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of Turkey and it dependencies as par-
ticularly useful in clearing the streets of
the garbage and carrion, which would
otherwise become the cause of pestilence
and death. It is to this circumstance
that the powerful but somewhat revolting
description of Lord Byron refers, in the
poem of the siege of Corinth :

I saw lean dogs beneath the wall,
Howl o'er the dead their carnival,
Gorging and growling o'er carcase and limb-
They were too busy to bark at him.
From a Tartar's skull they had stript the
flesh,

As you peel a fig when the fruit is fresh.

The Tartar's skull in the wild-dog's maw,
And the hair around his tangled jaw."

"From the earliest times the dogs of the east appear to have been without masters. The following passage in the fifty-ninth Psalm evidently refers to this custom: At evening let them return, and let them make a noise like a dog, and go round about the city. Let them wander up and down for meat, and grudge if they be not satisfied; or, according to another interpretation, "If they be not satisfied, there they will stay all night." Harmer, a commentator on the Bible, explains this passage, by stating the fact, that dogs in the east do not belong to any particular persons, as our dogs do, nor to be fed distinctly by such as might claim some interest in them, but get their living how they can.

"The circumstances attending the introduction of dogs into the South American continent and islands, and their subsequent wild state, are thus described in "The History of the Buccaneers."

""But here the curious reader may perhaps inquire how so many wild dogs came here. The occasion was, the Spaniards having possessed these isles, found them peopled with Indians, a barbarous people, sensual and brutish, hating all labour, and given only to killing, and making war against their neighbours, not out of ambition, but only because they agreed not with themselves in some common terms of language, and perceiving the dominion of the Spaniards laid great restrictions upon their lazy and brutish customs, they conceived an irreconcileable hatred against them, but especially because they saw them take possession of their kingdoms and dominions; hereupon they made against them all the resistance they could, opposing every where their designs to the utmost, and the Spaniards finding themselves cruelly hated by the Indians, and no where secure from their treacheries, resolved to extirpate and ruin them, since they could neither tame them by civility, nor con

quer them with the sword. But the Indians, it being their custom to make their woods their chief places of defence, at present made these their refuge whenever they fled from the Spaniards; hereupon those first conquerors of the New World made use of dogs, to range and search the intricatest thickets of woods and forests, for those their implacable and unconquerable enemies; thus they forced them to leave their old refuge, and submit to the sword, seeing no milder usage would do it; hereupon they killed some of them, and quartering their bodies, placed them in the highways, that others might take warning from such a punishment; but this severity proved of ill consequence, for instead of frightening them and reducing them to civility, they conceived such horror of the Spaniards, that they resolved to detest and fly their sight for ever; hence, the greatest part died in caves and subterraneous places of woods and mountains, in which places I myself have often seen great number of human bones. The Spaniards finding no more Indians to appear about the woods, turned away a great number of dogs they had in their houses, and they finding no masters to keep them, betook themselves to the woods and fields to hunt for food, to preserve their lives; thus, by degrees, they became unacquainted with houses, and grew wild. This is the truest account I can give of the multitudes of wild dogs in these parts.'

"This dreadful narrative is abundantly confirmed even by the Spanish historians.

"Columbus was in many respects a good and great man, and yet, when he found upon his return from Spain to Hispaniola, that the unfortunate people were in revolt against the oppressions of his soldiers, he was determined to put them to death, in the most cruel manner, for that resistance to tyranny which was their natural right and duty. He went forth against the wretched people with his foot soldiers and cavalry. The historian Herrera, adds, 'part of the force employed upon this occasion, consisted of twenty bloodhounds, which made great havoc amongst the naked Indians.' Only one of the writers of these times speaks of such cruelties as they deserve, and he was an extraordinary enthusiast, who spent his whole life in the endeavour to mitigate the fury of the conquerors. The name of this benevolent man was Bartholomew Las Casas. Relating the events which took place in the island of Cuba, he says, 'In three or four months I saw more than seven thousand children die of hunger, whose fathers and mothers

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had been dragged away to work in the mines. I was witness of other cruelties not less horrible. It was resolved to march against the Indians who had fled to the mountains. They were chased like wild beasts, with the assistance of bloodhounds who had been trained to the thirst for human-blood. Other means were employed for their destruction, so that before I had left the island, a little time after, it had become almost entirely a desert, and a desert it has partly remained to this day. The coast, which was most populous at the time when Columbus first touched there, is that which extends westward of the city of Trinidad, along the gulf of Xagua."

"The whole race of Indians has long since passed away, pining and perishing beneath the domination of the strangers whom they welcomed so joyfully to their shores." "We shudder, and yet this is only a page out of the great book of human history, which records but little else than evils committed upon mankind, under the hateful name of conquest and glory.

"We could almost lose our love of dogs in thus learning how they have been trained for the most abominable purposes, did not our indignation more properly attach to those who so trained them

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It is delightful to turn from the bloodhounds of the conquerors of America to the Alpine spaniels of the monks of St. Bernard. These wonderful dogs have been usually called mastiffs, probably on account of their great strength, but they strictly belong to the sub-division of spaniels, amongst which are found the shepherd's dog, the Equimaux dog, and the other varieties most distinguished for intelligence and fidelity.

