be "good for the
cattle."

[Illustration: The Old Coachman]

She has a favourite page to attend upon her person; a handsome boy of
about twelve years of age, but a mischievous varlet, very much spoiled,
and in a fair way to be good for nothing. He is dressed in green, with a
profusion of gold cord and gilt buttons about his clothes. She always
has one or two attendants of the kind, who are replaced by others as
soon as they grow to fourteen years of age. She has brought two dogs
with her also, out of a number of pets which she maintains at home. One
is a fat spaniel, called Zephyr--though heaven defend me from such a
zephyr! He is fed out of all shape and comfort; his eyes are nearly
strained out of his head; he wheezes with corpulency, and cannot walk
without great difficulty. The other is a little, old, grey-muzzled
curmudgeon, with an unhappy eye, that kindles like a coal if you only
look at him; his nose turns up; his mouth is drawn into wrinkles, so as
to show his teeth; in short, he has altogether the look of a dog far
gone in misanthropy, and totally sick of the world. When he walks, he
has his tail curled up so tight that it seems to lift his feet from the
ground; and he seldom makes use of more than three legs at a time,
keeping the other drawn up as a reserve. This last wretch is called
Beauty.

These dogs are full of elegant ailments unknown to vulgar dogs; and are
petted and nursed by Lady Lillycraft with the tenderest kindness. They
are pampered and fed with delicacies by their fellow-minion, the page;
but their stomachs are often weak and out of order, so that they cannot
eat; though I have now and then seen the page give them a mischievous
pinch, or thwack over the head, when his mistress was not by. They have
cushions for their express use, on which they lie before the fire, and
yet are apt to shiver and moan if there is the least draught of air.
When any one enters the room, they make a most tyrannical barking, that
is absolutely deafening. They are insolent to all the other dogs of the
establishment. There is a noble staghound, a great favourite of the
squire's, who is a privileged visitor to the parlour; but the moment he
makes his appearance, these intruders fly at him with furious rage; and
I have admired the sovereign indifference and contempt with which he
seems to look down upon his puny assailants. When her ladyship drives
out, these dogs are generally carried with her to take the air; when