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 to enjoy a curious sight, you must watch die Toadeys, when they are unembarrased by the almost perpetual presence of their breeders—when they are animated by "the spirit of of freedom;" when, like Curran's Negro, the chain bursts by the impulse of their swelling veins. The great singularity is the struggle between their natural and their acquired feelings: the eager opportunity which they seize of revenging their voluntary bondage, by their secret taunts on their adopted task-masters; and the servility, which they habitually mix up, even with their scandal. Like veritable Grimalkins, they fawn upon their victims previous to the festival—compliment them upon the lengths of their wiskers, and the delicacy of their limbs, prior to excoriating them, and dwelling on the flavour of their crashed bones. Oh! 'tis a beautiful scene, and ten thousand times more piquant than the humors of a Servants' Hall, or the