CHAP. I.] DISLIKES CKUELTY TO DUMB CREATURES. 7 



so dexterously in and out among the glass, that it never broke 

 one or even knocked a wine-glass down, but would stop at the 

 plate of each person present until it received a piece of fruit, 

 after eating which it would continue its walk around the table, 

 allowing everyone to pet and caress it. 



This rabbit was specially fond of my father, and he of it, 

 and great was the grief in the family when Bunny at last died of 

 old age. He kept pet hedgehogs and tortoises, and a pet Guernsey 

 lizard, which would partake *as a bonne louche of a dish of black 

 beetles for breakfast. He had also at one time a pet toad, which 

 was caught by my father during one of his walks in the wood 

 which formerly existed on the spot where the Crystal Palace 

 now stands. This toad was quite a baby when he first became 

 possessed of it, but it throve so thoroughly upon black beetles, 

 that in due course of time it became a full-grown toad, and lived 

 many years. My father took a great liking to this toad, and 

 was wont, whenever a friend dined with him, to show, as soon as 

 the cloth was removed, to the astonished guest the wonderful 

 powers which this creature possessed of seeing, and its rapidity 

 and unerring seizure of its prey. The unfortunate toad at last 

 met with an untimely death, through a quarrel arising with the 

 Guernsey lizard over one delicious black beetle. The toad re- 

 ceived a blow on the head from the lizard which paralysed it. 

 It lingered some time, but ultimately died from its effects. He 

 kept besides pet mice and even a pet rat. The latter's favourite 

 place was in a person's pocket, where he would remain for a long 

 while quite still and comfortable. When he was tired of that 

 locality, he would walk out and sit upon the shoulder, and nestle 

 to a person's neck. In this manner this rat used to frequently 

 perform little journeys through the streets of London ; but I am 

 bound to say my father never took him out. The very goldfish 

 knew my father's voice, and when he whistled to them would 

 come up from amongst the various water-plants which were kept 

 in a large tank in the greenhouse at the end of the garden of 

 Finsbury Circus, and take the food from his fingers. Others 

 might whistle to them, but the goldfish took no notice (though 

 it might even be at feeding time) of any other voice but that 

 of my father. 



Mr. Smee ever abhorred cruelty to animals, especially when it 

 was occasioned through wanton wilfulness. But, on the other 

 hand, he considered that there are times when animals must 

 suffer for the weal of man ; then morbid sentimentality ought 