"The convent of the Great St. Bernard is situated near the top of the mountain known by that name, near one of the most dangerous passes of the Alps, between Switzerland and Savoy. In these regions, the traveller is often overtaken by the most severe weather, even after days of cloudless beauty, when the glaciers glitter in the sunshine, and the pink and the flowers of the rhododendron appear as if they were never to be sullied by the tempest. But a storm suddenly comes on, the roads are rendered impassable by drifts of snow; the avalanches, which are huge loosened masses of snow or ice, are swept into the val lies, carrying trees and crags of rocks before them. The hospitable monks, though their revenues is scanty, open their doors to every stranger that presents himself. To be cold, to be weary, to be

benighted, constitute the title to their comfortable shelter, their cheering meal, and their agreeable converse. But their attention to the distressed does not end here. They devote themselves to the dangerous task of searching for those unhappy persons who may have been overtaken by the sudden storm, and would perish but for their charitable succour. Most remarkably are they assisted in these truly Christian offices.

"They have a breed of noble dogs in their establishment, whose extraordinary sagacity often enables them to rescue the traveller from destruction. Benumbed with cold, weary in the search for a lost track, his senses yielding to the stupifying influence of frost, which betrays the exhausted sufferer into a deep sleep, the unhappy man sinks upon the ground, and the snow-drift covers him from human sight. It is then that the keen scent, and the exquisite docility of these admirable dogs are called into action. Though the perishing man lie ten or even twenty feet beneath the snow, the delicacy of smell with which they can trace him offers a chance of escape. They scratch away the snow with their feet, they set up a continued and hoarse sound, which brings the monks and labourers of the convent to their assistance. To provide for the chance that the dogs, without human help, may succeed in discovering the unfortunate traveller, one of them has a flask of spirits round his neck, to which the fainting man may apply for support, and another has a cloak to cover him. These wonderful exertions are often successful, and even where they fail of restoring him who has perished, the dogs discover the body, so that it may be secured for the recognition of friends, and such is the effect of the tenperature, that the dead features preserve their firmness for two years. One of these noble creatures was decorated with a medal in commemoration of his having saved the lives of twenty-two persons; who, but for his sagacity must have perished. Many travellers who have crossed the passage of St. Bernard have seen this dog, and have heard, around the blazing fire of the monks, the story of his extraordinary career. He died about the year 1816, in an attempt to convey a poor traveller to his anxious family. The Piedmontese courier arrived at St. Bernard in a very stormy season, labouring to make his way to the little village of St. Pierre, in the valley beneath the mountain, where his wife and children dwelt. It was in vain that the monks attempted to check his resolution to reach his family. They at last gave him two guides, each of whom was accompanied by a dog, of which, one was the remarkable creature whose services had been so valuable to mankind. Descending from the convent, they were in an instant overwhelmed by two avalanches, and the same common destruction awaited the family of the poor courier, who were toiling up the mountain in the hope to obtain some news of their expected friend. They all perished.”

Having taken up a large portion of our space by the lengthiness of our extracts, we close our notice with the two following anecdotes, which exhibits the affection, fidelity, and sagacity, that characterises the canine species.

"The faculties of quadrupeds, like those of men, are of course mixed in their operation. The dog, who watches by his master's grave, and is not tempted away by the caresses of the living, employs both his memory and his imagination in this act of affection. In the year 1827, there was a dog constantly to be seen in St. Eride's Church-yard, Fleet-street, which for two years had refused to leave the place where his master was buried. He did not appear miserable, he evidently recollected their old companionship, and he imagined that their friendship would

be again renewed. The inhabitants of the houses round the church daily fed the poor creature, and the sexton built him a little kennel. But he would never quit the spot, and there he died."

The communication of ideas between dogs. -" A surgeon of Leeds, walking in the suburbs of that town, found a little spaniel who had been lamed. He carried the poor animal home, bandaged up his leg, and after two or three days turned him out. The dog returned to the surgeon's house every morning, till his leg was perfectly well. At the end of several months, the spaniel again presented himself, in company with another dog, who had also been lamed; and he intimated as well as piteous and intelligent looks could intimate, that he desired the same kind assistance to be rendered for his friend, as had been bestowed upon himself. A similar circumstance is stated to have occurred to Morant, a celebrated French surgeon.”

If press of temporary matter does not prevent us, we shall return to this entertaining volume again in our next, in the meantime, we earnestly recommend the Library of Entertaining Knowledge to our readers, as possessing great attraction.

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No. 2.-Side view of the Insect as found in the cavity of the log of wood, shewn in section.

anxious to be informed, and lead to open a field hitherto unexplored, respecting the why and how and wherefore-toads and serpents have been found in the bodies of trees?

Honour, Fame, Age, the links in chains of
friends;
Be Heaven his rest, and Happiness his end !
S.A.N.D.

THE VICTIM OF LOVE.

(For the Olio.)

to flow;

I knew her ere sorrow had shadow'd her brow,
Or the tears from her soul-fount had ventur'd
When her grief, like a spring-cloud that foils
the sun's ray,
Scarce dimm'd delight's brilliance, and faded

away.

