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fixed and drooping regard; and again lift up his head, and roar for several minutes, as the sound of distant thunder.

7. They attempted, but in vain, to convey the carcase from him. He watched it continually, and would suffer nothing to - touch it. The keeper then endeavored to tempt him with a variety of food, but he turned from all that was offered, with loathing.

8. They then put several living dogs in his cage, which he tore in pieces, but left their members on the floor. His passions being thus inflamed, he would grapple at the bars of his cage, as if enraged at his restraint from tearing those around him to pieces.

9. Again, as if quite spent, he would stretch himself by the remains of his beloved associate, lay his paws upon him, and take him to his bosom; and then utter his grief in deep and melancholy roaring, for the loss of his little play-fellow, his late friend, the only companion of his den.

10. For five days, he thus languished, and gradually declined, without taking any sustenance or admitting any comfort, till, one morning, he was found dead, with his head reclined on the carcase of his little friend. They were both interred together.

LESSON XXXVI.

Scene from "the Poor Gentleman.”

SIR ROBERT, FREDERICK, AND HUMPHREY.

Enter Frederick, hastily.

Fred. O my dear uncle, good morning! your park is nothing but beauty.

Sir Rob. Who bid you caper over my beauty? I told you to stay in doors till I got up.

Fred. So you did, but I entirely forgot it.

Sir Rob. And pray what made you forget it?

Fred. The sun.

Sir Rob. The sun! he's mad! you mean the moon I believe.

Fred. O my dear uncle, you don't know the effect of a fine spring morning upon a young fellow just arrived from Russia. The day looked bright, trees budding, birds singing, the park was so gay, that I took a leap out of your old balcony, made your deer fly before me like the wind, and chased them all round the park, to get an appetite while you were snoring in bed, uncle. Park, a large piece of ground enclosed, in which deer and other beasts of chase are kept.

*

upon a

Sir Rob. Oh, oh! So the effect of English sunshine Russian is to make him jump out of a balcony and worry my deer.

Fred. I confess it had that influence upon me.

Sir Rob. You had better be influenced by a rich old uncle, unless you think the sun likely to leave you a fat legacy. Fred. I hate legacies.

Sir Rob. Sir, that's mighty singular.

tokens at least.

They are pretty solid

Fred. Very melancholy tokens, uncle; they are the posthumous despatches which affection sends to gratitude to inform us we have lost a gracious friend.

Sir Rob. How charmingly the dog argues.

Fred. But I own my spirits run away with me this morning. I will obey you better in future; for they tell me you are a very worthy, good sort of old gentleman.

Sir Rob. Now, who had the familiar impudence to tell you that?

Fred. Old rusty, there.

Sir Rob. Why, Humphrey, you didn't?

Humph. Yes, but I did, though.

Fred. Yes he did, and on that score I shall be anxious to show you obedience, for 'tis as meritorious to attempt sharing a good man's heart, as it is paltry to have designs upon a rich man's money. A noble nature aims its attentions full breast high, uncle; a mean mind levels its dirty assiduities at the pocket.

Sir Rob. (shaking him by the hand.) Jump out of every window I have in the house; hunt my deer into high fevers, my fine fellow. Ay, that's right, this is spunk and plain speaking. Give me a man who is always plumping his dissent to my doctrines smack in my teeth

Fred. I disagree with you there, uncle.
Humph. And so do I.

Fred. You, you forward puppy! If you
I'd knock you down.

were not so old

Sir Rob. I'll knock you down if you do. I wont have my servants thump'd into dumb flattery; I wont let you teach 'em to make silence a toad-eater.

Humph. Come, you are ruffled. Let us go to the business of the morning.

Sir Rob. I hate the business of the morning. Don't you see we are engaged in discussion. I tell you, I hate the business of the morning.

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Humph. No, you don't.

Sir Rob Don't I? Why not?
Humph. Because it's charity.

Sir Rob. Pshaw,* then. Well, we must not neglect the business, if there be any distress in the parish; read the list, Humphrey.

(Humphrey takes out a paper and reads.) "Jonathan Huggins of Muck Mead is put in prison."

Sir Rob. Why, it was only last week that Gripe, the attorney,† recovered two cottages for him by law, worth sixty pounds. Humph. And charged a hundred for his trouble; so seiz'd the cottages for part of his bill, and threw Jonathan into jail

for the remainder.

Sir Rob. A harpy! I must relieve the poor fellow's distress. Fred. And I must kick his attorney.

Humph. (reading.) "The curate's horse is dead."

Sir Rob. Pshaw-there's no distress in that.

Humph. Yes, there is, to a man that must go twenty miles every Sunday to preach, for thirty pounds a year.

Sir Rob. Why won't the vicars give him another nag? Humph. Because 'tis cheaper to get another curate ready mounted.

