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and bite at him ; and again the noble animal, wiin an air of fond com'plaisance, would hold down his head, while the little creature licked his formidable chaps.El Their history, as the keeper related it, was as follows:
3. It was customary for all who were unable or unwilling to pay their sixpence, to bring a dog or cat as an oblation to the beast in lieu 6 of money to the keeper. Among others, a fellow had caught up in the streets this pretty black spaniel, who was accordingly thrown into the cage of the great lion. Immediately the little animal trembled, and shivered, and crouched, and threw itself on its back, and put forth its tongue, and held up its paws in sup'plicatory attitudes, 40 as an acknowledgment of superior power, and praying for mercy.
4. In the mean time, the lordly brute, instead of devouring it, beheld it with an eye of philosophic inspection. He turned it over with one paw, and then turned it with the other; smelled of it, and seemed desirous of courting a further acquaintance. The keeper, on seeing this, brought a large mess of his own family dinner; but the lion kept aloof, and refused to eat, keeping his eye on the dog, and inviting him, as it were, to be his, taster. At length, the little animal's fears being something abated, and his appetite quickened by the smell of the victuals,47 he approached slowly, and with trembling ventured to eat. The lion then advanced gently and began to partake, and they finished their meal very lovingly together.
5. From this day the strictest friendship commenced between them, - a friendship consisting of all possible affection and tenderness on the part of the lion, and of the utmost confidence and boldness on the part of the dog ; insomuch that he'would lay himself down to sleep within the fangs and under the jaws of his terrible pātron.
6. A gentleman who had lost the spaniel, and had ad'vertised83 a reward of two guineasEl to the finder, at length heard of the adventure, and went to reclaim the dog. “You see, sir," said the keeper, “it would be a great pity to part such loving friends; however, if you insist upon having your property, you must even be pleased to take him yourself; it is a task that I would not engage in for five hundred guineas.” The gentleman rose into great wrath, but finally chose to acquiesce rather than have a personal dispute with the lion.
7. As Mr. Felton had a curiosity to see the two friends eat together, he sent for twenty pounds of beef, which was accordingly cut in pieces, and given into the cage; when immediately the little brute, whose appetite happened to be eager at the time, was desirous of making a monop'oly of the whõie, and putting bis pa as upon the meat, and grumbling and barking, he auda. ciously flew in the face of the lion. But the generous creature, instead of being offended with his im'potent companion, es started back, and seemed terrified at the fury of his attack, neither attempted to eat a bit till his favorite had tacitly given permission.
8. When they were both gorged, the lion stretched and turned himself, and lay down in an evident posture for repose; but this his sportive companion would not admit. He frisked and gambolled about him, barked at him, would now scrape and tear at liis head with his claws, and again seize him by the ear and bite and pull away; while the noble beast appeared affected by no other sentiment save that of pleasure and complācence. But let us proceed to the trăgic catas'trophë of this extraordinary i story; a story still known to many, as delivered down by tradition from father to son.
9. In about twelve months the little spaniel sickened and died, and left his loving pātron the most desolate of creatures. For a time the lion did not appear to conceive otherwise than that his favorite was asleep. He would continue to smell of him, and then would stir him with his nose, and turn him over with his paw ; but, finding that all his efforts to awake him were vain, he would traverse his cage from end to end at a swift and uneasy pace, then stop and look down upon him with a fixed and drooping regard ; and again” lift his head on high, and open his horrible throat, and prolong a roar, as of distant thunder, for several minutes together.
10. They attempted, but in vain, to convey the carcass from him; he watched it perpetually, and would suffer nothing to touch it. The keeper then endeavored to tempt him with vari. ety of victuals, but he turned with loathing from all that was offered. They then put several living dogs into his cage, and these he instantly tore piecemeal, but left their membersel on the floor.37 His passion being thus inflamed, he would dart his fangs into the board, and pluck away large splinters, and again grapple at the bars of his cage, and seem enraged at his restraint from tearing the world to pieces.
11. Again, as quite spent, he would stretch himself by the remains of his beloved associate, and gather him in with his paws, and put him to his bosom ; and then utter under-roars of such terrible melancholy as seemed to threaten all around, for the loss of his little playfellow, 94 the only friend, the only com panion, that he had upon earth.
LVIII. — TIE IMPRISONMENT OF BONNIVARD. 1. Failing in his enterprise for the liberation of Genēva, Bonnìvarder was transported to the castle of Chillon, El where & dreadful captivity awaited him. Bound by the middle of his body to a chain, the other end of which was attached to an iron ring in a pillar,90 he remained in this condition six years, free to move the length only of his chain, and able to recline only where203 it allowed him to extend himself.
2. The pavement was hollowed by his measured tread; but the thought that his captivity would perhaps avail nothing for the enfran'chisement of his country, and that Geneva and he were doomed to perpetual fetters, must have been more wearing to his mind121 than his steps to the stone.
