sary, at Drury-lane, at a very short notice, to change the play from that which was announced by the bills. The Lord of the Manor was the substitute; but here a new difficulty arose; Miss Farren was ill, and Mr. John Palmer not to be found. In this dilemma, Miss Collet was called upon to read for the lady, and R. Palmer for his brother. Unluckily, the play had never been published, and the house contained but a single MS. copy of it. Our hero and Miss Collet, then, with each a candle in their hand, were to use this book alternately. She read, curtsied, and handed him the book; he read, bowed, and returned it: at length, coming to a passage that had been pretty much interlined (we believe in Mr. Sheridan's hand writing) Mr. Palmer could not proceed. The audience hissed most violently: and Palmer, for his justification, found it necessary to request that the book might be handed to any gentleman in the pit. The person who took it, having looked at the part, stood on the seat, and declared to the house that he conceived it to be absolutely illegible. On this, the book was returned; the passage passed over; the audience loudly applauded, and they went on, till the third act; when John Palmer, having entered the house to dress for the farce, resumed his part; Robert took up the character of Crimp, which was regularly assigned to him; and the piece was concluded.

But the new characters that remained to give him a more permanent estimation in the public mind, were, Sir Harry Harmless, in I'll tell You What, Prompt, in the Heiress, and Skipwell, in Tit for Tat...

vour.

From that time Mr. Palmer has rapidly gained on the public faWhen his brother John withdrew to open the Royalty Theatre, his part of Joseph Surface was offered to Mr. Bensley, and afterwards to Mr. Brereton, but declined by them both; and Robert Palmer was the first person who performed it after the favourite original. To this succeeded Sir Harry Beagle, in The Jealous Wife; and by the decease of Dodd, the secession of Moody, and the lamented death of his brother John, a variety of other characters have fallen to his lot. His reputation has been still further increased by his successful performance of the very difficult character of Falstaff.

Those who have the pleasure of knowing him in private life, report him to be highly gifted with companionable qualities, having been all his theatrical life a close observer, and having stored his mind with an almost inexhaustible fund of histrionic anecdote.

A CHAPTER ON DOGS.

BY

"A FRIEND TO DOGS, FOR THEY ARE HONEST CREATURES,
"AND NE'ER BETRAY THEIR MASTERS." Otway.

MR. EDITOR,

6

A wooden horse proved the destruction of Troy; a live dog is likely to prevent that of Drury-Lane theatre. Carlo is the Roscius who promises to rival Garrick in attraction, and to bear away the palm from the most powerful of his two-footed competitors in the service of the tragic and comic Muses. The admiration which the performänces of this animal have excited in the theatre, and the conversa→ tion he has occasioned out of it, will justify my troubling you with the following instances of sagacity and sensibility in the canine species, for which, if you think with me, that dogs should have their day,' you will perhaps find room in some part of your miscellany. Histories, (says Pope, in a letter to H. Cromwell, Esq.) are more full of examples of the fidelity of dogs than of friends; but I will not insist upon many of them, because it is possible some may be almost as fabulous as those of Pylades and Orestes, &c. I will only say, for the honour of dogs, that the two most ancient and esteemed books, sacred and prophane, extant, (viz. the Scripture and Homer) have shewn a particular regard to these animals. That of Tobit is the more remarkable, because there seemed no manner of reason to take notice of the dog, besides the great humanity of the author. Homer's account of Ulysses' dog, Argus, is the most pathetic imaginable, all the circumstances considered, and an excellent proof of the old bard's good nature. Ulysses had left him at Ithaca, when he embarked for Troy, and found him at his returri, after twenty years, which, by the way, is not unnatural, as some critics have said, since I remember the dam of my dog was twenty-two years old when she died. You shall have it in verse.

ARGUS.

"When wise Ulysses, from his native coast
Long kept by wars, and long by tempests tost,
Arriv'd at last, poor, old, disguis'd, alone,
To all his friends, and e'en his queen, unknown:
Chang'd as he was, with age, and toils, and cares,
Furrow'd his rev'rend face, and white his hairs;
In his own palace forc'd to ask his bread,
Scorn'd by those slaves his former bounty fed;

3 CVOL. XVI.

Forgot of all his own domestic crew;

The faithful dog alone his rightful master knew!
Unfed, unhous'd, neglected, on the clay,
Like an old servant, now cashier'd, he lay:
Touch'd with resentment of ungrateful man,
And longing to behold his ancient lord again.
Him when he saw-he rose, and crawl'd to meet,
('Twas all he could) and fawn'd, and kiss'd his feet;
Seiz'd with dumb joy-then falling by his side,

Own'd his returning lord, look'd up, and died!

