uperior mind is always struck on beholding any
of the great works of Providence.

'Come, my dear lord!' said Lady Dashfort; 'with our sublime sensations,
we are keeping my old friend, Mr. Alick Brady, this venerable person,
waiting, to show us into the reception-room.'

The servant bowed respectfully--more respectfully than servants of
modern date.

'My lady, the reception-room has been lately painted--the smell of paint
may be disagreeable; with your leave, I will take the liberty of showing
you into my master's study.'

He opened the door, went in before her, and stood holding up his finger,
as if making a signal of silence to some one within. Her ladyship
entered, and found herself in the midst of an odd assembly: an eagle,
a goat, a dog, an otter, several gold and silver fish in a glass globe,
and a white mouse in a cage. The eagle, quick of eye but quiet of
demeanour, was perched upon his stand; the otter lay under the table,
perfectly harmless; the Angora goat, a beautiful and remarkably little
creature of its kind, with long, curling, silky hair, was walking about
the room with the air of a beauty and a favourite; the dog, a tall
Irish greyhound--one of the few of that fine race which is now almost
extinct--had been given to Count O'Halloran by an Irish nobleman,
a relation of Lady Dashfort's. This dog, who had formerly known her
ladyship, looked at her with ears erect, recognised her, and went to
meet her the moment she entered. The servant answered for the peaceable
behaviour of all the rest of the company of animals, and retired. Lady
Dashfort began to feed the eagle from a silver plate on his stand; Lord
Colambre examined the inscription on his collar; the other men stood in
amaze. Heathcock, who came in last, astonished out of his constant
'Eh! re'lly now!' the moment he put himself in at the door, exclaimed,
'Zounds! what's all this live lumber?' and he stumbled over the goat,
who was at that moment crossing the way. The colonel's spur caught in
the goat's curly beard; the colonel shook his foot, and entangled the
spur worse and worse; the goat struggled and butted; the colonel skated
forward on the polished oak floor, balancing himself with outstretched
arms.

The indignant eagle screamed, and, passing by, perched on Heathcock's
shoulders. Too well-bred to have recourse to the terrors of his beak,
he scrupled not to scream, and flap his wings about the colonel's ears.
Lady Dashfort, the while, threw