Rensselaer Gazette, Volume 2, Number 43, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 16 February 1859 — THE YOUNG ENGILISHMAN. [ARTICLE]

THE YOUNG ENGILISHMAN.

[We copy the following story from a new work, “the Arabian Days’ Entertainments,” just issued, in one volume, price $1.25, by Messrs. Philips, Sampson &. Co., of Boston. Neither the title nor the commencement of the story give any intimation of the pleasant humor which prevades the whole after the secret i~ known, or of the excellent moral to b ’ drawn from it. This is but one of many others which make book and well deserve the name of Entertainments.] My Lord Sheik, in the southern part of ' Germany lies the little city of Grunwiesel, i where I was born and bred. It is small, as ! all cities are in that country. In the centre is a small market-place with a fountain, an old guildhall on one side, and round the market and the houses of justice of peace and the more influential merchants; and a couple of narrow streets hold all the rest of the inhabitants. All know each other; every one knows what happens everywhere else; and if the priest, the burgo-master, or the doctor, has anj’ additional dish on Jiis table, by dinner time it is known to the entire city. In the afternoon the ladies go to each others houses, paying visits as they call it, to talk, over fetfong coffee and sweet biscuits, about this great event; and the general conclusion arrived at is that the priest must have invested in a lotterry and won money sinfully, or the burgomaster.lyive takbn a bribe,or the doctor have received money from the apothecary on the condition of writing expensive prescriptions. You may imagine, my 1 rd sheik, how disagreeable a circumstance it must have been for so well-regulated a place as Grunwiesel, when a man arrived there* of whom nobody knew whence he came, what he wanted, or hov; he lived. The burgomaster, to be sure, had seen his passport, a paper which every one is obliged to have among us. “Is it so unsafe in your streets,” interrupted the sheik, “that, you require to have a finnan .from your ■sultan to inspire robbers with respect.’’’ No, my lord—answered the slave; these papers..are no protection against thieves,but arc made necessary by the law, which requires that it mtfst be known everywhere who is who. Noftv, the i burgomaster had examined the passport, and had declared,.at ; a coffee party at the doctor’s, that it was cerI thinly correctly vised from Berlin to Grunwiesel; but he feared there was something behind, for the man had a very suspicious look about him. The burgomaster had great authority in the city, so it is no matter of surprise that in consequence the stranger ! came to be regarded as a very doubtful char- ' acier. His mode of life did not tend to disa- | buse my countrymen of this opinion. He hired a house tor his exclusive us , put into \it a cart-load of strange looking furniture, such as furnaces, sand-baths, crucibles and ' the like, and lived hence-forward entirely alone. he even did his own cooking, and his house was entered by no human be- ; ing, except one old man of Grunwiesel, whose duty it was to buy his bread, meat, : and vegetables. Even this-person was only admitted to the lower floor, where the stran- : ger met him to receive his purchases. I was a boy of ten years of age when the ! stranger took up Iris residence in our city; and can cali to mind, as plainly as if it had ! happened but yesterday, the excitement ’.he man occasioned in the place. He ne er ■ came of art afternoon, like other people, to the bowling-green; never of an evening to I the tavern, to talk of the times over his pipe I and tobacco. In vain did the burgomaster, the justice, tlie doctor, the priest, each in his turn, invite him to dinner or tea; he invariably begged to be excused. In consequence of all this, some people regarded him as a desperado; some thought he must be a Jew; | and a third party declared with great sol- ! ernnity that he was a magician or sorcerer. I grew to be eighteen, twenty years old, and still the man was always called in the city “The Stranger.” It happened, one d y, that sortie people came to the city with a collectiotqof wild animals. The troupe which showed itself on this occasion in Grunwiesel was distinguished by the possession of a monstrous orang-outang, nearly as large as a man, which went on two legs, and knew all sorts of cunning sleights of hand. It chanced that its performance took place in front of the stranger’s house. When the drum and fife sounded, he made his appearance, at first with visible vexation, behind the dark, dustbegriimned window of his residence. Soon, however, he grew <>. >re amiable, and, opening his window, to > very body’s astonishment, looked out and laughed heartily at the orang-outang’s gambols. Nay, he paid so large a piece of silver for tm? entertainment that the whole city talked of if. The next morning the collection of aifir

