Note 29 — HOGARTH ILLUSTRATED.

I remember once seeing a practical lesson of humanity given to a little chimney-sweeper, which had, I dare say, a better effect than a volume of ethics. The young soot merchant was seated upon an alehouse bench, and had in one hand his brush, and in the other a hot buttered roll. While exercising his white masticators with a perseverance that evinced the highest gratification, he observed a dog lying on the ground near him. The repetition of "Poor fellow, poor fellow," in a good-natured tone, brought the quadruped from his resting-place: he wagged his tail, looked up with an eye of humble entreaty, and in that universal language which all nations understand, asked for a morsel of bread. The sooty tyrant held his remnant of roll towards him; but on the dog gently offering to take it, struck him with his brush so violent a blow across the nose as nearly broke the bone. A gentleman who, unperceived, had been a witness to the whole transaction, put a sixpence between his finger and thumb, and beckoned this little monarch of May-day to an opposite door. The lad grinned at the silver, but on stretching out his hand to receive it, the practical teacher of humanity gave him such a rap upon the knuckles with a cane as made them ring. His hand tingling with pain, and tears running down his cheeks, he asked "What that was for?" "To make you feel," was the reply. "How do you like a blow and a disappointment?—the dog endured both! Had you given him a piece of bread, this sixpence should have been the reward; you gave him a blow, I will therefore put the money in my pocket."