Dogs are frequently afflicted with divers sorts of worms, but the tape worm, or tænia, is the most common to be found. It is sometimes called tænia articulos dimittens, from the frequency of its parting with its joints. It was for a great length of time supposed by many eminent men, that only one worm existed in the same individual, from whence it was called solism, and by the French "le ver solitaire." But it has since been satisfactorily proved, that each link is a single worm, which has a head capable of imbibing nourishment; but that the first joint alone is possessed of the powers of reproduction. All kinds of animals. are at times subject to this disease, and the worms which come away, are frequently of a very considerable length. I have discovered a string of worms lying in a field, which had been recently voided by a sheep, of the length of upwards of six yards; and I have read accounts of others which were much longer. THE TROUT AND THE PIGEON. BY A KEEN SPORTSMAN. TALK of your fish,-the river's guest,- -- The angler's labours I detest, 66 99.66 Dragoons," Beards," 'Tis true, when fishers, fanciers,—fish And birds bring home,-I love, I trust, To see fins smoking in a dish, Or brown feet peeping through a crust! NO. XCVIII.-VOL. XVI. A. F. 3 B EPSOM RACES. In consequence of the visit to Epsom of the Hereditary Grand Duke of Russia, it was considered proper on the part of the English climate to treat him with weather congenial to his feelings: and whether, from constant practice of late years, an alacrity at cold has become familiarized with our elements, we know not; but there can be no doubt that Russia itself could not have shaved the earth with more illtempered wind razors, nor have indulged in a more handsome profusion of snow, than Epsom did on this occasion. His Highness must have been delighted to witness a great English pastime through a real Russian atmosphere. To the regular Derby visitors the sight was altogether extraordinary. The snow flaked down upon "white bodies with pink sleeves." The snow fell upon the compact jockey-head, and found "cap the same!" The rails and ropes were lined with umbrellas, gentlemen in boas, and ladies in closed carriages. The horses cantered up the hill, before starting, in fear and in surprise; conjecturing, it might be, that they ought to have been taking their wintry walk upon the strawed gallop, under a little unintellectual Holcroft*; instead of being girthed up in earnest, at the sound of " that frightful bell!” by a disguised slight man in a great coat, who, when the new rein and virgin saddle were affixed, stripped himself to his very silks and leathers, and was flitted by a friendly trainer's hand, like a pheasant's gorgeous feather, into his seat! It is true, the muzzle of the previous night gave "dismal note of preparation," and the plaiting of the mane in the morning must have hinted at the ferocious rush after Mr. Justice Clarke, The Justice in air! But still the wind, so very Newmarketty in its nastiest November temper, and the decided snow, could not but remind of the lazy lounging stroll in straw-the kicked-on prowl (by spurless heel of an urchin) " at the back of the lime-kilns"-the quiet round and round in the paddock, under the aged grey eye of the tacit trainer-and the vision of the warm clothes and the head gear, through “each lack-lustre hole" of which the eagle eye looks out! Not so! Not a bit of it! Relentless Mr. Robinson, lifted on to Cæsar, took the short-going as well as short-sighted Conqueror, of old, up the hill. Conolly, on Euclid, worked the nonsensical problem of Newmarketidlesse out of his head, and shewed that he was in his elements. Harry Edwards, on Dragsman, with a seat as beautiful as Chatsworth or Arundel, broke at once the truth to the creature beneath him; and sickly Templeman took a half caste with his Son of Mulatto, which Thomas Holcroft was a lad in a racing stable at Newmarket, and to this origin we are probably indebted for that excellent comedy "The Road to Ruin." must have thrown some colour on the matter about to be agitated. The truth is, that in spite of the disgraceful weather at Derby time, the race was to be run. Snow, and sleet, and withering winds may baffle a tyrant, or annihilate an army; but it will not put aside John Day, or destroy the wondrous Cobweb of "Scott's lot." The Volga may be frozen up-noses may (if they desire, like ministers, not to quit place) be buried in furs for months-muffs may be pressed to chilled pits of chilled stomachs without intermission; but let the weather be "extradouble-Russian," the glossy skin must be bared, the silken summerjacket must light up the wasted body, and the race be run! Empires may rise and fall, flourish and perish but the Derby must come off on the day; an unalterable, imperishable, eternal ceremony, ordained for the happiness of Europe, St. James's Street, Asia, Leadenhall Market, Africa, Aldgate, America, Whitechapel, and all the other quarters of the globe, known or unknown! It is the custom with historians of this annual event, invariably to state that they never saw such crowds present before! that it furnished an unusual feast for the turnpikes; that the grand stand was never previously so full; that Mr. Careless never catered so well; that the new police never acted with such steadiness and forbearance; that the course, of course, was never kept so admirably; that Mr. Clarke never shewed such judgment on the subject of coloured spencers; that Mr. Somebody never perfected so good a start, after certain imperfect ones; that there were present the Duke of Dash, the Duke of Smash, Earl .; and here, as usual, follow the élite of the Court Guide, written at length and unaccountably turned to a profitable use. Our readers, if they require this at our hands, must "conclude it done;" but we shall certainly in our own way, as Macheath was wont to do in his," take the road," and stop a few of the passers by to yield up to us what they are worth. And first let us pay one grateful and adoring attention to a lady, of honest dimensions, in fawn coloured silk, with a white frothy feather mantling her head, occupying three fourths of the seat of a spring cart, or rather the spring seat of a cart, and driven by a sixteenth of a husband. Superbly did she grace her position, and advertise the business :-the cart was far from