mals went on their way. They had scarce- ' ly made a league on their journey, when the ■ stranger sent to the post-house, demanding, to the postmaster’s amazement, a post-chaise and horses, and set forth by the same gate and on the same road taken by the tnanagerie. The whole city was furious at not being able to learn whither he was going. It: was nig’ht when the stranger again returned ! to the gate in the post-chaise. A person, was sitting with him in the vehicle, with his ■ hat pressed closely down over his face, and his mouth.and ears bound in a silk handker-: chief. The gate-keeper considered it his' duty to speak to the second and |’ demand his passport. His answer was surly,' and growled out in some unintelligible lan- . language. “It is my nephew,” said the stranger, politely, putting several silver coins into the gate-keeper’s hand; “he understands very ■ little German. What he said just now was swearing at our being delayed here.” “Ah! if he is your nephew, sir, ’ answered the gate-keeper, “of course lie can enter without a passport. He will live in your' house, no doubt!” “Certainly,” said the stranger; ‘fand will probably remain with me a long while.” The gate-keeper made no further opposition, and the stranger and his nephew passed , into the city. The burgomaster and the 1 whole town were much displeased with the; conduct of the gate-keeper. He should at : least have ta • en notice of the nephew’s language; it would then have been an easy matter to decide to what nation he and his uncle : belonged. The gate-keeper asserted, in re-■ ply ta these complaints, that it was neither. Italian nor French, but had sounded a good’ deal like English; and, unless his ears had deceived him, the younger gentleman had! said distinctly-, “Ros-bis!” By this the gatekeeper helped himself out of bis scrape, and, al the same time, assisted the young man to ; a name, for nothing was talked of in the city ! hut the young Englishman. The young man, however, was no greater ■ frequenter of the bow ling-green or the tavern than his uncle was; but he furnished the people with much food for conversation in l another way. It happened now, not unfreqnentlv, that in the hitherto silent house] would be heard a frightful uproar and shrieking, so that the passers-by would stop before ; the house in crowds, and gaze up at the win- ’ dows. The young Englishman would be! seen dressed in a red frock and green trous-' ers, his hair erect, and his appearance indicating terror, running with great speed ■ through the rooms, from window to window, the old stranger pursuing him with a hunting- ! whip in his hand, ami often failing to over-' take him. But it sometimes seemed to the j crowd below that he had succ’feSdcd in catch- ■ ing the young man; for they could hear, issuing from the rooms above, cries of anguish I and sounds of blows. The ladies of the city took such deep concern in this cruel treatment of the youthful stranger, that they in- ' duced the burgomaster at last to take some notice cf the affair. He wrote a letter to; the strange gentleman, in which he alluded in vigorous terms to his harsh treatment of his nephew, and threatened him, in case similar scenes continued to transpire, with taking the unfortunate young n an under his especial protection. Imagine the surprise of the burgomaster I when he saw the stranger entering his doors ; for tlie only time in ten years. The old gentleman excused his conduct toward his nephew on the plea of the peculiar directions of; the parents of the young man who had entrusted him with his education. He stated that the youth was in most respects clever and intelligent, but that he learned languages with great dificulty; that he wished so earnestly to make his nephew an accomplished, German scholar, that he might afterwards take the liberty to introduce him to ! the society of Grunwiesel, and the progress made by him was~so discouraging, that on many occasions there was no better course to pursue than to beat it into him by a suitable castigation. The burgomaster expressed himself perfectly satisfied with this explanation, recommended a little more moderation in the infliction of chastisement, and reported ; in the evening at the beer-saloon, that he had rarely met, in his whole life, a better informed and more ngre-ble gentleman than J.he stranger. “The only pity is,” he added,! ■“that he goes so little into society; but I think, aa soon as his nephew can speak a little German he will visit our circle oftener.” ! . By this single incident the opinion of the city was completely changed. They regar-: di d the stranger as a well-bred man, felt a desire to cultivate hijt acquaintance, and ; considered it to be perfectly in order, when noiy and then a frightful 'shriek was heard to issue, from the—dessolate house. “He is giving his nephew n lessor) in German,” the '

