food, died with intermitting sighs and howling sorrow. The dog of Woollett, the engraver, died nearly a similar death. The following plate exhibits Stuart's pupil, George Dyball, a fellow of considerable notoriety. He sometimes dresses as a sailor, in nankeen waistcoat and trousers; but George, like his master, never was a seaman. Stuart taught him to maund, by allowing him to kneel at a respectful distance, and repeat his supplications. Dyball was remarkable for his leader, Nelson, whose tricks displayed in an extraordinary degree the sagacity and docility of the canine race. This dog would, at a word from his master, lead him to any part of the town he wished to traverse, and at so quick a pace, that both animals have been observed to get on much faster than any other streetwalkers. His business was to make a response to his master's "_Pray pity the Blind_" by an impressive whine, accompanied with uplifted eyes and an importunate turn of the head; and when his eyes have not caught those of the spectators, he has been seen to rub the tin box against their knees, to enforce his solicitations. When money was thrown into the box, he immediately put it down, took out the contents with his mouth, and, joyfully wagging his tail, carried them to his master. After this, for a moment or two, he would venture to smell about the spot; but as soon as his master uttered "_Come, Sir_," off he would go, to the extent of his string, with his tail between his legs, apprehensive of the effects of his master's corrective switch. This animal was presented to Dyball by Joseph Symmonds, the blind fiddler, who received him of James Garland, another blind beggar, who had taught him his tricks. Unfortunately for Dyball, this treasure has lately been stolen from him, as is supposed by some itinerant player, and he is now obliged to depend on a dog of inferior qualifications, though George has declared him to "_Shew very pretty for tricks_." This custom of teaching dogs to beg with cans in their mouths is not new. A few years since, there was such an animal in a booth at Bartholomew Fair, who made his supplications in favour of an Italian rope-dancer. The practice is indeed very ancient, as appears in a truly curious illuminated copy of the Speculum Humanæ Salvationis, written in the early part of the fifteenth century, in the possession of a friend of the author. [Illustration: PLATE I. George Dyball, a blind beggar of considerable notoriety, and his dog Nelson.] The next plate is of a beggar well known at fairs near the Metropolis. He is certainly blind, and perhaps one of the most cunning and witty of his tribe; for in order that his blindness may be manifest, he literally throws up his eyeballs, as if desirous of exemplifying the following lines in Hudibras:-- "As men of inward light are wont To turn their optics in upon't."