can be
imagined; fed twice a-day, (latterly upon oats broken for
him,) with a comfortable stable to retire to, and a rich
pasture in which to range. The late amiable duchess used
regularly to feed him with bread, and this kindness had
given him the habit, (especially after her death,) of
approaching every lady with the most confiding familiarity.
He had been a fine animal, of middle size and a chestnut
colour, but latterly he exhibited an interesting specimen of
natural decay, in a state as nearly that of nature as can
well be found in a civilised country. He had lost an eye
from age, and had become lean and feeble, and, in the manner
in which he approached even a casual visiter, there was
something of the demand of sympathy, the appeal to human
kindness, which one has so often observed from a very old
dog towards his master. Poor Copenhagen, who, when alive,
furnished so many reliques from his mane and tail to
enthusiastic young ladies, who had his hair set in brooches
and rings, was, after being interred with military honours,
dug up by some miscreant, (never, I believe, discovered,)
and one of his hoofs cut off, it is to be presumed, for a
memorial, although one that would hardly go in the compass
of a ring. A very fine portrait of Copenhagen has been
executed by my young friend Edmund H a veil, a youth of
seventeen, whose genius as an animal painter, will certainly
place him second only to Landseer.

Whether in the "palmy state" of the faith of Rome, the pillared aisles
of the Abbey church might have vied in grandeur with the avenue at
Strathfield-saye, I can hardly say; but certainly, as they stand, the
venerable arched gateway, the rock-like masses of wall, the crumbling
cloisters, and the exquisite finish of the surbases of the columns and
other fragments, fresh as if chiselled yesterday, which are re-appearing
in the excavations now making, there is an interest which leaves
the grandeur of life, palaces and their pageantry, parks and their
adornments, all grandeur except the indestructible grandeur of nature,
at an immeasurable distance. The place was a history. Centuries passed
before us as we thought of the magnificent monastery, the third in size
and splendour in England, with its area of thirty acres between the
walls--and gazed upon it now!

And yet, even now, how beautiful! Tree