A DURBAR. 



One Sunday morning, not long ago, Hardwickii was busy 

 murdering some small creature at the foot of a tree, when 

 Lahtora spied him, and came gliding gently down, and, 

 before he was aware of any danger, he was knocked over 

 on his back, with those sharp claws imbedded in his snowy 

 breast, and that murderous beak hammering his head. 

 He hit back most 

 pluckily, and shrieked 

 piteously. Arcades 

 ambo, thought I, and 

 declined to interfere. 

 Still, my appearance 

 on the scene created 

 a diversion in the 

 little butcher's favour. 

 and with a desperate 

 struggle he freed him- 



ARCANE* 

 self and was off, but, like Tam o' Shanter's mare, with- 



out his tail. Hinc ilia lachrimce ! At the sight of his 

 oppressor the bitter memory of that morning comes upon 

 him, and, as he glances back at the place where the tail 

 should be, he can no longer contain his feelings. The 

 " poor dumb animals " can give each other a bit of their 



