SCRAP BOOK. 9
gry rage might be thundered, forth within a few yards of my side. I ran with the velocity of a hunted deer, and still felt freezing in every limb. Had a lion crossed me that night, I must inevitably have fallen a prey to him; but, by good fortune, I reached the boor's house in safety, and in the comforts of his hospitable hearth, endeavoured to forget my fears.
(To be concluded in our next.)
THE COCK FIGHT,
A BURLESQUE SKETCH.
Concluded from our last.
OF all the feathered warriors assembled on this eventful day, only three had shewed an aversion from appearing on the field of strife. However, by flying from danger, they rushed upon inevitable destruction; for they immediately suffered an ignominious death; and after being immolated, were exhibited to public view, as unworthy longer to live in a society which their cowardice had disgraced. Of the rest, not one had retired from the scene of action without obvious marks, and painful recollections, of the service in which he had been engaged.
Some had lost an eye; others had broken wings; their plumage was stript off; their limbs and wounds were now sore and stiff with fatigue and clotted blood.-Yet such was the spirit of their masters, that they were again brought forth to afford them sport; again they were placed in the pit, not in pairs, but old and young, veteran and
