A bristly Scotch TERRIER, his eyes black and keen, Thus attack'd the last speaker--"Pray what do you mean? To boast of your service no longer of use; If you still roasted meat, there _might_ be some excuse; But Smoak-jacks, and Rumfords, and other new hits Ease you (thank the Dog Star) from turning of spits. But to be in such haste to record your own worth, And speak before me, a famed dog of the North, Who all vermine destroy, Mouse, Weazle, or Rat!" Says the Turnspit--"why so can my mistress's Cat."-- "You crooked leg'd Cur," said the TERRIER, "to dare Such talents as mine, with a Cat's to compare"-- The PRESIDENT SHEEP-DOG to order now call'd 'em, ('Twas well they grew quiet, or else he'd have maul'd 'em) He threaten'd the meeting should instantly close-- Here the PUG and the SPANIARD, each turn'd up his nose. But a dapper BARBET, so blithe and so smart, With his ruffles, and ruff, all shorn with such art, Tript forward, and said his tricks he would play-- He tumbled,--fetch'd ball,--and down for dead lay,-- Then started alive to defend GEORGE THE THIRD, While, in pleasure loud barking, their plaudits were heard. EIGHT CURS, thus encouraged, stepp'd out with delight, And suddenly rear'd on their hind legs upright, They bow'd, and they curtsey'd with infinite skill, And danced on the turf a graceful quadrille. More MONGRELS rush forward, all eager to tell, How their masters they serve, and in what they excel; Each follow'd or Pedlar, or Tinker, or Gipsy, And watch'd o'er the goods, while their masters got tipsy. The POACHER'S-DOG trembling, and all in a fright, Then whisper'd, _he_ follow'd his master by night; _He_ never gave tongue, he safely could say, And not telling tales, slunk slyly away. "Stop a moment, dear Sir, and look not so rueful, But hearken to me who'm the Dog for a Truffle; Though your body be thin, and your spirits be low, Comparisons often will comfort bestow; Look at me, and acknowledge, that I'm somewhat leaner, For they famish poor TRUFFLER to make him the keener."
[Illustration: "_And watch'd o'er the Goods while their masters got tipsy." p. 10._]
[Illustration: "_At length rose the Mastiff so gruff, and so surly." p. 11._]