India fans, shelly grottoes, sanded churches, ancient almanacs, or older samplers; nor of the plaster casts of busts, and gems, and medals, in this studio of the cobbler virtuoso, besides pebbles, crystals, peacocks' and parrots' feathers, and ears of corn, and feathery tops of reeds, and gothic watch-cases, with gothic watches in them, upon and over the whole mantelpiece; but I beg the reader to pity me, when I tell him, that I saw-in glazed black boxes, papered white within, the feathery coverings, and beaded eyes, of shrivelled and distorted birds, perched upon sticks exactly like the timbers in my trap, and garnished forth with tufts of yellow withered moss, or made to hold, in their dead beaks, beetles as dead as the beaks, and by which, living, they could not have been so detained! For a single instant, I believed that all these birds were yet alive, and that the real secret of my lot was, that I had been brought to be imprisoned in their company; but, besides that I soon discovered in the glaring eyes, the cramped legs and necks, and the smeared and ruffled feathers, that they were but mockeries of living gait and beauty; I was also soon assisted, by Mr. Gubbins himself, to learn the history of these piteous mummies, and to form, once more, a new estimate of the horrors which probably awaited me, when those "comical rogues" of Ralph Wilcox, finishing their tea, should set about to finish me as well! I learned that Cobbler Dykes was an adept at stuffing birds and beasts; that he stripped off skins as he stripped off upper-leathers; that he pared joints and flesh as he pared soles; and that he sewed up bodies which he had embalmed, as he sewed up seams which had given way! Mr. Gubbins complimented him upon his skill, and admired his last new

performances, which consisted, however, not, this time, in deforming the aspects of birds, but only those of beasts; a grinning kitten, which looked as if it were then drowning; and a monkey, dried, and habited like a sailor, seated in a boat, at his oar, and smoking a short blackened pipe, which the cobbler, with some reluctance, had spared from his own mouth, to adorn the mouth of Pug. I took notice that Mr. Dykes had not judged proper to habit Pug as a cobbler, and to give him a bench and apron; as some other stuffer, and at least a sailor, less tenacious of the respect belonging to shoe-mending, would have been likely to prefer!

I saw plainly, at this juncture, and in long and dismal perspective, the whole series of all those remaining troubles of my existence which Mr. Gubbins had assured me should soon be over! It was clear enough, with the sights now before me, that Cobbler Dykes was to make me a collar; that I was to be hanged, or at least strangled, perhaps by the united hands of Mr. Gubbins and the cobbler and his wife; and that then, instead of being buried in the shade of a rose-bush, as would have been performed by Emily and Richard, had I died in the garden of Burford Cottage; or thrown into the next green field, or even upon the next dunghill, as I might have hoped from savages any thing short of those that had engaged in the present plot; and in which I might have been swallowed by the first carrion-crow, or given my feathers to the sportive winds, my flesh to the beetles, green and gold; and my bones been picked by the ants, who would have left them only in ivory whiteness ;instead of this, after my strangling, I was to be cut and carved, and embalmed and camphorated, and cobbled

D

into the semblance of life, to enrich, years after years, the museum of Mr. Dykes! Was I not to be pitied?

"I think, friend Dykes," said Mr. Gubbins," that it cannot be less than fifty years since thee and I found out each other's taste for Nature and her works; since we began to collect flowers, and leaves, and shells, and birds'-eggs; and since we used to rise together in the morning to listen to the larks; and go into the woods at night, to drink in, with all our ears, the luscious tunings of the nightingale?"

"thee

"It's true, it's true," replied Cobbler Dykes, " but thee always soaredst higher than I; and, not content with the birds, and beasts, and crickets, and butterflies, thee lookedst at the stars, and at the skies that hold them; and would'st needs find out causes, and be a philosopher, while I was but a humble naturalist!" "Ah! Master Dykes," returned Mr. Gubbins, hadst always a head, too, as well as I; but thee wast more taken with outward figures of things, and I with their inner substance. Yet, though I have given myself to books, and thee to mechanics and handicraft; thee hast persevered in the gaining of natural knowledge, and art no mean ornithologist, I can tell thee; as well as diver into many other matters of curious entertainment. Thee hast a head, Master Dykes; and I think (though, perhaps, I know not how it happens) that there are not a few examples of artists of thy gentle craft, that are curious in books or in nature, like thyself."

"I have always been curious concerning birds, I confess," said Cobbler Dykes: "thee know'st that I have been up early and late, to catch them, and to stuff them; and to hang them, as thee seest, about my

poor ragged walls. I love the little creatures so much; their feathers are so beautiful, and there is such a variety !"

"Oh! the ogre," ," I exclaimed to myself; " his love of birds is the counterpart of the love of those who love a leg and a wing, and a piece of the breast;' he loves them as they were loved by a certain divine, who writes thus to his grandson: You are fond of birds, especially pretty little birds, that have pretty feathers, -blue, green, yellow, red, fine glossy black, and fair lily white, with nice bills and beautiful legs. Now you must know, Adam, that I am very fond of these nice little birds. I love little birds; yes, I love them even when they are dead; and I get their skins stuffed, and made to look just as if the birds were alive*!' Loving soul! and just such as he, thought I, are these lovers of birds, Messrs. Gubbins and Dykes; for these curious people are sometimes sad tormentors of the objects of their curiosity! I thank the reverend writer, in the meantime, for all that he has said of Robins; and especially for his hint about giving us morsels of cheese, of which, as he justly says, we are Alas! cheese drew myself into the trap!

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very fond."

I omit, however, a great part of the conversation of these men-wolves, and of the witch that managed the tea-cups (for these they long appeared to me); partly because much of it had nothing to do with myself, and therefore to me, during these lingering moments, no object to fix my attention, or imprint my memory; and partly because much more of it consisted in the sickening details (some of them already known to the reader), of my hapless capture in the brick

* Life of Adam Clarke, LL. D., F. S. A., &c.

trap; and the full account of which, the long premeditation of the violence, the cunning of the artifice, and the chuckling of the triumph, all contributed to disgust, enrage, and mortify me. I hasten toward a brighter period; or, toward that epoch in the table-talk, which dissipated my heavier fears, and softened my fiercer anger; which promised me a speedy restoration to my freedom, and only left me to smile at the ignorance, and to resent the frivolous impertinence, which had occasioned me so much pain, and grief, and terror, and thirst, and hunger; but of all which no serious consequence was to follow or remain! I had been brought from home only to see whether I could find my way back; and I was to be set free in the twinkling of an eye, though with a leather collar round my neck,-that I might be known for I! The reader will be half as happy as I was, to learn this most favourable change in my day's prospects!

"And yet," said Cobbler Dykes, "though it may be as well to prove it by experiment, I think there is hardly room for doubt that Robin will find his way home, and take his supper in his old quarters, wherever they are, this very evening. The distance is but six miles; he must certainly know the country; and, in his way of travelling, neither the distance nor the time can be worth mentioning. They say that the crow flies twenty-five miles an hour, the goose sixty, and the swift ninety."

"Thee knowest," remarked Mr. Gubbins, "that it is only about his finding his way that I am curious; and that I allow the time and the distance, provided he does not lose himself, to be no difficulties in the matter. Thee knowest, in short, that it has been a favourite notion of mine, that other birds, and indeed other