In such a mind, I repeat, what a host of recollections are stirred
up by a trifle! The dogs danced! I- I could not! They frisked- I wept.
They capered- I sobbed aloud. Touching circumstances! which cannot
fail to bring to the recollection of the classical reader that
exquisite passage in relation to the fitness of things, which is to be
found in the commencement of the third volume of that admirable and
venerable Chinese novel the Jo-Go-Slow.
In my solitary walk through, the city I had two humble but
faithful companions. Diana, my poodle! sweetest of creatures! She
had a quantity of hair over her one eye, and a blue ribband tied
fashionably around her neck. Diana was not more than five inches in
height, but her head was somewhat bigger than her body, and her tail
being cut off exceedingly close, gave an air of injured innocence to
the interesting animal which rendered her a favorite with all.
And Pompey, my negro!- sweet Pompey! how shall I ever forget thee? I
had taken Pompey's arm. He was three feet in height (I like to be
particular) and about seventy, or perhaps eighty, years of age. He had
bow-legs and was corpulent. His mouth should not be called small,
nor his ears short. His teeth, however, were like pearl, and his large
full eyes were deliciously white. Nature had endowed him with no neck,
and had placed his ankles (as usual with that race) in the middle of
the upper portion of the feet.
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