n Switzerland; the
criminal, after he was seated in the chair, was offered a cup of coffee,
and as he was drinking it, the executioner, with one blow of his heavy
sword, struck his head clear off; for a second or two the blood flew up
like a fountain: the effect was horrid.

An Englishman at Lausanne had a very favourite Newfoundland dog, which
died. He was about to bury it, when the executioner interfered and
claimed the skin; and it was not until he had submitted to the demands
of this official gentleman, that he was permitted to bury his favourite
in a whole skin. Only imagine, half a dozen old dowagers of Park Lane,
whose puffy lap-dogs were dead in their laps, bargaining for their
darlings with Jack Ketch, because they wish to have them stuffed; and
Jack's extortion raising his demands, in proportion to the value
apparently placed upon the defunct favourites. Talking about lap-dogs,
one of the best stories relative to these creatures is to be found in
Madame de Crequey's Memoirs. A Madame de Blot, a French dandysette, if
the term may be used, who considered her own sex as bound to be
ethereal, and would pretend that the wing of a lark was more than
sufficient for her sustenance during the twenty-four hours, had one of
the smallest female spaniels that was ever known. She treated her like
a human being, and when she went out to a party, used to desire her
lady's maid to read the animal a comedy in five acts, to amuse it during
her absence. It so happened that a fat priest, who was anxious for the
protection of Madame de Blot, called to pay his respects. Madame de
Blot made a sign to him, without speaking, to take his seat upon a large
fauteuil. No sooner had the priest lowered down his heavy carcass into
the chair, than he felt something struggling under him, and a little
recollection told him that it must be the little spaniel. That it was
all over with the spaniel was clear, and that if her mistress had
discovered his accident, it was equally clear that it was all over with
him, as far as the patronage of Madame de Blot was concerned. The
priest showed a remarkable degree of presence of mind upon this trying
occasion. He rose himself up a little from his chair and plumped down,
so as to give the poor little spaniel her _coup de grace_, and then
entered into conversation with Madame de Blot. During the conversation
he contrived by degrees to cram the dog, tail and all, into his
capacious coat pockets.