Page:The Strand Magazine (Volume 16).djvu/613

'country cousin"―who else but one of that ilk would carry a spotted carpet-bag in the Strand?―is anxious to reach Charing Cross, and we see him on the point of being misguided into a 'bus, which is ostentatiously labelled "Bank." Why do not these things happen now? Are we to suppose that the race of country cousins has died out, or that they have unanimously resolved that London is no place for them, or can it really be that 'bus-conductors have learnt to tell the truth?

"The Wild Horse" is a drawing of a more ambitious character; in the former picture the artist appears to have thought that, as the 'bus-horse is not an essential part of the tragedy, and is moreover a quadruped whose proportions are exceedingly difficult to represent, it would be justifiable to omit it. Here he has not only given us a horse, but a horse in such a position as must have taxed his powers to the utmost extent―indeed, one is inclined to wonder which had the harder task to perform: the artist who drew the attitude, or the horse which assumed it! One cannot but admire the air of stolid calm which rests upon the countenance of the dealer, although the infuriated beast is obviously elongating its right foreleg with the intention of kicking him severely in the chest.

It is a curious fact that though so many different sorts of animals figure in Lewis Carroll's books, and even play more or less important rôles, as the white rabbit in "Alice's Adventures," yet he never seemed to care about animals himself. He hated, indeed, to see them ill-treated in any way, and would go out of his way to relieve their distress when he could, while the preface to "Sylvie and Bruno" contains an emphatic denunciation of "sport" when it involves suffering to animals. But he never kept pets of any sort, and very much resented it if any of his friends kept that unpleasant species of dog which makes a point of barking at everyone who comes up to the house. Even as a child, he did not care much about the rabbits and chickens and other such creatures which his brothers and sisters were so fond of. It must be recorded, however, that in very early youth the charms of snails and earthworms proved too much for him, and he used to try to add to their "joy of living" by providing them with sticks to fight with "if so dispoged!" But he soon overcame any such amiable weaknesses, and used, as we shall see, to make fun of the other members of the family about their pets.

Somewhere about the year 1845 he felt the first stirrings of literary ambition, and started a magazine called "Useful and Instructive Poetry." Of this periodical―it has unfortunately been lost―he was the editor and contributor-in-chief; its circulation was limited by the walls of Croft Rectory, and it died an untimely death after a life of only six months. It was followed by a host of equally short-lived ventures, in the following order: "The Rectory Magazine," "The Comet," "The Rosebud," "The Star," "The Will-o'-the Wisp," and "The Rectory