The Sun.
London, England, 1844-10-01 00:00:00

BENTLEY'S MISCELLANY.

We received this Magazine at so late an hour
yesterday, that we are compelled to be brief in our
notice of it. The Number seems to be a very fair
one, though we has e but cursorily glanced at its
contents, and cannot therefore speak with positive.
ness. Mr. Smith resumes his " Fortunes of the
Scattergood Fa'nily," and furnishes us with a whim-
sical sketch of Mr. Glenalvon Fogg—a minor actor
of first-rate ability in his own opinion. " A Few
Pages from My Journal, in Greece, Turkey," &c.,
are from the pen of Mr. Fynes Clinton. The author
gives a spirited description of his voyage down the
Danube, and alluding to the present Sultan, whom
he saw at Constantinople, pourtrays him " as a pale
and ill-looking youth, without a spark of intelligence
in hie face." " Miss Pif kin's Benefit" is an agree-
able prose sketch by the author of "Richard Savage."
" Sketches of Legendary Cities" gives some legends
and historical reminiscences connected with the cu-
rious old city of Chester. The " Two Fortune
Hunters of Galway" contains one or two diverting
incidents ; but the story halts in places, and, as a
whole, is much too long. A little judicious abridg-
ment would have greatly improved it. " Smoking
Robin" is chiefly deserving of notice as forming the
subject of an excellent illustration from the pencil of
Leech, who has grouped his characters with singular
ease and freedom. In his " Physiology of London
Life" Mr. Murray gives several animated descrip-
tions of the various tea-gardens in the immediate
vicinity of the metropolis ; but we prefer quoting his
account of the death of a waggon horse in the streets,
and his conveyance to a knacker's yard :
" Crack—crack—crack—into his flanks goes the whip-
cord with right good will—he brinks up a bit—now he
stumbles again—crack—crack—he goes on his knees—
he is whipped on his feet—he falls over on his side—he
never gets up again. Crack—crack—Oh ! very well—
whip away till you are black in the face—the poor ani-
mal's time is up—his slavery is over—he will never drag
wain more. The mob comes up, as usual, through the
chinks of the stones, or else drops down from the sky ;
but there it is, talking, shouting, giving advice, loosen-
ing the traces,, dragging away the waggon shafts from
poor old Dobbin, whose glazing eye, and short, heaving
breath, shows that his heart is broken. The whip—
that universal horse medicine, is applied to head, withers,
an:11 flank ; but it won't do ; Dobbin merely lifts his
head, as he would any. let the die in peace, winces under
the lash, and :.."vs himself down again.
4, The knacker is ,!'ent for. Dobbin cannot be
horse and a killed horse
per-
mitted to die in peace—a (:::.4114
are two different things in the cat's-meat market—the
knacker's cart arrives in double quick--the mob admires
the cart, the royal arms, and the /14401010 n, :Knacker
to her Majesty. The royal knacker—L-a_ swellknacker
in cords and tops, with a bit of abuther's apron, kis as
big as a bishop's—merely to distinguish his profession—
pole-axe in had, descends from his vehicle ; the de•
lighted mob closes in, eager to witness the scientific
operation. The pole-axe is driven at one blow through
the frontal bone of the expiring animal ; a willow wand,
finger thick, is pushed into the hole, and twisted about
in the brain-pan with great dexterity ; the animal is
fearfully convulsed, writhing in the most intense agony
—the mob is quite in raptures at every kick of one brute
and twist of the other—fainter and fainter become the
death-struggles of Dobbin—another turn or two, as a
finisher—he is dead. Now a chain is fastened to the
dead horse's neck, and made fast at the other end to a
windlass, with rack and pinion fixed between the shafts
of the knaclyr's vehicle; this is tilted up, and Dobbin
slowly ascends, amid t4e facetious remarks and jocose
sallies of the gratified spectators. Sarengers,' exclaims

one fellow—(A laugh)—' Real Epping,' shouts another
—(Laughter) 'Monies,' shrieks a third (Much
laughter)—' Small Germans," Leg of beef,' Kidney
puddins.' and a profusion of other allusions to the pro-
bable esculent qualities of the respected deceased. A
few extempore fights, got up by rival pot-boys, diversify
the entertainment ; the royal knacker disappears, the
mob maketh itself air, into which it vanisheth,' and you
walk off, greatly pleased with the extreme sensibility
and innate dislike of anything like cruelty, which so emi-
nently distinguishes the true-born cockney."