and maunders by the yard, contrasts
himself with the common herd of humanity,
looks upon the past with bitterness, and upon
the future with scorn, stigmatises civilisation,
and pronounces the world to be a waste. He
is also much afflicted with dreams, wherein
he hears voices, takes retrospective views of
the scenes of his wanderings, and (especially)
refrequents verdant landscapes. Here is a
verdant landscape.

(Where butterflies proclaimed the day)
'Mid rippling rills o'er grandeur flowing,
And earth itself in bounty glowing.
All nature smiled in bright array,
Theatric aspect gilded day,
Arcana'd space and nectrine rills,
Outlived the distance of the hills,
Which seemed to dance in ecstacy,
As sunshine laughing crossed the lea,
And lit with glare the garden world,
Which seemed as if from Eden hurled.

Thus, even beneath the benignest influences
of Nature, it is seen that this awful
aborigine cannot refrain from savage language
—the garden–world is hurled from Eden, and
lit with glare, which must be a very bad
substitute for gas or daylight.

Yarra Yarra seems to be a sort of amateur
commercial traveller, or queen's messenger,
and is perpetually traversing land and sea
with no especial object beyond that of
picking up scraps of French and other foreign
languages; of these he is excessively fond,
and uses them, in this, his Epic, copiously.
He exhorts the sea–birds to go home quietly,
as though he were a marine policeman, after
the following fashion:

Then vanishing off, o'er the wide ocean soar,
Scan the wild mermaid, and rude swimming boar,
Kii route to tho sea–rocks, in which ye may find
Your crevice secluded, by seaweed belined.

At Lima, again, he complains that the
people,

    crowd around to gloat upon a sight
Of brutal torture, and applaud en masse;

and rejoices that the ladies wear 'no chapeau,
bon, or veil.'

The noble savage is, indeed, characteristically
vain of this sort of conversational tinsel
picked out of continental handbooks.
Mr.Cornwallis having, as he opines, a talent for
describing the ocean in a state of fury, takes
every opportunity of getting Yarra Yarra
wrecked. In one of these mischances, our
hero has the luck to be the sole companion
on a raft, of a young woman (Number four)
named Mabel. Tho acquaintance between
them had only commenced about half–an–hour
or so; the girl's sole parent had been washed
away; everybody in tlie ship but their two
selves had been drowned; their circumstances
altogether are inconvenient in the
extreme for a declaration of affection; yet
such is the fascinating influence which this
gibbering savage exercises over the female
sex, that,

'And must we die, and must we part, my love?
'Cried fainting Mabel, as she gazed above.'
I sank, I groaned, then grasped her to my breast—
Hysterically (?) clasped her, and caressed
That form insensible that on me lay
On this dull morning and eventful day.

It is right to state that eventually Mabel
becomes Mrs. Yarra Yarra, although without
apparently conferring any particular happiness
upon that gentleman. Within twenty
lines of the end, indeed, he openly expresses
a wish that Quillah Quah would rise into
life once more, in order that, in her company,
he might linger and for ever rest.

OLD DOG TRAY.

OLD Dog Tray as the representative of a
class, has had many admirers and hearty
appreciators, besides the individual who so
mournfully deplores the loss of one particular
Dog Tray in the song. In company with those
other virtues which have characterised the
good and the noble, have been always found a
certain tenderness and regard for the simple
virtues and honest nature of the Dog. I
will go this far even—that when Saint Eligius
or Saint Eloy (who is perhaps better known,
from his protest against King Dagobert's
peculiar notions on the score of wearing
apparel) was composing that famous sermon
describing the points distinguishing the true
Christian man, he might have fitted in
parenthetically the necessity of kindliness towards
the poor trusting Dog. If not positive
inclination towards him, at least that negative
feeling which will restrain the venting of
ill–conditioned rage upon his helpless body;
that will stay the uplifted stick, or foot drawn
back. The savages who thus make convenient
souffre–douleurs, or whipping–posts of
poor quadrupeds, are likely enough, if they
had the power, so to use their fellows. There
is no discriminating force in this virtue of
mercy. No man shall say to himself, I can
feel tender–hearted for one class of living
creatures, but not for another. It will always
be true that the just man is merciful to his
beast.

It is comfortable, however, to think that
as the world waxes older, the social position,
of the Dog improves. There is an Act
of Parliament standing in the books for his
benefit, and there is a benevolent society
which looks after him carefully, and sees
that no cruelty is wrought upon him. The
gentle sport of bull–baiting and dog–fighting
has passed away with the cockpits. The
stimulating barbarities portrayed in Mr.
William Hogarth's picture are now as fables.
The worst inconvenience laid upon him is
that bearing of a muzzle during the season
named complimentarily after him. And so