eel now but an omnibus hack.

"An omnibus hack?--and only a drudge?--
Is Duty no more in the eyes of the Judge?
He set thee this toil; His providence gave
These bounds to His freedman; yes, free--not a slave!
And if thou wilt serve Him, content with thy lot,
Cheerfully working and murmuring not,
Be sure, my poor brother--whose skies are so black--
Thou art His dear child, though an omnibus hack!"

My "Mercy to Animals," a simple handbill, has done great good, as it has
prose instructions about loading, harnessing, &c. It also is to be had
for a penny at Jermyn Street aforesaid: here is the first verse:--

"O boys and men of British mould,
With mother's milk within you!
A simple word for young and old,
A word to warn and win you;
You've each and all got human hearts,
As well as human features,
So hear me, while I take the parts
Of all the poor dumb creatures."

For my own part I have done it all my life. Those of my book-friends who
have my Miscellaneous Poems may refer in this connection to verses
therein on "A Dead Dog" and "A Dead Cat," and to those on "Cruelty."
Also in "Proverbial Philosophy," especially as to the "Future of
Animals," and their too shameful treatment in this world, one good
reason for a compensative existence.

CHAPTER XXXIX.

ORKNEY AND SHETLAND.

I took my family to these Northern Isles of the Sea in 1859, sailing
from Aberdeen in a once-a-week steamer; some of our passengers were
notable, as Dasent of the Norse Tales (since Sir George) and his sons,
Day the Oxonian in Norway, Ellicott, now Bishop of Bristol, Biot
Edmondstone, and some others, inclusive of our noble selves. It was a
dark night and a dense fog, and we had perilously to thread our careful
way through the herring-fleet, fog-horns blowing all night, whilst our
distinguished party bivouacked on deck, every cabin having been secured
by folks crowding to the Kirkwall fair; and so we enjoyed a seagoing
experience which, however cold and dark, was warmed and brightened by
the conversation of clever friends all night through.

Next day, jumping into a boat on the top of a wave (it was very rough
weather), I and a few others landed at Wick, and witnessed the
extraordinary scene of a herring harvest being cured. Much as at
Cincinnati they say pigs walk in, and come out at the other end of a
long gallery salted and smoked,--live herrings are within so