. i. p. 160.

[218] "Life of Sir Joshua Reynolds," &c., by James Northcote, Esq., R.A. (2d edition), vol. ii. p. 80.

[219] "Life and Times of Sir Joshua Reynolds," by C. R. Leslie and Tom Taylor, M.A., vol. ii. p. 219.

[220] "Lives of Hugh Latimer, Bishop of Worcester, and of Bernard Gilpin," by William Gilpin, M.A. (3d edition), 1780, p. 275.

[221] _Loc. cit._, p. 284.

[222] Mark Lemon, "Jest Book," p. 39.

[223] "The Lives of Robert Haldane of Airthrey, and of his Brother, James Alexander Haldane," by Alex. Haldane, Esq., of the Inner Temple (1852), p. 223.

[224] Mark Lemon, "Jest Book," p. 318.

[225] "Memoirs of Thomas Holcroft" (ed. 1852), pp. 40, 41.

[226] "Memoirs of the late Thomas Holcroft," written by himself (ed. London, 1852), p. 112.

[227] "Lives of the Chief-Justices of England" (Lord Ellenborough), vol. iii. p. 100.

[228] Vol i. pp. 94-115.

[229] "Physic and Physicians: a Medical Sketch-Book," vol. i. p. 59.

[230] "Memoirs of Frederick Perthes," vol. i. p. 309.

[231] "Lives of the Engineers," vol. ii. p. 185.

[232] "Memoir of the Rev. Sydney Smith," by his daughter, Lady Holland, vol. i. pp. 172-174.

[233] A horse which he called so.

[234] "Memoir of the Rev. Sydney Smith," by his daughter, Lady Holland, vol. i. p. 117.

[235] Mrs Marcet, in Lady Holland's Memoirs of her Father, the Rev. Sydney Smith, vol. i. p. 364.

[236] "Life and Letters of Joseph Story, Associate Justice of the Supreme Court of the United States, and Dane Professor of Law at Harvard University," edited by his son, Wm. W. Story, vol. ii. p. 611.

[237] "The Intellectuality of Domestic Animals: a Lecture Delivered before the Royal Zoological Society of Ireland," p. 25. Dublin, 1847.

[238] Mark Lemon, "Jest Book," p. 263.

ASS AND ZEBRA.

It is strange that one of the most sagacious of animals should have supplied us with a by-word for "a fool." Coleridge was conscious of this when, in writing his address to a young ass's foal,[239] he exclaimed--

"I hail thee, brother, spite of the fool's scorn."

How well has he expressed his love for "the languid patience" of its face.

In warmer climes the ass attains a size and condition not seen here, though when cared for in this rougher climate, the donkey assumes somewhat of the size and elegance he has in the East. But who can bear his voice? Surely Coleridge was very fanciful when, in any condition of asshood, he could write--

"Yea, and more musically sweet to me
Thy dissonant, harsh bray of joy would be,
Than warbled melodies that soothe to rest
The aching of pale Fashion's vacant breast."

The wild ass, as it roams over the plains of Asia, or is seen in the Zoological gardens along with the gracefully-shaped and prettily-striped zebra, must be admired by every one.

COLLINS AND THE OLD DONKEY OF ODELL, COWPER'S MESSENGER AT OLNEY.

In July 1823, William Collins, R.A., visited Turvey, in Bedfordshire. His son remarks--"Besides the attractions presented to the pencil by the natural beauties of this neighbourhood, its vicinity to Olney, the favourite residence of the poet Cowper, gave it, to all lovers of poetry, a local and peculiar charm. Conspicuous among its inhabitants at the time when my father visited it was 'old Odell,' frequently mentioned by Cowper as the favourite messenger who carried his letters and parcels. The extreme picturesqueness and genuine rustic dignity of the old man's appearance made him an admirable subject for pictorial study. Portraits of him, in water-colours and oils, were accordingly made by my father, who introduced him into three of his pictures. The donkey on which he had for years ridden to and fro with letters, was as carefully depicted by the painter as his rider. On visiting 'old Odell' a year or two afterwards, Mr Collins observed a strange-looking object hanging against his kitchen wall, and inquired what it was. 'Oh, sir,' replied the old man, sorrowfully, 'that is the skin of my poor donkey. He died of old age, and I did not like to part with him altogether, so I had his skin dried, and hung up there.' Tears came into his eyes as he spoke of the old companion of all his village pilgrimages. The incident might have formed a continuation of Sterne's exquisite episode in the 'Sentimental Journey.'"[240]

In his picture of "The Cherry-Seller," painted for Mr Higgins of Turvey House, old Odell and his donkey are chief figures.

GAINSBOROUGH KEPT AN ASS.

The Rev. William Gilpin, in his "Forest Scenery," refers to the picturesque beauty of the ass in a landscape Berghem often introduced it; "and a late excellent landscape-painter (Mr Gainsborough), I have heard, generally kept this animal by him, that he might have it always at hand to introduce in various attitudes into his pictures. I have heard also that a plaster cast of an ass, modelled by him, is sold in the shops in London."[241]

IRISHMAN ON THE RAMSGATE DONKEYS.

In former times, when excise officers were not so sharp, there was a good deal of smuggling carried on at Ramsgate. Sir Thomas Dick Lauder[242] tells an anecdote of an Irishman there, who being asked to name the hardest wrought creature in existence, replied, "Och! a Ramsgate donkey, to be sure; for, faith, afthur carrying angels all day, be the powers he is forced to carry speerits all night."

ASS'S FOAL.

Douglas Jerrold and a company of literary friends were out in the country. In the course of their walk they stopped to notice the gambols of an ass's foal. A very sentimental poet present vowed that he should like to send the little thing as a present to his mother. "Do," replied Jerrold, "and tie a piece of paper round its neck, bearing this motto, 'When this you see, remember me.'"[243]

ASS.

A judge, joking a young barrister, said--"If you and I were turned into a horse and an ass, which would you prefer to be?"--"The ass, to be sure," replied the barrister. "I've heard of an ass being made a judge, but a horse never."[244]

Ammonianus, the grammarian, had an ass which, as it is said, when he attended the lectures upon poetry, often neglected his food when laid before him, though at the same time he was hungry, so much was the ass taken with the love of poetry.[245]

WARREN HASTINGS AND THE REFRACTORY DONKEY.

The fondness of the first Governor-General of India for horse exercise, and indeed for the horse itself, was quite oriental, as his biographer relates.[246] He was a fine rider, and piqued himself on his abilities in this way.

"Nothing pleased him," continues Mr Gleig, "more than to undertake some animal which nobody else could control, and to reduce it, as he invariably did, to a state of perfect docility. The following anecdote, which I have from my friend Mr Impey, himself an actor in the little drama, may suffice to show the extent to which this passion was carried. It happened once upon a time, when Mr Impey was, with some other boys, on a visit at Daylesford, that Mr Hastings, returning from a ride, saw his young friends striving in vain to manage an ass which they had found grazing in the paddock, and which one after another they chose to mount. The ass, it appears, had no objection to receive the candidates for equestrian renown successively on his back, but budge a foot he would not; and there being neither saddle nor bridle, wherewith to restrain his natural movements, he never failed, so soon as a difference of opinion arose, to get the better of his rider. Each in his turn, the boys were repeatedly thrown, till at last Mr Hastings, who watched the proceedings with great interest, approached.

"Why, boys," said he, "how is it that none of you can ride?"

"Not ride!" cried the little aspirants; "we could ride well enough, if we had a saddle and a bridle; but he's such an obstinate brute, that we don't think even you, sir, could sit him bare-backed."

"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.