Although there is something supremely ridiculous in all the fuss with which I set out to reform society, when one considers the result, I claim the privilege of pointing out that my scheme is none the less sound and good because it has failed. I am not converted. Society is not ripe for such a measure of reform. I have pleaded, solicited, preached—to deaf ears—and urged the adoption of my views; the males listened and shrugged their shoulders, the females refused to listen and shrugged their shoulders, and in order to continue the struggle single-handed, I should require a stock of patience with which nature has not seen fit to endow me. Above all, I am lame, and to undertake—no matter what in this world—even to promote a good cause, one must begin with personal attractions that will appeal to the eye. A lame Swallow has therefore not much chance of success in this fast age. The spring will again find me in Paris, when I shall present my little companion, who I am sure will please you, notwithstanding her gaiety. She may even seem to you giddy. All I can say is, she is genuine and good-hearted. I must tell you she fell in love the other day with a young fop, with whom she would have decamped had I not caught her in time to arrest her fate. I gave her a page or two of my own early experience, which produced a deep and, let us hope, lasting impression. She wants looking after, guiding, and controlling. Yet why should I speak thus in opposition to my doctrine of freedom for the female sex, and lay my plans for her guidance? Can it be that my principles are gradually changing? It cannot be! Soon you will see me, my friend, sad but submissive, having found the world bad, and being unwilling to force it to become better. You will find me, as you would say, disenchanted—as I would say, reasonable, although, to tell the truth, the two expressions may mean one and the same thing. I have travelled far in search of that wisdom which I might have {343} obtained without going out of my way. In my narrow view of life I had only been willing to notice the shortcomings of what is, and the advantages of what is not. These advantages are still manifest, so also is the danger of any change, even though it might bring a certain measure of amelioration. It seems, indeed, better to keep and improve a defective form of government than to change it for something new—however good—and untried. My only ambition now is to end my days near you. [Illustration] {344} MEDICAL ANIMALS. [Illustration] A venerable Crow announces the approaching death of one of our colleagues; he flatters himself on being able to foretell the event. His prognostication is, we should say, certain to be verified, for at that moment the poor sufferer enters; he was a Dog—we say was, for he is now, alas! nothing more than the skeleton, the shadow of that long-suffering animal. We tenderly inquire how he feels.