“ Chillon ! thy prison is a holy place,
And thy sad floor an altar ; for 't was trod,
Worn, as if thy cold pavement were a sod,
For they appeal from tyranny to God.” 3. How happened it, in this long night, which no day broke in upon, and where the silence was disturbed by no sound save that of the waves of the lake dashing against the walls of his dungeon, — how happened it that the mind did not overpower the body, or the body the mind ? Why was it that the jailer, on going his rounds some morning, did not find his prisoner either dead or mad? One besetting - one eternal ideä, - was it not enough to break the heart, or paralyze the brain ?
4. And, during this time, – during these six years, during this eternity, - not a cry, not a murmur, as his jailers testified, escaped from the prisoner; although, without doubt, when the tempest was unloosed, — when the gale tore up the waves, whicn the rain and the blast lashed the walls, — he too had his utterance ; for then his voice might be lost in the great voice of nature ; for then God only could distinguish his cries and sobs; and, the next day, his jailers, who had not feasted on his despair, would find him calm and resigned, - the tempest in his heart subdued40 and hushed, like that in the sky
5. Ah! without that — without that would he not have dashed his brains out against the pillar to which he was chained? Could he have awaited that day when his countrymen simulta. nëously burst into his prison to rescue and to honor him ? A hundred voices then exclaimed, “Bonnivard, thou art free!” – • And Geneva ?” -“ Is also free !” ORIGINAL TRANSLATION,
ercises of the body succeeded to those of the mind; and Alexander, who was tall, active, and robust, surpassed most of his equals in the gymnasticks arts. Refreshed by the use of his bath, and a slight dinner, he resumed,95 with new vigor, the business of the day; and till the hour of supper,— the principal meal of the Romans,— he was attended by his secretaries, with whom he read and answered the multitude of letters, memorials, and petitions, that must have been addressed to the master of the greatest part of the world.
His table was served with the most frugal simplicity; and whenever he was at liberty to consult his own inclination, the company consisted of a few select friends, – men of learning and virtue. His dress was plain and modest; his demeanor, courteous and affable. At the proper hours, his palace was open to all his subjects; but the voice of a crier was heard, as in the Eleu. sinianEl mysteries, pronouncing the same salutary admonition, “ Let none enter these holy walls, unless he is conscious of a puro and innocent mind.”
2. QUEEN ELIZABETH. — Hume. There are few great personages in history who have been more exposed to the calumpy of enemies, and the adulation of friends, than Queen Elizabeth ;£ and yet there scarcely is any whose
great names, shining without twinkling or whoseura? not, třith cenr,
1. AND yět, after all, it is man
o id uld ha :f age about
; active, the most enterprising, the least scrupulous, - she was able,
by her vigor, to make deep impressions on their states. Her own greatness, meanwhile, remained unimpaired.
The wise ministers and brave warriors201 who flourished under ber reign share the praise of her success; but, instead of lessen
ing the apį lause due to her, they make great ad lition to it 'l'hey owed, all of them, their advancement to her choice; they were supported by her constancy; and, with all their abilities they were never able to acquire any undue ascendant over her, In her family, in her court, in her kingdom, she remained equally mistress; the force of the tender passions was great over her, but the force of her mind was still superior; and the combat 37 which her victory visibly cost her serves only to display the firmness of her resolution, and the loftiness of her ambitious sentiments.
The fame of this princess, though it has surmounted the prěj. udicesEl both of faction and bigotry, yet lies still exposed to another prejudice, which is more durable, because more natural, and which, according to the different views in which we survey her, is capable either of exalting beyond ineasure, or diminishing the lustre of her character. This prejudice is founded on the consideration of her sex.
When we contemplate 4 her as a woman, we are apt to be struck with the highest admiration of her great qualities and ex. tensive capacity ; but we are also apt to require some more softness of disposition, some greater lenity of temper, some of those ainiable we e s by which her sex is distinguished. But the true metho: o siunting her merit is, to lay aside all these con. sideich.;. in colier merely as a rational being, placed in with cute, apoi inerms į sith the government of mankind..
warisien ind? Why was it that the jailer,
3 riisis morning, did not find his prisoner pasr did riid 1: C.' besetting one eternal ideä, — was it ut enough to brak ibneart, or paralyze the brain ?
4. And, duris ris tin.: - during these six years, during this Cernity', ---- not a ry, I a murmur, as his jailers testified, Escaped for the priso ; although, without doubt, when the tarbie otwan ! Il esok ned, len the gale tore up the waves, when tik rain and the hottest la ed the walls, — he too had his utterBoles; for then his voi might be lost in the great voice of Po,,?**?; for then Goo could distinguish his cries and sobs; sinis next day, his j 's, who had not feasted on his despair, . ::;.) him calin resigned, - the tempest in his heart 0;" and bushi that in the sky. --without that would he not have
TON. — Quarterly Reviero.
the most dignified virtue. No man ever lived under a mult wwow.ng sense of responsibility. No man erer