test of the horses that it sped onwards,
reaches our ears; another moment brings the two foremost to the last
leap, the blue hesitates--the red springs into the air, drops
_d'aplomb_, then on again swifter than before. The blue sticks close to
him, is near, nearer still; comes up--

"Then anxious silence breaks in deafening cries,
His whip and spur each desperate rider plies;
The prescient coursers foaming, cheek by jowl,
Now see the stand and guess th' approaching goal;
True to their blood, and frantic still to win,
Goaded, they fly, and spent, will not give in;
Exactly matched, with fruitless efforts strain
In rival speed, a single inch to gain.
Once more, the fluttering Spencers urge the goad,
Bend o'er their saddles, lift them, light their load
Just at the goal--one spur and it is done!
The rowel'd _Red_ starts forward, and has won!"

After this exploit, the red, green, and yellow liveries could have done
what they would with the uninitiated Romans. Captain Cooke's arrival at
Otaheite; the first steamer seen on the Nile; the introduction of gun
and gunpowder amongst people hitherto hunting or making war with bow and
arrow,--are only parallel cases of that enthusiasm mixed with awe, with
which the Romans viewed the English gentleman jockeys on this day. They
would have been delighted to have it over again six times, but had to
learn that races (unlike songs) are never _encored_.

ROMAN DOGS.

A "dog's life" has become a synonym for suffering; nor does the
associating him with another domestic animal (if a second proverbial
expression may be trusted) appear to mend his condition; but ill as he
may fare with the cat, his position is less enviable when man is
co-partner in the menage, against whose kicks and hard usage should he
venture upon the lowest remonstrative growl, he is sure to receive a
double portion of both for his pains; and thus it has ever been, for the
condition of a dog cannot have changed materially since the creation.
Being naturally domestic in his habits, he was born to that contumely
"which patient merit from the unworthy takes," and can never have known
a golden age. "Croyez-vous," (demanda quelqu'un a Candide,) "que les
hommes ont toujours ete rans?" "Croyez-vous," (repliqua Candide,) "que
les eperviers ont toujours mange les pigeons." We entertain no more
doubt of the one than of the other, and must therefore applaud the
sagacity of Esop's wolf, who, when suffici