To whom am I to look for redress, when I know not to whom the ruthless creatures belong?—Creatures that wander far and wide in search of food; that gain their precarious subsistence by plunder and rapine; and are intensely hostile to the labours and improvements of civilization. No wonder the poet looked upon them as hell-born, and called them a pest and a curse to society:—
"———nec saevior ulla Pestis et ira Deuim Stygiis sese extulit undis."
I had made these reflections, and received a good deal of comfort from them, when Hannibal appeared at the door with a pallid countenance.
"Two of them, Sir, are done for; one's a big un—eight pounds, if he weighs an 'unce. He's a handsome feller, that un; black feathers, and spurs to his heels six inches long. They'll make a houtcry about him, I expect."
"What have you done with the carcases?"
"Dragged 'em behind the bushes. 'Tan't legal to lift the bodies."
"Go on with your work, Hannibal, and don't appear at all fluttered or discomposed. Look as if nothing had happened. If any one calls, I am not at home."
An outcry was raised about the death of the dragon. He was the favourite of a young lady who was a pet of her papa's—(next to dragons, children are the most horrid nuisances).—An accursed dog (the D—-l take all dogs! say I,) had found the body, and dragged it into the street, where it was recognised by the girl. The papa, furious at the sight of the favourite's tears, roamed and raged about the town in search of witnesses. Men of Belial are always to be found, especially in a colony, and Hannibal was openly accused of the murder.
The whole town was in a state of excitement. People seemed to think that a blow had been struck at the very roots of civil and religious liberty; and as every one had his favourite dragon, every one felt alarmed for its safety so long as Hannibal remained unpunished.
The ladies were especially bitter in their remarks and innuendoes.