As, after all this, many may like to see my four sonnets before-mentioned, I have no room to place here more than one: it is fair to state that they are easily procurable for a penny at the S.P.C.A.

office in Jermyn Street.

They were written by me in the train between Hereford and London, at the request of a lady, the chatelaine of Pontrilas Court, for a bazaar at Brighton.
"If ever thou hast loved thy dog or horse, Or other favourite affectionate thing, If thou dost recognise in God the source Of all that live, their Father and their King, Stand with us on this rescue;--for the force Of sciolists hath legal right to seize Such innocents to torture as they please, Alive and sentient, with demoniac skill; Ungodly men! hot with the lawless lust Of violating Nature's holiest fane, Breaking it open at your wicked will,-- Yet shall ye tremble!--for the Judge is just; To Him those victims do not plead in vain, On you for aeons crowd their hours of pain." When I was last at Boston my spirit was stirred by what I have poetised below: it has only appeared in some American papers, but I hope will be acceptable here.
_The Omnibus Hack._ "Worn, jaded, and faint, plodding on in the track, I praise your great patience, poor omnibus hack; In whose sad gentle eyes my spirit can trace The gloom of despair in that passionless face, While way-wearied muscles, strain'd out to the full And cruelly check'd by the pitiless pull, With little for food, but of lashes no lack, Force me to pray for you, omnibus hack! "Yes I--if I can pity you, omnibus hack, For nerves all atremble and sinews awrack, How should not his Maker, the Father above, Be just to His creature, and grant him His love?
Why may not His mercy give somewhat of bliss In some better world to compensate for this, By animal pleasure for animal pain, Receiving their lives but to give them again?
"And which of us isn't an omnibus hack, With galls on his withers and sores on his back,-- Buckled to circumstance, driven by fate, And chain'd on the pole of a oar that we hate-- Yon ponderous Past which we drag fast or slow On the coarse-mended Present, this dull road we go, Hard-curb'd on the tongue and no bearing-rein slack, Ah! who of us isn't that omnibus hack?
"Yet great is the comfort considering thus That God doth take thought as for him so for us; That we shall find rest, reward, and relief Outweighing, outpaying all pain and all grief; That all things are kindly remembered elsewhere, The shame and the wrong and the press and the care, The evils that keep all better aback, And make one feel now but an omnibus hack.
"An omnibus hack ?--and only a drudge ?-- Is Duty no more in the eyes of the Judge?
He set thee this toil; His providence gave These bounds to His freedman; yes, free--not a slave! And if thou wilt serve Him, content with thy lot, Cheerfully working and murmuring not, Be sure, my poor brother--whose skies are so black-- Thou art His dear child, though an omnibus hack!" My "Mercy to Animals," a simple handbill, has done great good, as it has prose instructions about loading, harnessing, &c.

It also is to be had for a penny at Jermyn Street aforesaid: here is the first verse:-- "O boys and men of British mould, With mother's milk within you! A simple word for young and old, A word to warn and win you; You've each and all got human hearts, As well as human features, So hear me, while I take the parts Of all the poor dumb creatures." For my own part I have done it all my life.

Those of my book-friends who have my Miscellaneous Poems may refer in this connection to verses therein on "A Dead Dog" and "A Dead Cat," and to those on "Cruelty." Also in "Proverbial Philosophy," especially as to the "Future of Animals," and their too shameful treatment in this world, one good reason for a compensative existence..