THE FRENCH BLACKSMITHS—A RAM. BLE IN BOULOGNE.

New Zealand Spectator and Cook's Strait Guardian, Volume V, Issue 334, 11 October 1848, Page 4

THE FRENCH BLACKSMITHS— A RAM. BLE IN BOULOGNE.

As I stood gazing in the middle of the road, a sturdy fellow, evidently English, came up ; whom, by his dress, and by a morose looking bull-dog that accompanied him, I judged to be a groom. Seeing me there he stopped too ; and champing a straw which he carried in his mouth, looked on for awhile in silence. j The bull-dog, who had a torn lip, and a | wound (doubtless honourable) on his fore paw, limped up and sat down at the groom's feet ; where, after licking his paw for awhile, he curled himself comfortably up, and dropped into a watchful doze. Just then the music of the anvil ceased ; the bellows left off breathing ; the fire dwindled to a spark ; the great hammers reposed on their heads on the ground ; and the biggest of the three advanced towards the light, holding the horse-shoe, still glowing, in bis iron tongs. He looked at it flatways and edgeways, and lighted his pipe by it. While he was thus engaged, a sudden snarl issued from the depths of the shed, and a pair of eyes glared red beneath the workbench. Next moment a great mastiff sprung forth, grinning hideously, with his white teeth unsheathed up to the gums, and back to the very binges of his jaws. By his furious barking, and the bloodthirsty fire of his distended eye-ball, I expected to see him rush, at once upon the bull-dog. But he stood hesitating on the threshold ; and, quivering with rage, appeared to measure his adversary's strength. "The projected invasion!" thought I, laughing. The sleeping bull-dog, to do him justice, was on his feet in an instant ; and retorted the very first war-note with a savage growl. With, bristles erect, fangs bared, and hatred flashing eyes, he advanced towards his assailant : and, planting his square chest stubbornly on his short bow legs, shook his lean ribs with deep fetched blasts of defiance. " G r-r-r, Boxer 1" said the groom. " Back, stupid, Don't you see he's twice your weight, you fool ?" At this rebuke the bull-dog came sulky back ; and, sitting down behind his master's legs, scowled round them at the enemy. " The English fortifications !" said Ito myself. . At the two dogs watched each other, mut-

tering and showing their teeth, I could not help thinking of Tennyson's line— - And the nations do but murmur, snarling at each other's heels. Meanwhile the blacksmith stood in the doorway ; smoking, and curiously surveying the groom's attire. " There's shoulders !" said my companion, in a low, admiring tone. " And look at them arms !" They were indeed, of Herculean mould. "Double X is a very good thing, sir," said the groom ; " and thrubble X is better. Roast beef is good. Christmas pudden is good. In steaks they can't come nigh us ; and their drink is rot. But I tell you what it is, sir," said he, dropping his voice a little, " whatever they live on, frogs or frjgazees, I have seen some here, both men and dogs, as one of our'n couldn't tackle three ou — not by a very long chalk." " And yet that is the regulation number,' ' said I, laughing. He shook his head, still eyeing the unconscious blacksmith ; who puffed away cheerfully, looking up and down the road. "And he don't look like a white-feather neither ; do he, sir?" replied the groom. He certainly did not ; in any sense of the expression. " And wheresoever he come from, there's plenty more of the same sort ?'* continued the groom. " Ah, to be sure !" I replied. " Regiments on 'em," said he. " Squadrons," said I. " One to three," he resumed, thoughtfully, "is ten to thirty. Ten thousand to thirty thousand. It wouldn't act, sir, would it ?" " I fancy not," said I. "It would not" he rejoined. "It may sound strange to English ears, but we couldn't come it !" " But suppose the numbers equal ?" I suggested. "Very true, sir," he replied, quickly. " Ekal, I don't say no. And I shouldn't be the man to be back'ard. But arter all, sir, where's the good on it. 1 say, ' Let dogs delight.' " " Certainly," said I, " I quite agree with you." "And cocks," added he. "A good cock fight is beautiful. But as to men," he continued, " since I come across, to-morrow is a week, my thoughts is changed surprising." "As how?" I asked. " Why, I used to think like Jack Bollock, as keeps the British Lion, down our mews ; and now I think quite the contrairy. I says to myself, for instance. * Tom,' says I, ' why put your head in the place of that anvil?' says I." " You should put that question to Jack Bullock," I observed, smiling. " I mean to, sir," he cried, " directly I get back. I shall say, ' Jack !' says I, *is your j head a horseshoe?' says 1. 'Is its natuie hard knocks V says I. Oh, you may leave me alone to pitch it pretty strong !" I laughed ; and shortly afterwards he bade me " good hye" and walked on. I looked after him as he trudged along the road, with his savage dog at his heels. " Now there goes a practical missionary of peace," thought I. " That bull-baiting fellow will do more to check warlike tendencies iii the stable yards and cock-pits of his neighbourhood, than a dozen theoretic philanthropists. He mixes with the very class whose prejudices and brutal propensities stand in most need of correction. He speaks their language, and understands their peculiar logic. And, in whatever pothouses and prize rings he tells of these French blacksmiths, he will propagate feelings of inter- national esteem, and unconsciously disseminate germs of order and fraternity. ... Go thy ways then, rough apostle!" said I. "Thou, too, hast thy appointed task ! Tot aussi, tuapforteras une pierre " au temple de VHumanite /" — Frazers Magazine.