VOL. II.

stript the body of its coffin, throwing it promiscuously among the rubbish; but upon discovering whose it was, the mangled remains were inclosed in a strong oak coffin, and buried near the large north-east pillar which formerly assisted to support the belfry.

This prince was grandson to the victorious. King Edward III.—Every humane and sensible mind reflects with horror upon the savage indecency with which the remains of this prince. has been treated! Well might Hamlet, in considering the transmutation of the bones of Alexander the Great, exclaim

"To what base uses may we not return, Horatio ?”

Z

LETTER XXVI.

Bury, October 1800.

Your favour of the Parisian anecdote of the faithful dog demands my thanks, although I had previously received it from a Friend in London. I give prompt credit to every circumstance; and it is another proof, added to the almost countless ones in my mind, of the love, friendship, and other domestic af fections of the canine for the human race. I believe, that there is in the constitution of their nature, a something that attracts them to man even more than to each other; at least, that we have their social feelings more firmly and fondly than their own species. It is singular enough, that at the time I receive your anec

dote from France on this subject, I meet with the following one in an English paper :

"At the late battle of Ballynahinch, one of the insurgents who fell in the engagement was followed by a Dog.-The faithful animal for three days lay across his master's bosom until buried, and then for some time constantly attended his grave, only at intervals when hunger forced him into town! His remarkable sagacity being observed, a person took him, and by care and attention, he seems to forget the loss of his unhappy master."

I have long intended, in a general way, to say something upon the subject of our attachment upon these sovereign quadrupeds, as well as of their claim to it; and I should have given my thoughts a fixed station in our correspondence, in consequence of the above canine anecdotes, had not the death of a four-footed favourite, who has for upwards of fifteen years served and loved a family whom I visit in this very town, given to those thoughts a more particular application. Poor Toby! he has rendered the

subject more personal and more touching; and you will perceive that I have incorporated a defence of our feelings for the loss of favourite animals with the character and circumstances which are more especially appropriate to himself. The defence, indeed, is little more than a simple statement of the services and qualities of the canine species, as known and admitted by every man; but we know and admit many things, of which we do not sufficiently feel the force; and I have long thought that the impression in favour of these superior creatures would be much stronger were their pretentions to our indulgent sympathy while alive, and to our regret when dead, brought before their patrons and protectors in the garb of poetry; which, surely, need not disguise or deform, but make the charms of truth more amiable and attractive.

Defence of our Attachment to Animals.

WHY does the MUSE, who, swan-like, loves to mourn
In tuneful strains, oft breathe her tend'rest sigh,
And wreath her darkest Cypress round the Urn
To Feeling dear, when dumb Domestics die?

Why does the INFANT, when some feather'd Friend From the soft cradling arms is snatch'd away,

Sad o'er the body of a favʼrite bend,

And, years elaps'd, still wail it in the lay?

Or why, the emblem Lamb delight to rear,
Much for its frolic lov'd, its meekness more;
Why watch it with a mother's tender care,

And long lament, when its brief life is o'er?

Why does the MAN, in Youth's impetuous course,
Proud tho' he be, view with exulting eyes,
His hound sagacious, or his generous horse?
In sickness nurse, lament him when he dies?