an unlettered one, on every pannel "ginger beer!” "ginger beer!" "aerated lemonade !" glared in capitals all around her, and there she sat, a human bottle of ginger beer! a proud incorporation of aerated lemonade! the large saffron bottle, with the feathery froth at top! This trick of advertisement has often been done by machinery, as those of our London readers may recollect, who have seen a boy sitting inside the red-hat, or driving about in a gigantic shoe, but the matchless human bottle was a snatching of “ grace beyond the reach of art," which we were not prepared to behold. ours. Then we had an ostler. Fielding has had his ostlers extremely well Hogarthed in his time,-Sir Walter Scott has had his exquisite Yorkshire ostler (a finished good bit, as an actor calls it, though short) who relieved, through his slang and his knowledge of the slang, Jeanie Deans on her way to London to save her sister's life; all novel writers, except the sentimental, have had their ostlers; but they have missed We must try to sketch him. We shall not disguise, that he did not desert his brotherhood in figure; for one leg was beat by the other by half a length; in short he was a distortion; his trowsers appeared to be the treasury of his whole person, yet they did not appear to be a well filled purse, for nothing could seem to be more carelessly capacious! Then what a face! he reminded me, not ungraciously be it said, of dear old Matthews, for when he archly spoke, one eyebrow caricatured the middle arch of Westminster-bridge,-whilst the other curved underneath, like its reflection,—his hair was like a neglected heath that had undergone the mischievous and uncertain attentions of an incendiary. We saw him attending to a fairish grey, well brought down by the rough rider of a livery stable keeper in the London-road; would we could give his conversation in detail," but such eternal blazon must not be, to ears of flesh and blood." We can only say—that he" could not see what took people to races;" that horses "was more trouble than enough;" that he had " a wife and no family all to maintain ;" that he thought he could give a wrinkle to the cruelty to animal company; and that he should like, as he was growing old, to be started in a new line of life; and, as he hissed and curry-combed a hide that really suited him-he said he thought if any gentleman as won his money would jist start him in a small tobacco shop, with his wife to do the mangling, he should be a angel for life, and no mistake.-We regret to say we are not able to put this gentleman into business upon the present occasion. One more character,--and we have done; though we could stretch out the line "e'en to the crack o' doom." This was a quiet thin cold citizen, doing, I should guess, city business, doubtless, in an office cell in a dungeon court, and who lived at Camberwell or Brixton, on his means. Some keeper of a public-house at the West-end, had told the head waiter at a luncheon house near Temple-bar (perhaps the Cock or the Rainbow), who had whispered it to the conductor of the common-law of a city house, who had confided it to the second clerk of a stock broker, who had confidently told it, with speculative sincerity, to our "little individual," that Bloomsbury was a good out-sider! Dear little fellow, he had got on his pound at the savage odds; and he came to us on the course, when the horses were just about to start, and had taken their canter, and begged, with a sort of yearning, that we would point him out Lord Chesterfield's horse. We grieve to say, that at once arose in us the malice native to racing, and we told him nothing of Lord Chesterfield's was to start. The features, the figure, the whole thing, shut up like a telescope; and but for the all-engrossing interest of the moment, we should have pulled him out again with an explanation. The race run,—and the Liliputian enlightened,-we met him! -he was too big for us! he had the ambition apparently to stand up behind every body's carriage! "he had won forty pounds, and he didn't care who knew it!" he had taken extreme brandy on the weakness of his fortune; he had had his pocket picked on the strength of it; he looked at the thimble pea with anxious affection; he declared there was plenty of time to get to town ;" and we left, and we regret that we did leave, this poor fated winner, mad for anything in the way of gaming! enthusiastic on the subject of his unexpected wealth—wealth, which he was squandering in anticipation on the bottle, when it was but a visionary source, to be drawn from the Wood. 66 These characters dismissed, we may come to all that is the essence of pauperism of character. What a scene is the front of the coffeehouse at Epsom! Lumley's is pretty well; but Baker's is supreme in false faces, wrinkled eye-corners, careless looks of care, lancing glancings of suspicion! The old man,—the intended but moving scarecrow-tests the embossed yellow-buttoned youth at the last hour; and the fawning of the year ends in the embittered tiger, avarice and doubt of the moment! The trainer is scarce,—to shew a show of stable attention; but he is near at hand! The jockey is wasting-not altogether himself. The lads are in mild kerseymeres on the outskirts! and all the remote hangers-on, upon the nearer hangers-on, upon the little light-weights, are the extreme circle of the ring, which, like the outside circles of the ring, on a locally excited spot of water, is too indistinct almost to be visible. The most sighing time of day on this great occasion (putting aside the bell for saddling), is the going up to the course from Epsom. A Leg leaves, satisfied, and yet stern,—to a timidly ruined wretch, welldressed, and educated, who solicits a hedge. Dandies, without a bet, go on hacks, with gallant vanity, in groups or singly (from Sewell and Cross's, or Swann and Edgar's, or Waterloo House), through the town. A barouche with a fat lady and two innocent girls, carries a jaded gentleman, with " a hundred on," and all his moroseness in, by the pond and the wife of a jockey is whirled hastily yet sadly by, knowing at the heart (and knowing, through feeling, the best of knowledge) that he is venturing on a fearful flight. We have seen one of the sweetest of women subdued to tears, and the most anxious tenderness, at the thoughts of her husband being about to guide the rapid |