, Moses and Shakespeare, I ought to be exceedingly good and somewhat
clever."

At Landor's feet was always crouched a beautiful Pomeranian dog, the
gift of his kind American friend, William W. Story. The affection
existing between "Gaillo" and his master was really touching. Gaillo's
eyes were always turned towards Landor's; and upon the least
encouragement, the dog would jump into his lap, lay his head most
lovingly upon his master's neck, and generally deport himself in a very
human manner. "Gaillo is such a dear dog!" said Landor, one day, while
patting him. "We are very fond of each other, and always have a game of
play after dinner; sometimes, when he is very good, we have two. I am
sure I could not live, if he died; and I know that, when I am gone, he
will grieve for me." Thereupon Gaillo wagged his tail, and looked
piteously into _padrone's_ face, as much as to say he would be grieved
indeed. Upon being asked if he thought dogs would be admitted into
heaven, Landor answered: "And, pray, why not? They have all of the good
and none of the bad qualities of man." No matter upon what subject
conversation turned, Gaillo's feelings were consulted. He was the only
and chosen companion of Landor in his walks; but few of the Florentines
who stopped to remark the _vecchio con quel bel canino_, knew how great
was the man upon whom they thus commented.

It is seldom that England gives birth to so rampant a republican as
Landor. Born on the 30th of January, two years before our Declaration of
Independence, it is probable that the volcanic action of those troublous
times had no little influence in permeating the mind of the embryo poet
with that enthusiasm for and love of liberty for which he was
distinguished in maturer years. From early youth, Landor was a poor
respecter of royalty and rank _per se_. He often related, with great
good-humor, an incident of his boyhood which brought his democratic
ideas into domestic disgrace. An influential bishop of the Church of
England, happening to dine with young Landor's father one day, assailed
Porson, and, with self-assumed superiority, thinking to annihilate the
old Grecian, exclaimed "_We_ have no opinion of his scholarship." Irate
at this stupid pronunciamento against so renowned a man, young Landor
looked up, and, with a sarcasm the point of which was not in the least
blunted by age, retorted, "_We_, my Lord?" Of course such unheard of
audacity and contempt of my Lord Bishop's cap