bears and dogs, surrounded by an immense concourse of spectators. While they were exhibiting, a dog which had formerly been accustomed to travel with a similar company of these grotesque performers, and now belonged to the county gaoler, hearing the sound, flew furiously upon a very large bear whose overbearing force and weight soon crushed him to the ground. "Give her tooth," said the Savoyards, irritated at the interruption of their exhibiton, and making preparations to take off the muzzle of the bear. Lambert, being acquainted with the master of the dog, and knowing that, in this case, the animal would be exposed to certain destruction, went out and addressed the people with the intention of pacifying them, and prevailing upon them to suffer the dog to be taken away. Deaf to all his remonstrances, one of the Savoyards still persisted in pulling off the muzzle, the dog being all this time underneath, and in the grasp of the bear. Enraged at the fellow's obstimacy, he protested he would kill the bear if it lay in his power, and snatching from the

man's hand the paddle or pole with which they manage these animals, at the moment when the muzzle was removed, he struck the bear with all his force, fully intending to despatch her if possible. Bruin was for a moment completely stunned with the blow, and the dog seized that opportunity of disengaging himself form her clutches. Enraged at this fresh attack, she turned towards her new antagonist, who kept repeating his strokes, but without being able to hit her head, which she protected form his blows with all the dexterity of the most accomplished pugilist. During these successive attacks, the dog, faithful to his friend who had so opportunely stepped to his aid, continued to exhibit the most astonishing proofs of undaunted intrepidity, till he was at length caught up by one of the by-standers. The weather was frosty, and the pavement was slightly glazed from the trundling of a mop. Here, while thus busily engaged in belabouring his formidable foe, Lambert fell, but arose again with the utmost agility. Bruin was now close to him; he had a full view of her tremendous

teeth, and felt the heat from her breath. The danger became pressing, and as his shaggy foe was too near to admit of his using the weapon, he struck her with his left hand such a violent blow on the skull, as brought her to the ground; on which she declined the contest, and "yelling fled." During the fray, a smaller bear had been standing upright against a wall, with a cocked hat on his head; in consequence of the retreat of his companion, this ludicrous figure now appeared full in front of the victorious champion, who brandished in his hand the up-lifted pole. The beast, as if aware of his danger, and expecting to be attacked in his turn, instantly took off his hat, and apparently in token of submission, tumbled heels over head at the feet of the conqueror. Meanwhile

the populace, terrified at the approach of ursa major began to retire in a backward direction, still keeping the unsuccessful combatant in view, till they tumbled one after another over some loads of coal that happend to lie in the way. The scene now became truly ludicrous: forty people were

down at a time; and as though each person thought himself already in the gripe of the irritated animal, vociferated Murder! with all their might. The Savoyards who were after all, the greatest sufferers by this tragicomic representation, applied to the mayor, and demanded redress. The magistrate inquired where the fray happened, and was informed that it took place in Blue-BoarLane, in the parish of St. Nicholas-the inhabitants of which have for many years been distinguished by the appellation of Nick's Ruffs. "Oh!" said he, the people of that parish do just as they please; they are out of my jurisdiction ;" and gravely dismissed the disappointed complainants. It was two years before this company of itinerant performers again ventured to make their appearance in Blue-Boar-Lane. On this occasion, one who happened to be rather before the rest, perceiving Lambert sitting at his door, gave notice to the others, who, dreading a repetition of the treatment they had before experienced, instantly retreated by the way they had come.

It was not very long after the above adventure that Lambert experienced an escape from a danger much more alarming, and from the consequence of which no human exertions could possibly have preserved him. He was one of the numerous inhabitants of Leicester, whom the memorable conflagration at the house of a well known bookseller, now resident in the metropolis, attracted to the spot. It was dark, the fire was then raging with the utmost fury, and Lambert passed along under a wall, which, from the falling of the others to which it had once been joined, now stood completely detached. When he had reached the extremity, an acquaintance whom he accidently found there, congratulated him on his narrow escape, at the same time pointing to the wall. Lambert, totally unconscious of the risk to which he had been exposed, and now standing in a line with the wall, observed with horror that it rocked to and fro like corn in the breeze, and not many moments elapsed ere it fell with a tremendous crash.

His father having resigned the office of