Grunwieselonians said, and went on without: payinji anv further attention to the matter. ; ". . I Three months had passed by, and the tuition in German seemed to have come to a close; J but the old man went a step further. There ; lived in the city an old infirm Frenchman, ! who gave lessons in dancing to the young people. This man the stranger summoned to his house, and told him that he desired him to teach his nephew to dance. There was nothing, the Frenchman secretly declared, so wonderful in all the world as these dancing-lessons. The nephew, a : tall, slim young man, with rather short legs, ' made his appearance, he said, in a red frock, his hair nicely curled, wide trousers, and white gloves. He spoke little, and with a foreign accent, and seemed, in the beginning, rather intelligent and docile; but he frequently broke oat into the most ridiculous leaps, dancing the wildest lours, in whieh he made entre-chats which surpassed all the dancing masters he had ever seen or heard of. When it was attempted to check his extravigance, he would pull off the delicate dancing-shoes from his feet, and throw them at the Frenchman’s head, and run round on all fours. As the noise, the old gentleman would rush out of his room, in a large red bed-gown, and a cap of gold paper on his bead, and lay his whip heavily over his nephew's shoulders. Tlie nephew would at once begin to howl in the most frightful manner, springing on the table and book-cases, and even on the upper sashes of the windows, and talk all the time a strange, for- j eign language. The old gentleman would . give him no respite, but, seizing him by the ■ leg, would pull him down, beat him soundly, and draw his neck-cloth tighter round his neck by the buckle; after which the nephew would.become mannerly and sober, again,! and the dancing-lesson go on quietly to its close. These dancing-lessons very nearly killed the old Frenchman; but the dollar which he regularly received and the good wine which the old gentleman brought out. always took him back to his pupil, often as he resolved never to set. loot in the ha.teful house again. The people of Grunwiesel looked on these things very differently from the Frenchman. Thev settled in their own minds that the young gentleman possessed great talents for society; and the ladies in the place ail congratulated themselves—suffering as they did from a great lack of gentlemen—on the acquisition of so vigorous a dancer for the coming winter. One morning, the maids, retuning from market, described to their masters and mistresses a singular incident. They had seen an elegant carriage standing before the stranger's house', and a servant, in rich livery holding the step. Two gentlemen had entered the carriage, the servant sprung into the boot behind, and the.carriage—only imagine it —drove straight off to the house of the burgomaster. Everywhere people were in raptures with the two strangers, and regretted only that they had not made their acquaintance earlier. The old gentleman showed himself to be a well-bred, sensible man, who laughed a little, to be sure, in everything he said, rendering it difficult to know whether he was in jest or earnest; but who talked of the weathgr, the scenery, and the picnics to the cave in the mountain, * so politely and shrewdly that every one was delighted. But. the nephew! He bewitched every body; he won all hearts. As for his exterior, it was impossible to call him exactly handsome. The lower part of the face, especially his jaw, projected too far, and his complexion was extremely dark; while occasionally he made the most remarkable grimaces, shutting his eyes, and snapping his teeth together queerly; but people found the shape of his features exceedingly interesting. “He is an Englishman,” people said; “they are all so. We must not be too particular with an Englishman.” J’oward his old uncle he was very submissive; for whenever he began to jump too vivaciously about the room, or as he seemed particularly inclined to do, draw his feet up under him on his chair, a single stern glance from the old tnai) served to bring him to order at once. And how could one be angry with the young man, when his uncle, in every house, said to the lady, “My nephew is still a and ill-bred, madam; but I anticipate much from the mollifying effect produced by your society, and I implore your forgiveness for any gaucheries he may happen to be guilty of.” Thus was the nephew at length introduced to the gay world, and all Grunwiesel spoke ol nothing else, for the ttvo following days, but this great event. The old gentleman renounced his habits of retirement, and seemed to have wholly altered his modes of thought and life. In the afternoon ho wen!

