2^o The Poets Beasts. 



" Stood all astound, like a sort of steeres, 

 'Mongst whom some beast of strange and forralne race 

 Unwares is chaunc't, far straying from his peers." 



Then familiarity with the object would probably lead to 

 personalities, and when it came to fighting the prize-winner 

 of Smithfield would have but a hard time of it. So it is 

 better that he should remain where he is appreciated, and 

 where his points are understood. 



The beef again, when sporting in the meadow, is not the 

 master of its own fate. 



" The pampered wanton steer of the sharp axe, 

 Regardless that o'er his devoted head 

 Hangs menacing, crops his delicious bane, 

 Nor knows the juice is life." 



It may think it is, and behave as if it thought so. But 

 other hands shape its destiny, rough-hew it as it may, and 

 the widely divergent results are such as to justify any con- 

 scientious person in hesitation before he decides to com- 

 mit the heedless bullock to the unhonoured publicity of 

 the suburban meat-stall, or to reserve it for the blue-riband 

 dignities of Smithfield in December. What does the 

 horned yearling know of Christmas or its possibilities of 

 obsequious sacrifice? It is of Christmas but not in it. 

 Pantomimes do not compete for its patronage ; the shops 

 expect no purchases of him. In all the acres of fir forest 

 robbed for Christmas trees not one is lit up for his amuse- 

 ment. No one sends him hampers of game or barrels of 

 oysters. He knows nothing of plum-puddings, snapdragon, 

 or crackers. How is he to do so? Is he not himself 

 part of the festivity, a passive actor in the bright scenes of 

 social enjoyment ? Who can have time to think of the 

 animal that gives us the beef we cat, even though his life 

 was given with it? Yet if wc do think of him why not 

 remember that he has had a life of jollity himself in order 