This maggot was discovered very recently by a person, in the act of sawing a thick piece of Spanish cedar, and who very properly preserved it. The life of the released captive, however, was shortened by the discovery, as it lived only an hour after exposure to the open element. The place it inhabited was but little larger than to admit of the maggot turning and revolving in the cavity at its own pleasure. The wood which encompassed it She was gay as the morning, and blithe as the was perfect, and indicated no appearance And her hopes round affection's young sapling whatever of decay, or admission of air beyond the porous nature of cedar. The Ah! tree was of large dimension, and the prisoner must have probably been incased many years; of this, unless to an expe- I knew her, when beauty beam'd young from

rienced naturalist, conjecture can only be advanced. The length, when living, was about two inches; it was round and full of a juicy matter, light and rather beautiful in colour, but not distinguished like many of the caterpillar families in this country. The jaws, rather shaped like the claws of a crab's feet, are hard and black, and made for the purpose of working incisions on substantial materials.

Should any other correspondent feel interested in the research, and be acquainted with the movements of those insects which inhabit and resort to the Spanish cedar, such knowledge would be received with interest, as containing an instructive lesson of the mysterious works of nature. I am, Sir,

Your obliged reader,
VIVIPAROUS.

THE HOUR GLASS.
(For the Olio.)

ARCHDEACON NARES.

O qui res hominumque Deumque

Eternis regis imperiis, et fulmine terris.

Spring;

would eling.

little she thought, in those days of delight, Of the woes that would follow their lustre so bright!

her eye,

And the warmth of her heart was just trac'd
in her sigh;
When to love all her thoughts, all her hopes
and she dreamt not how rudely its charms

had been given,

would be riven.

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ÆN. 1.

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A SCHOLAR with the sheaves of knowledge

ripe

And rich to students. A divine that lived
Exemplar of his practice. An acute

Critic and writer. A philologist,

That by research smoothed down the rugged REMARKABLE STORY OF THE

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Charles, he being told that it was decent to withdraw, laid his watch on the table, begging one of the ladies then present, in a very grave manner, to take notice of the exact minute of the child's birth; which she observed, and acquainted him with. About a week after, when his lady was pretty well recovered, Dryden took occasion to tell her, that he had been calculating the child's nativity; and observed with grief, that he was born in an evil hour, for Jupiter, Venus, and the Sun, were all under the earth, and the lord of his ascendant afflicted with an hateful square of Mars and Saturn. If he lives to the eighth year, (continued he,) he will go near to die a violent death on his very birth-day; but if he then should escape, of which I see but little hopes, he will in his twenty-third year be under the same evil direction; and, if he should also then escape, the thirty or thirtyfourth year is, I fear-.

Here he was interrupted by the immoderate grief of his lady, who could no longer hear so much calamity prophecied to befal her child. The time at last came, and August was the inauspicious month in which the young Dryden was to enter into the eighth year of his age. Mr. Dryden being then at leisure to leave the town, he was invited to the country-seat of the Earl of Berkshire, his brother-law, to spend the long vacation with him at Charlton, Wilts; his lady going at the same time on a visit, to pass the remain ing part of the summer at her uncle Mordaunt's. When they came to divide the children, his lady would have had him take his son John, and let her have Charles, but Dryden was too absolute, and they parted in anger; he took Charles with him, and she was obliged to be content with John.

When the fatal day arrived, the anxiety of the lady's spirits caused such an effervescence of blood, and threw her into so violent a fever, that her life was despaired of, till a letter came from Mr. Dryden, reproving her for her womanish credulity, and assuring her that her child was well; which revived her spirits; and in six weeks after she received an eclaircissement of the whole affair. Dryden, either through fear of being reckoned superstitious, or thinking it a science beneath his study, was extremely cautious of letting any one know that he was a dealer in astrology; he therefore could not excuse his absence, on his son's birth-day, from a hunting match which Lord Berkshire had made, to which all the neighbouring gentry were invited. When he went out, he took care to set him a double exercise in Latin, which he taught his children

himself, with a strict charge not to stir out of the room till his return; well knowing that the task which he had set him would take him longer time than he could be absent from him.

Charles was performing his exercise in obedience to his father's command, when, as ill-fate would have it, the stag made towards the house, and the noise alarming the servants, they hastened out to see the sport: one of them, taking young Dryden by the hand, let him go along with him, when, just as they came to the gate, the stag being at bay with the dogs, made a bold push, and leaped over the court wall, which, being low and very old, the dogs followed, threw down a part thereof, and poor Charles was buried in the ruins. He was presently got out, but much bruised, so that he languished for six weeks in a very dangerous way; which accomplished the former part of his father's prophecy.

In his twenty-third year, being at Rome, he fell from the top of an old tower belonging to the Vatican, occasioned by a swimming in the head, with which he was seized by the heat of the weather. He recovered this also; but ever after remained in a sickly state, till the thirtythird year of his age, when, returning to England, he was drowned at Windsor, being taken with the cramp as he was bathing in the Thames with another gentleman, to whom he called for assistance, but too late.

Thus his father's prophetical calculation proved but too true.

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