with his nephew, to the cave in the mountain, where the more important citizens, of Grunwiesel drank beer and rolled ninepins, j Here the nephew showed himself a skilfu.ll | master of the game; for he never threw less than five or six balls. Occassiuiily a strange humor seized him. It happened more than once, that he itushed like an arrow down among the ninepins with one of the balls, making a dreadful racket,and when-he made i a spare or a ten-strike, the fancy sometimes came over him io stand erect on his nicelycurled head, and extend his legs high into the air; or, if a carriage happened to pass, before one knew what he was he would be seen sitting on the top of the ve-! hide, making the most ludicrous grimaces, ! and, after riding on a short distance, return. ! with prodigious leaps and bounds, to the party ho had quitted. The old gentleman, at such incidents as these, was wont to beg ten thousand pardons of the burgomaster and the other gentlemen, for his nephew’s eccentricities. .They, in reply, would laugh, ascribe such conduct to his youthful spirits, declared they had been Just the same in their youth, and admire the young springal, as they called him, ifnmenseJ yIn this way the nephew of the stranger came, before long, to be held in high favor in the city and environs. No one could recall ever having seen a young man like him in Grunwjesel before; and he was, indeed,, the Strangest apparition which had ever visited their borders. No one could accuse him of cultivation, of any passible kind, except, perhaps,, a little dancing. Latin and Greek were - both Greek to him. At a round game at the burgomaster’s house, it once fell to his lot to be obliged to write something, and it was found that lie could not even sign his name. In geography he made the most stupendous blunders; for he made no hesitation in locating a German city in France, or a Danish one in. Poland. He had read no- ; thing; he had studied nothing; and the priest ■ often shook his head significant!}’over the ! dreadful ignorance of the young gentleman. Still, in spite of tiiis, everything he said and i did vias held to be excellent; for he was ; impudent enough to insist always on being 'right, and the last, words of every remark he made were: “I understand this much better ! than you.” ’ » I The scenes of his great triumphs, how-! rever, were the Grunwiesel balls. Noone danced so perseveringly, none so vigorously ..s he; no one made such bold, such graceful ; jumps. His uncle dressed him for such occasions in the newest and handsomest sashI ions; and, although it was impossible to make I his clothes fit, yet everybody considered his ! dress charming. The gentlemen, to be sure, took offence, at these balls, at the new style i which he introduced. Hitherto the burgo- ! master bad always opened the bail in persoti, ■ and the most highly-born young men exerj vised the right of regulating the rest of the dances; but since the young Englishman’s ■ arrival, a total change had been brought ’ about. He would seize the prettiest girl by the hand without leave or license, take bis i , i place with her in the figure, manage every- ! tiling presisely as he pleased, and constitute ! himself, without ceremony, lord, master and king of the ball. But as the ladies found these manners extremely elegant, the young . men dared not venture on resistance, and the ! eccentric nephew retained, unopposed, his ■ self-assumed dignity and rank. Such was the behavior adopted by the nephew at balls and parties in Grunweisel. As is too often the case in other matters, bad habits come into vogue much easier than ’good ones, and a new ami striking fashion, j especially if it be ridiculous, has ever something in it highly attractive for the young, i who have not yet formed accurate or sensible judgment of themselves and the world. So it was in Grunweisel with the nephew and his extraordinary .manners. For, when the younger world perceived that the young stranger won more admiration than be incurred rebuke for bis awkward habits, his loud laughter, and his insolent answers to his seniors, and that these passed merely a s ! evidences of his spiritual nature,they thought 'to themselves: “Nothing is easier than to make myself exactly another such a spiritual brute.” They had formerly been industrious, clever youths; but now they thought : “Of what use is learning,' when ignorance carries a man so much further!” So, abandoning their books, they spent their time in dissipation on the streets. Till now, the Grunweisel young men had entertained a proper dislike to a rough and 1 v ilgar demeanor; now they sang all sorts of I vile songs, smoked huge pipes of tobacco, ! and spent much time in low pot-houses, tor j with them they resembled the young Eng- : lisliman. At home, or on a visit, they lay ! down in boots and spurs on the ottomans;