"Plutarch, relating how the Athenians were obliged to abandon Athens, in the time of Themistocles, steps back again, out of the way of his history, purely to describe the lamentable cries and howlings of the poor dogs they left behind. He makes mention of one that followed his master* across the sea to Salamis, where he died, and was honoured with a tomb by the Athenians, who gave the name of the Dog's Grave to that part of the island where he was buried. This respect to a dog, in the most polite people of the world, is very observable. A modern instance of gratitude to a dog (though we have but few such) is, that the chief order of Denmark (now injuriously called the order of the Elephant) was instituted in memory of the fidelity of a dog, named Wild-brat, to one of their kings, who had been deserted by his subjects: he gave his order this motto, or to this effect, (which still remains,) Wild-brat was faithful. Sir William Trumbull has told me a story, which he heard from one that was present: King Charles I. being with some of his court during his troubles, a discourse arose what sort of dogs deserved pre-eminence; and it being, on all hands, agreed to belong either to the spaniel or greyhound, the king gave his opinion on the part of the greyhound, because (said he) he has all the good-nature of the other, without the fawning. A good piece of satire upon his courtiers, with which I will end my discourse of dogs."

The sensibility of Xantippus's dog is equalled by the sagacity of another, to which Plutarch affirms he was himself an eye-witness. Being once on ship-board, he observed a jar which was about half filled with oil. A dog was very desirous of paying his addresses to the contents; but the oil was too low in the vessel for him to get at it. The seamen were all engaged different ways, and the dog, willing to make the most of the favourable opportunity, took up, successively, a number of stones which were stowed in that part of

* Xantippus.

the ship, and, dropping them one by one into the jar, the oil at last rose within his reach, and he lapped as much of it as he pleas ed. "I was astonished," says Plutarch, "by what means the dog could know that the immission of heavier substances would cause the lighter substance to ascend."

The following incidents are equally striking.* The dead body of a Roman soldier, who had been killed in a domestic tumult, was carefully watched and guarded by his dog, who would not per mit any person to touch the remains of his departed master. Pyrr hus, king of Epirus, happening to pass that way, took notice of so striking a spectacle, and enquired into the circumstances of the case. On being informed that the man had been slain three days before, and that the dog, in all that time, had neither stirred from the body, nor taken any food, the king ordered the corpse to be interred, and the dog to be taken care of, and brought to him. The creature soon grew fond of Pyrrhus, who, shortly after, ordering his forces to be mustered, the soldiers passed before him in review. During this ceremony, the dog, for some time, lay quietly at his feet; until seeing those soldiers march by, who had murdered his late master, he sprang at them, with such rage and fierceness, and turned himself to Pyrrhus, with such meaning in his looks and gestures, that the men were sent to prison, on suspicion of having committed the crime with which the dog seemed to charge them. Being strictly examined, they confessed themselves guilty, and were accordingly executed.

The temple of Esculapius, at Athens, was furnished with many rich ornaments and utensils of gold and silver. A robber, who was desirous of paying his compliments to some of this wealth, accomplished his design with such art and secresy, that he supposed all discovery of the offender to be impossible. A dog, indeed, belonging to some of those whose office it was to watch the temple, had done his duty, by barking incessantly; but the sextons either did not, or would not, take the alarm. The honest animal, faithful and steady to his purpose, pursued the thief, who in vain attempted to keep him at bay. He pelted him with stones, but the dog still followed. He tried to bribe him, by throwing him pieces of meat; but the dog refused to touch them. The pursuer still kept the criminal in view, nor lost sight of him until he had watched him to his place of habitation, (which was at some distance from Athens,) where he posted himself, as centinel, at the door. Whenever the culprit ventured from home, Cipparus (for so the dog was

* From Plutarch.

called) still haunted him. The news of the robbery was soon made public, but the robber still remained undetected, until information being given that Cipparus, the temple dog, was at such a place, and perpetually harassing such a person, though fawning on every body else; proper officers were dispatched, who took the suspicious man into custody. While they were conducting him to examination, the dog, conscious of the distinguished part he had borne in bringing the miscreant to justice, ran before them all the way, jumping, and giving every demonstration of joy. The Athenian people recompensed the zeal, faithfulness, and assiduity of Cipparus, by assigning him to the care of the priests who officiated in the Esculapian temple, and by voting him a supply, from the public stores, for his maintenance.

Who can withhold his respect for the Hyrcanian dog, who, when he saw his master's corpse burning on the funeral pile, jumped into the flames, and was consumed with it? Or to the dog of one Pyrrhus (not the king) who gave his deceased master the same testimony of affection?

I must not pass over the remarkable duel between a person of distinction and a dog, in the year 1371, in presence of King Charles the Fifth of France. Both the relation and the print of this duel are to be found in father Montfaucon,*

"A gentleman of the court was supposed to have murdered another, who had been missing for some days. This suspicion arose from the mute testimony of the absent person's dog, a large Irish greyhound, who, with uncommon rage, attacked this supposed murderer wherever he met him. As he was a gentleman, and a man of very nice honour (though by the way he really had murdered the man) he could not bear lying under so dishonourable a suspicion, and therefore applied to the king for leave to justify his innocence by single combat with the said dog. The king, being a great lover of justice, granted his suit, ordered lists to be made ready, appointed the time, and named the weapons. The gentleman was to have an offensive club in his hand, the dog a defensive tub to resort to occasionally, The Irish greyhound willingly met this fair inviter at the time and place appointed; for it has always been observable of that particular breed, that they have an uncom→ mon alacrity at single combat. They fought, the dog prevailed, and almost killed the honourable gentleman, who had then the honour to confess his guilt, and of being hanged for it in a few days."