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Having removed him, preparation was made for other diversions. An upright pole, and horizontal whirligig, having four such horses on its four ends as are to be seen revolving, at the rate of a penny the ride, in all English fairs, from St. Bartholomew to Weyhill, was fixed in the centre of the arena. The sorry straw-stuffed canvass horses were fixed firmly in their sockets; four of the blacks mounted, and the remaining two whirled them into motion. The dry tails and manes streamed out with centrifugal force, the blacks leaned inwards, and rose in their stirrups to an imaginary trot; the bull capered out, and without preface, sound, or hesitation, galloped vehemently at the stuffed roundabout, gored the bowels of the nearest horse, rent the canvass, tore out the straw, and spilt the rider among the feet of the twisters. The others turned their near legs into safety, and merely laughed at the exertions of the bull. With his horns entangled in the canvass and straw-stuffing it was not without difficulty that he freed himself for a tussle with the next. He succeeded at last, upset the Negro, spurned him most ludicrously, until, as matters became rather

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serious, the six once more retreated to the alley, leaving the bull to twist round the whirl-about at his leisure. Having, however, soon discovered the difference between dead straw and live flesh, he left the whirligig and took a turn through the eircus.

The sun was now getting low, and the day's amusement being nearly at an end, the populace were allowed to do as they pleased with this last of the twenty bulls which had been tormented and baited for the afternoon's sport; and accordingly, at some signal that I did not see, two hundred of the scum of Lisbon leapt into the circus, and were scouring and retreating through the arena after the bellowing animal.

The single bull, in the midst of the breathless scuffling crowd of dusty ragamuffins which nearly filled the arena, with tail erect and head to the ground, swept round the ring, overturning in his course all who were too slow or too hurried to get out of the way. One lad of eighteen, with a persevering bull-dog pluck, seldom met with or expected in a man, ran straight at the head of the powerful animal, seized him by the horns, and actually permitted himself to be shaken and

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twisted to and fro, and finally to be thrown into the air, twenty feet above his head, as if he were nothing more than a stuffed man of sailcloth and straw. In the midst of shouts and plaudits, he repeated his feat three several times, and at length held on so firmly that others were encouraged to join him; the crowd rushed in, lugged the animal from side to side, cruelly twisting his tail, and pricking him with the darts; and concluded by leading him off to his stall, amidst a herd of cows that had been driven into the ring to pacify his rage.

Thus ended the Lisbon bull-fight. The ring was erected by Don Miguel, for his own and his people's amusement, at the beginning of his reign; and I was informed, that of the many low tastes, for which he is notorious at Lisbon, a love for fighting the bull with his own hands was, perhaps, the least objectionable. Fatal accidents, I hear, rarely happen; and, as the bulls' horns are cased with leather, and tipped with a padded ball, the horses are not gored and ripped open in the frightful way described in the rings at Grenada and Madrid; in short, there is nearly the same difference between a bull-fight in

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Lisbon and a bull-fight at Madrid, as there would be between a regular prize-fight in England and sparring with the gloves; or between an extemporary contest at the barn-door and a battle between clipped and nearly featherless game-cocks, in glittering steel spurs, at the late Lord Asterisk's, or the present Hampshire mains.

CHAPTER XVI.

There is a land of every land the pride,
Beloved by heaven o'er all the world beside;
Where brighter suns dispense serener light,
And milder moons emparadise the night;
A land of beauty, virtue, valour, truth,
Time-tutored age, and love-exalted youth,
There is a spot of earth supremely blest,
A dearer, sweeter spot than all the rest.

Where shall that land, that spot of earth be found?
Art thou a man ?—a patriot ?—look around:
O thou shalt find, howe'er thy footsteps roam,

That land thy country, and that spot thy home.
MONTGOMERY.

Voyage to England.-Portuguese physiognomy.-Vigo.-Spa

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MONDAY, August 12.-Left Lisbon by a steamboat for England. One of the passengers is a

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