Joseph Sturge, when a boy, and the Pigs.
When Joseph Sturge, that good Quaker, was in his sixth year, his biographer, Henry Richard,[214] records that he was on a visit to a friend of his mother's at Frenchay, near Bristol. Sauntering about one day, he came near the house of an eccentric man, a Quaker, who was much annoyed by the depredations of his neighbour's pigs. Half in jest, and half in earnest, he told the lad to drive the pigs into a pond close by. Joseph, nothing loath, set to work with a will, delighted with the fun. The woman, to whom the pigs belonged, came out presently, broom in hand, flourishing it over the young sinner's head. The tempter was standing by, and sought to cover his share of the transaction by shaking his head and saying—"Ah,
'Satan finds some mischief still
For idle hands to do.'
The child looked up at him indignantly, and said, 'Thee bee'st Satan then, for thee told'st me to do it.'"
HORSE.
The noblest animal employed by man, and consequently the subject of many volumes of anecdote,—a study for the painter and sculptor, from the days of the Greek and Assyrian artists to the present day. Charles Darwin and Sir Francis Head have given graphic descriptions of the catching of the wild horse, which swarms on the Pampas of South America.
How pathetic to see the led horse following the bier of a soldier! It was, perhaps, the most affecting incident in the long array of the funeral of the great Duke.
In the Museum at Brussels, Dr Patrick Neill observed, in 1817, "the stuffed skin of the horse belonging to one of the Alberts, who governed the Low Countries in the time of the Spaniards. It was shot under him in the field, and the holes made in the thorax by the musket bullets are still very evident."[215]
Poor Copenhagen, the Duke's charger at Waterloo, was buried. Many would have liked his skin or skeleton. The Duke resisted all attempts to give his old friend up for such a purpose. We hope no resurrectionist succeeded in getting up his bones, years after his burial at Strathfieldsaye.