! at assemblies they tilted their chairs, or put both elbows on the table. In vain their older friends represented totfaein how foolish,how disgraceful this behavior was; they referred to the shining example of the nephew. It was said to them, in vain, that a certain degree of rudeness must be forgiven in the nephew, in consideration of hia English birth; the young Grunweiselonians declared that ! they had as good a right as the best English- | man in the world to be vulgar in a spiritual ■way. In short, it‘was a general complaint ; that gentlemanly breeding and behavior had ' been entirely eradicated from Grunwiesel by ■ the evil example of the young stranger. But the pleasure of the young men, in ! their rude and reckless life, was of short du- ! ration, for the following incident changed I the whole aspect of affairs’. A great concert was resolved upon, to close the winter amusements, to be given partly by the regular city musicians, partly by skillful amateurs of Grunwiesel. The burgomaster played the violoncello, the doctor the bassoon, with great skill, the apothecary, though he had no ear, blew the flute, several young ladies of the city had studied arias, and every preliminary had been carefully arranged. The old stranger expressed the opinion, that, though doubtless the concert would be admirable as j it was, he noticed that no duet was included lin the program'nie, and that a duet was, as ! every one knew,a necessary element of every ' concert. The opinion occasioned a good I deal of embarrassment. The burgomaster’s daughter, to be sure, sang like a nightingale; but where was the gentleman who could sing with her! They at last, of falling back on the old organist, who had . sung an excellent bass in former days; but the stranger announced that all this anxiety i was needless, for his nephew had a voice of ! surprising cultivation and power. The duet ; therefore, was studied with all haste, and tho i evening at length arrived, on which the ears ! of the people of Grunwiesel were to.be en- ! raptured by the concert. The old stranger was unable to be present at his nephe v's triumph, in consequence of illness, but he gave to the burgomaster,who ! visited him during the day, some rules for the guidance of his eccentric relative. “Ho j is a good soul,” said he; "but now and then he is seized with some strange notions, and ! breaks out into the wildest freaks. I regret, extremely, my inability to be present at the concert this evening, for his demeanor is perfectly decorous while lam by. He well knows why, the scamp! Let me assure your excellency that this vivacity of his is not a mental vice, but merely a bodily infirmity. I Whenever, therefore, any such humor seizes i him, so that lie seats himself on a musicj stand, or attempts to knock down the contrai bass, or the like, if your excellency would I take the trouble to loosen his cravat a little, t or, if nothing better can be_ done, take it off ! altogether, you will see how quiet and well- ’ bred he will at once become.” . The burgomaster thanked the sick man for his confidence, and promised, in case the I ‘ ! necessity arose, to follow his directions to ; the letter. Part first of the concert was over, and everybody was on the tenter hooks of expectation for the second, in which the young Englishman was to perform a duet with the burgomaster’s daughter. The nephew had male his appearance' in gorgeous costume, and had long ago drawn upon himself the attention of all present. He had thrown himself down, without the slightest ceremony. in the elegant arm-chair provided for & countess of the vicinity, and, stretching hi* legs to their full length, had stared the audiance out of countence through a huge operaglass which he .had provided in addition to ! his ordinary spectacles; playing incessantly, meanwhile, with a large mastiff’ which he had in introducing in spite of the ' regulations prohibiting all such animalsi The countess, for whom the arm-chair had been provided, soon appeared; but the young i Englishman made no movement’to resign | his seat. On the contrary, he only assumed i a more attitude, and no one ! present ventured to rebuke his insolence. I The distinguished- lady was consequently ! obliged to take her seat in an ordinary cane i chair among the other ladies of the city, in a state of intense and natural indignation. No wonder, therefore, that everybody was i curious to see how he would succeed with his duet. The second part began; the city musicians played the introductory bars, and now the burgomaster led up his daughter to the young Englishman, and, handing him a sheet of music, said to him, “My dear sir, are you disposed to begin the duet!” The stranger laughed, showed his teeth, and, springing up, proceeded the two others to the music-stand, while th i audience was filled with excitement and anticipation. The organ : st beat the time, and nodded to the Englishman to begin. The latter looked at the music through Ijis spectacles a moment, and gar* i utterance to some hideous and melancholy howls; whereupon, the organist shouted to him: “Two notes lower, your honor; C—yoq must sing C.” Instead of singing C, the stranger pulled off one of his shoes and flung it at thi organist’s head, making the powder fly in clouds. Seeing this, the burgomaster thought to himself: “Ha! his bodily infirmity has got hold of him again;’’ and, seizing him by the neek, he loosened the buckle of his cravat. But, at this, the young man’s conduct became only the more outrageous. He dropped the

