an elevation with
which otherwise it would never have been acquainted."--Hume, _Treatise
of Human Nature._]

[Footnote 91: "The colour of our whole life is generally such as the
three or four first years in which we are our own masters make
it."--Cowper.]

[Footnote 92: "I refer to my old friend and corporeal pastor and master,
John Jackson, Esq., Professor of Pugilism, who I trust still retains the
strength and symmetry of his model of a form, together with his good humour
and athletic, as well as mental, accomplishments."--_Note on Don Juan,
Canto II_.]

[Footnote 93: Thus addressed always by Lord Byron, but without any
right to the distinction.]

[Footnote 94: The Journal entitled by himself "Detached Thoughts."]

[Footnote 95: Few philosophers, however, have been so indulgent to the
pride of birth as Rousseau.--"S'il est un orgueil pardonnable (he
says) apres celui qui se tire du merite personnel, c'est celui qui se
tire de la naissance."--_Confess._]

[Footnote 96: This gentleman, who took orders in the year 1814, is the
author of a spirited translation of Juvenal, and of other works of
distinguished merit. He was long in correspondence with Lord Byron,
and to him I am indebted for some interesting letters of his noble
friend, which will be given in the course of the following pages.]

[Footnote 97: He had also, at one time, as appears from an anecdote
preserved by Spence, some thoughts of burying this dog in his garden,
and placing a monument over him, with the inscription, "Oh, rare
Bounce!"

In speaking of the members of Rousseau's domestic establishment, Hume
says, "She (Therese) governs him as absolutely as a nurse does a
child. In her absence, his dog has acquired that ascendant. His
affection for that creature is beyond all expression or
conception."--_Private Correspondence._ See an instance which he gives
of this dog's influence over the philosopher, p. 143.

In Burns's elegy on the death of his favourite Mailie, we find the
friendship even of a sheep set on a level with that of man:--

"Wi' kindly bleat, when she did spy him,
She ran wi' speed:
A friend mair faithful ne'er came nigh him,
Than Mailie dead."

In speaking of the favourite dogs of great poets, we must not forget
Cowper's little spaniel "Beau;" nor will posterity fail to add to the
list the name of Sir Walter Scott's "Maida."]

[Footnote 98: In the epitaph, as first printed