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ATURE'S sternest painter, yet the best,” has left us

this graphic picture :-
“ There watch'd a cur before the Miser's gate-

A very cur, whom all men seem'd to hate;
Gaunt, savage, shaggy, with an eye that shone
Like a live coal, and he possess'd but one;
His bark was wild and cager, and became
That meagre body and that eye of flame;
His master prized him much, and Fang his name.
His master fed him largely; but not that,
Nor aught of kindness, made the snarler fat.
Flesh he devour'd, but not a bit would stay ;
He bark'd, and snarld, and growl'd it all away.
His ribs were seen extended like a rack,
And coarse red hair hung roughly o'er his back.
Lamed in one leg, and bruised in wars of yore,
Now his sore body made his temper sore.
Such was the friend of him who could not find
Nor make him one 'mong creatures of his kind.
Brave deeds of Fang his master often told,
The son of Fury, famed in deeds of old ;
From Snatch and Rabid sprung; and noted they
In earlier times—each dog will have his day.

The notes of Fang were to his master known,
And dear, they bore some likeness to his own;
For both convey'd to the experienced ear,
I snarl and bite because I hate and fear.'

None passed ungreeted by the master's door, -
Fang raild at all, but chiefly at the poor ;
And when the nights were stormy, cold, and dark,
The act of Fang was a perpetual bark ;
But though the master loved the growl of Fang
There were who vow'd the ugly cur to hang ;
Whose angry master, watchful for his friend,
As strongly vowd his servant to defend.

In one dark night, and such as Fang before
Was ever known its tempests to outroar,
To his protector's wonder now express'd
No angry notes—his anger was at rest.
The wond’ring master sought the silent yard,
Left Phæbe sleeping and his door unbarrd;
Nor more return'd to that forsaken bed.---
But lo! the morning came and he was dead.
Fang and his master, side by side, were laid
In grim repose-their debt of nature paid !
The master's hand upon the cur's cold chest
Was now reclined, and had before been press’d,
As if he search'd how deep and wide the wound
That laid such spirit in a sleep so sound ;
And when he found it was the sleep of death
A sympathising sorrow stopp'd his breath.
Close to his trusty servant he was found,
As cold his body, and his sleep as sound."

The Dealer and Clerk.

It has been urged by those who, having little compassion of their own, endeavour to depreciate others to their own level, that dogs are inimical to beggars and the poor.

Crabbe has well vindicated them from the accusation, in the lines

“ The dogs, who learn of man to scorn the poor,
Bark'd him away from every decent door.”

The Borough. Letter xiii.

These, so frequently quoted lines, are likewise attributed to him :

“ With eye uprais'd, his master's looks to scan,

The joy, the solace, and the aid of man;
The rich man's guardian, and the poor man's friend,
The only being faithful to the end."

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Another great author has delineated the antipodes of Fang in outward form and fierceness of nature; but a creature who possessed most likely an equally true heart.

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Instructions to a Painter.

· Happiest of the Spaniel race,
Painter, with thy colours grace ;
Draw his forehead large and high,
Draw his blue and humid eye;
Draw his neck so smooth and round,
Little neck with ribands bound;
And the musely swelling breast
Where the Loves and Graces rest;
And the spreading even back,
Soft, and sleek, and glossy black ;
And the tail that gently twines,
Like the tendrils of the vines ;
And the silky twisted hair,
Shadowing thick the velvet ear ;
Velvet ears, which, hanging low,
O'er the veiny temples flow.
With a proper light and shade,
Let the winding hoop be laid;
And within that arching bower
(Secret circle, mystic power,)

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In a downy slumber place
Happiest of the spaniel race ;
While the soft, perspiring dame,
Glowing with the softest flame,
On the ravish'd favourite pours
Balmy dews, ambrosial showers!
With thy utmost skill express
Nature in ner richest dress;
Limpid rivers smoothly flowing,
Orchards by those rivers blowing;
Curling woodbine, myrtle shade,
And the gay enamell’d mead;
Where the linnets sit and sing,
Little sportlings of the spring;
Where the breathing field and grove
Soothe the heart, and kindle love:
Here for me, and for the muse,
Colours of resemblance choose ;
Make of lineaments divine,
Daply female spaniels shine,
Pretty fondlings of the fair,
Gentle damsels, gentle care;
But to one alone impart
All the flattery of thy art.
Crowd each feature, crowd each grace,
Which complete the desperate face;
Let the spotted wanton dame
Feel a new resistless flame;
Let the happiest of his race
Win the fair to his embrace.

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These lines were supposed to be composed in ridicule of Philips' poem on Miss Carteret, and written it has been said “ to affront the lady of Archbishop Boulter.”

Swift wrote the following inscription for another lady's pet:


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We hope the appeal never met the eye of the dog-thief, as so far from reaching his heart it would only have stimulated his avarice and raised his demands. Legislation is yet required on this matter, and increased severity of punishment for the professional scoundrels who make money by stealing and exporting animals which have not merely a pecuniary value, but as companions and friends are bound up with the feelings of their owners, and in not a few instances are beyond price. But the instincts of trade govern unduly our ļawgivers and law-administrators. An inhuman being may, and often does, behave with worse than what is called brutal ferocity, to the sex and creatures he should protect and cherish: he spurns his wife; savagely bruises his child; flays animals alive-yes, alive!—and bis punishment is a very trifling one. Let him, however, steal 14 lbs. of meat from a shop and he receives seven years of penal servitude !

Philips. By the pen of Mrs. Katherine Philips we have a grand representation of the most magnificent of all varieties of the most noble of the whole animal creation. Greater interest attaches to it from its being a portrait drawn by a personal

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