use of German, and confined himself to an extraordinary and unintelligible language, taking all the while the most tremendous l«apa. The burgomaster Was in dlspair at thia unpleasant interruption to the entertainment, and instantly resolved to take off entirely the crsVat of the young Englishman, whom lome unusually violent paroxysm must have suddenly seized. But no sooner had he done this, than he started back aghast. Instead of a human skin and complexion, a dark brown fur enveloped the neck of the ; youthful stranger, who instantly proceeded ’ Upon still higher and more marvellous leaps ; ; and twisting his white gloves into his hair, he pulled it entirely off, and. wonder.of wonders! this beantiful hair was only a wig, which he threw into the burgpmastcr’s face, and his head made its appearance clothed in the same brown fur as his neck. , He overturned tables and benches, threw i down music-stands, smashed the fiddles and ;Bnq clarinets, and in short behaved like a ' lunatic. “Seize him! seize him!” shouted,' the burgomaster, beside himself; “he is ra- ! ring; seize him!” This, however, was as difficult matter, for he puliad off his gloves I and showed his brown hands, armed With ' frightful nails, with which he assulted the ! faces of the company. A courageous hunts- j man at length succeeded in taking him pr’is- ' oner. He pressed his long arms down to his : sidps, bo that he could do nothing except struggle fiercely with his feet, and laugh and shriek in a piercing voice. The audi•ence gathered around to look at the eccentric young gentleman, who by this time had ; lost every semblerice of a human being. ■ Among them, a learned gentleman of the environs, who 'possessed a large collection of stuffed animals, approached him and, as- ' ter a close examination, suddenly exclaimed, ■ “Good God! ladies and gentlemen, why dp you admit this this beast into good society’ This is an ape, the homo triglodites Linnari, ; and! will give you six dollars for him, if you j like, and stuff him for my cabinet.” Fancy the astonishment of the citizens of; Grunwiesel, when they heard this. “What! > an ape, an orang- outang in our best society! The young Englishman nothing but a ' filthy ape!‘” They stared at each other in ' dumb bewilderment. They could not believe it; they would not trust their eyes, and they examined the animal more narrowly; but, gaze as they pleasib. a vulgar ape he was, and a vulgar ape he remained. “It must be sorcery, devilish sorcery!” said the burgomaster, bringing the ape’s cravat. “Look! here in this cravat lies the i witchcraft which has blinded our eyes. Here is a broad strip of parchment, inscribed with strang characters. It is Latin, I believe; can any one read it!” The pastor, a man of extensive learning, who had often lost a game of chess to the ■ young Englishman, stepped up, and, looking at the parchment said; “Certainly, this is I Latin, and means: ‘This ape is a very ridieulon-s creature, And to see through arid shun false pretensions will teach you.’ | . “Ay, ay; it is an infernal swindle; in it- j self a.species of witchcraft,” be continued’; “and should meet with exemplary punish- i ment.” The burgomaster was of the same opin- ‘ ion, and started forthwith to arrest the stranger, who could be nothing but a magician. Six soldiers carried the ape, for they were determined to bring the eld sceundrel to instant trial. They reached the desolate house, followed ! by a crowd of people, for every one wanted to see how the affair would end. They ‘knocked at the door, th y pulled the bell; but all in vain—no one showed himself in answer to their .appeals. The burgomaster finally caused the door to be beaten in, and mounted to the sick Tnan’s chamber. Nothing was to be seen but old, worthless household rubbish. The stranger had vanished. On his writing table, however, lay a large, sealed letter, addressed to the burgomaster, which the latter opened. He read: “My dear Grunwieselonians: When you read this I shall be no longer in your village, and you will discover the rank and nation of my nephew. Take the joke which I have ventured to play upon you as a good lesson not to insist on inflictingyour society upon a stranger who wishes to live in retirement I felt myself too well-bred to be involved in your eternal tattle,your bad manners anil your ridiculous customs. I procured therefore, the voung orang-outang, which you have caressed so affectionately, to act as mjrsubstitute. Farewell, my friends, and lay this lesson to heart.” The citizens of GrunweiseL were the laughing stock of the whole country, and felt intensely mortified. Their consolation was, that all this must have been brought about by suppernatural means. But the greatest confusion was felt by the young men of the ®ity, for they had made the bad manners of • beastly ape the object of their approval and imitation. Henceforth they ceased to lean their elbows on the table; they balanced themselves no longer on their chairs - they were silent till addressed, and became modest and civil as of,old; and it became a byword with the Grunwieselonians, when any 9,ne showed signs of relapsing into such vulgar and ridiculous practices, to call him “the pld gentleman's a pg,” The orang-outang, who hid played so long the part of a gentlppiau of fashion, was hanover to the proprietor of s h“ cabinet of

■ natural history. This gentleman feeds him, i gives him the run of his yard, and shows him ! to every stranger as a rarity; and there he i is to the present day.