Sir Rob. Well, send him the black pad which I purchased last Tuesday, and tell him to work him as long as he lives.— What else have we upon the list?

Humph. Somewhat out of the common-there's one lieutenant Worthington, a disabled officer, and a widower, come to lodge at farmer Harrowby's in the village; he is, it seems, very poor, but more proud than poor, and more honest than proud. Sir Rob. And so he sends to me for assistance!

Humph. No, he'd sooner die than ask you or any man for a shilling! there's his daughter, and his dead wife's aunt, and an old corporal that has served in the wars with him—he keeps them all upon half pay.

Sir Rob. Starves them all, I'm afraid, Humphrey.
Fred. (going.) Good morning, uncle.'

Sir Rob. You rogue, where are you running now ?
Fred. To talk to lieutenant Worthington.

Sir Rob. And what may you be going to say to him?

*Pronounced shaw.

+ Pronounced at-tur'-ne.

Harpy, a fabulous winged monster, noted for its voraciousness and pol lution.

Curate, a clergyman employed in the place of a vicar
Pronounced vic'-ar, the priest of a parish.

Fred. I can't tell 'till I encounter him, and then, uncle, when I have an old gentleman by the hand who is disabled in ais country's service, and struggling to support his motherless child, a poor relation, and a faithful servant, in honorable indigence, impulse will supply me with words to express my

sentiments.

Sir Rob. Stop, you rogue, I must be before you in this business.

Fred. That depends upon who can run fastest; so start fair, uncle, and here goes-(runs out.)

Sir Rob. Stop, stop; why, Frederick-a jackanapes-to take my department out of my hands. I'll disinherit the dog for his assurance.

Humph. No, you won't.

Sir Rob: Won't I? Hang me if-but we'll argue that point as we go. So, come along, Humphrey.

LESSON XXXVII.

Exeunt.

Scene between Captain Tackle and Jack Bowlin.

Bowl. Good day to your honor.

Capt. Good day, honest Jack.

Bowl. To-day is my captain's birth-day.

Capt. I know it.

Bowl. I am heartily glad on the occasion.
Capt. I know that too.

Bowl. Yesterday your honor broke your sea-foam pipe. Capt. Well, sir booby, and why must I be put in mind of it? it was stupid enough to be sure, but hark ye, Jack, all men at times do stupid actions, but I never met with one who liked to be reminded of them.

Bowl. I meant no harm, your honor. It was only a kind of introduction to what I was going to say. I have been buying this pipe-head and ebony-tube, and if the thing is not too bad, and my captain will take such a present on his birth-day, for the sake of poor old Jack

Capt. Is that what you would be at-Come, let's see.

Bowl. To be sure, it is not sea-foam; but my captain must think, when he looks at it, that the love of old Jack was not mere foam neither.

Capt. Give it here, my honest fellow.
Bowl.

You will take it?

Capt. To be sure I will.

Bowl. And will smoke it?

Capt. That I will (feeling in his pocket.)

Bowl. And will not think of giving me any thing in return? Capt. (Withdrawing his hand from his pocket.) No, no-You are right.

Bowl. Huzza! now let mother Grimkin bake her almond cakes out of her daily pilferings and be hanged.

Capt. Fie, Jack! what's that you say!

Bowl. The truth. I have just come from the kitchen, where she is making a great palaver about "her cake" and "her cake," and yet this morning she must be put in mind that it was her master's birth-day. Hang me, I have thought of nothing else this month.

Capt. And because you have a better memory, you must blame the poor woman. Shame on you.

Bowl. Please your honor, she is an old

Capt. Avast!

Bowl. Yesterday she made your wine cordial of sour beer, so to-day she makes you an almond cake of

Capt. Hold your tongue, sir.

Bowl. A'nt you obliged to beg the necessaries of life as if she were a pope or admiral? and last year when you were bled, though she had laid up chest upon chest full of linen, and all your's if the truth was known, yet no bandage was found till I tore the spare canvass from my Sunday shirt to rig your honor's

arm.

Capt. You are a scandalous fellow, (throws the pipe back to him,) away with you and your pipe.

Bowl. (Looking attentively at his master and the pipe. I am a scandalous fellow?

Capt. Yes!

Bowl. Your honor will not have the pipe?

Capt. No; I will take nothing from him who would raise his own character at the expense of another old servant.

(Jack takes up the pipe and throws it out of the window.) What are you doing?

Bowl. Throwing the pipe out of the window.

Capt. Are you mad?

Bowl. Why, what should I do with it? You will not have it, and it is impossible for me to use it, for as often as I should puff away the smoke, I should think, "Old Jack Bowlin, what a pitiful scamp you must be, a man whom you have served honestly and truly these thirty years, and who must know you from stem to stern says you are a scandalous fellow," and the

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