60 
MEMOIR OF THOMAS BEWlcK. 
preacher, by his clerical attitude you might take 
him for a very parson. — Cast your eye on the 
gipsies and then- hear ; are not thief and harlot 
marked in their physiognomies ? That first fellow’s 
coat is too big for him, a world too wide ; he has 
stolen it — Look with luxury on the light and 
buoyant cutter, dancing on the dashing waves, in 
pursuit of the heavy smuggler, straining and creaking 
in the breeze, laboriously making off in the misty 
moonlight. — The lame man has left his crutch be- 
hind, having mounted the back of the blind, who 
has let go his dog : hasty attachments imagine 
friendship eternal. — That poor spaniel bitch has 
been howling all night, and has just broken her 
string, and found her drowned puppies : look at her 
sudden pause and sorrow ! — Ay, friend Bewick, 
many a lobster handles a pencil, and piddles on a 
set palette. — Do stop your ears at opening to the two 
fiddlers, with their jangling discordant scrapings. — 
I truly pity their hearts who hear not the howling 
of that scalded dog who has overturned the pot ; 
and the cackling of that hen who has just been 
laying Oh ! what a feast of diverting and instruc- 
tive amusement for an idle summer’s day, or a long 
winter’s night ! What a rich and exhaustless suc- 
cession of grotesque figures, funny groups, comical 
scenes, pithy inscriptions, delicious landscapes, vil- 
lage farmsteads, rocky caverns, tufts of fern, river 
glens and cascades, quiet pools and sedgy knolls, 
lovely trees and woody dells, towns and towers, 
ivied ruins, sea-side views, with sermons in every 
