LINES,
On seeing in the Table Book the Signature
of a brother, W. W. K.
Where’er those well-known characters I see,
They are, and ever will be, dear to me!
How oft in that green field, beneath the shade
Of beechen-boughs, whilst other youngsters play’d,
Have I, a happy schoolboy, o’er and o’er,
Conn’d those dear signs, which now I read once more!
How oft, as on the daisied grass I laid,
Full pleas’d, the W. W. K. I’ve read!—
When once espied, how tedious ’twas to wait
The crippled postman’s well-known shuffling gait,
As, slowly creeping down the winding lane,
With such a sluggish pace he onward came;
Or if in school,—his ring no sooner heard,
Than home, with all its sweets, to mind recurr’d;
And whilst the letter’s page its news reveal’d,
The gath’ring drop my boyish sight conceal’d!
Something then whisper’d, Bill, that life begun
So well, the same still happily would run;
That tho’ for years the briny sea divide,
Or be it good, or ill, that each betide,
The same fond heart would throb in either’s breast,
Fondness by years and stealing time increas’d!
So, as in early days it first became,
Shall it in riper life, be still the same,
That by and by, when we’re together laid
’Neath the green moss-grown pile—it may be said,
As lonely footsteps tow’rds our hillock turn,
“They were in life and death together one!”
DOVER PIG.
To the Editor.
Sir,—To the fact of the underwritten narrative there are many living witnesses of high respectability. Anatomists and philosophers may not think it unworthy their notice, and the lovers of the marvellous will doubtless be interested by a subject which assimilates with the taste of all.
On the 14th of December, 1810, several considerable falls of the cliffs, both east and westward of Dover, took place; and one of these was attended by a fatal domestic catastrophe. A house, situated at the base of that part of the cliffs between Moat’s Bulwark and where the Dover Gas Company’s works are built, was buried, with its inmates, consisting of the father, mother, and five of their children, and a sister’s child. The father only was dug from the ruins alive. All his family perished with the ruin of his household property.
Behind the house, which stood just clear of the cliffs’ base, in an excavation, was a pig-sty; which, when the cliff fell, was inhabited by a solitary and very fat hog, supposed to weigh about eight score. In the midst of his distress, the unfortunate owner of the quadruped forgot this animal; and when it occurred to his recollection, so much time had passed since the accident, that the pig was numbered with the dead. In the ensuing summer, on the evening of the 23d of May, some workmen of the Ordnance department, going home from labour, stopped, as they had sometimes done before, to contemplate the yet remaining ruin. While thus engaged, a sound broke the silence of the moment. It seemed like the feeble grunting of a hog. The men listened, and the sound was repeated, till it ceased to be matter of doubt. One of them immediately went to the commanding officer of the Ordnance, and returned with a party of the miners, who set to work; and as soon as they had cleared away the chalk from before the chasm, the incarcerated animal came staggering forth, more like the anatomy of a pig than a living one. Its skin was covered with a long shaggy coat: the iris had disappeared from its eyes; and the pupils were pale, and had almost lost their colour. Nothing beyond these particulars was apparent externally. With great attention to its feeding, the creature recovered from its debility, and its coat fell off, and was renewed as before. When I saw this hog in the following November, the eyes were of a yellowish tint, and the iris only discoverable by a faint line round the pupil; no defect showed itself in the vision of the organ: and, but for being told that the pig before me was the one buried alive for six months, there was nothing about it to excite curiosity. To the owner it had been a source of great profit, by its exhibition, during the summer season, at the neighbouring towns and watering-places; and, finally, it ended its existence in the way usual to its race, through the hands of the butcher.
I have stated the supposed weight of this long-buried quadruped at the time of its incarceration, to be about eight score, or twenty stone; when liberated, it was weighed, and had lost half of its former quantity, being then four score. A peculiar character of the pig is—its indiscriminate gluttony and rapid digestion. The means by which the life of this particular animal was sustained during the long period of its imprisonment, may be worth the consideration of the zootomist.