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THE
QUADRUPEDS’ PIC-NIC

LONDON
WILLIAM PICKERING
1840

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C. Whittingham, Tooks Court,
Chancery Lane.

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ADVERTISEMENT

The “Quadrupeds’ Pic-Nic” is a very humble imitation of Mrs. Dorset’s “Peacock at Home.” Even in my imitation I find I am not original. The Quadrupeds, it appears, have already had an “Elephants’ Ball,” and a “Lions’ Masquerade.”

F. B. C.

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THE QUADRUPEDS’ PIC-NIC.

NO doubt you have heard how the grasshoppers’ feasts

“Excited the spleen of the birds and the beasts;”

How the peacock and turkey “flew into a passion,”

On finding that insects “pretended to fashion.”

Now, I often have thought it exceedingly hard,

That nought should be said of the beasts by the bard;

Who, by some strange neglect, has omitted to state

That the quadrupeds gave a magnificent fête;

So, out of sheer justice I take up my pen,

To tell you the how, and the where, and the when.

The place which they chose was a wild chestnut ground,

(And many such spots in the new world are found,)

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Where the evergreen oak and the cucumber trees

Rear aloft their tall branches, and wave in the breeze;

Where the hickory, cypress, and cabbage-tree grow,

And shade the sweet flowers that blossom below;

And the creepers and vines form a beautiful sight,

As they climb the tall shaft, and hang down from a height;

Or they mix with the long pendant moss which is found

Growing high on the branches, yet touching the ground:

From amidst the dark foliage the mocking-birds sing,

Or mimic the hum of the honey-bees’ wing,

As they whirl round a flower enjoying the feast,

So unsparingly spread for bird, insect, or beast.

From afar the bald eagle is seen in the sky,

Now darting below, and now soaring on high;

Now he takes from the fish-hawk his newly caught prey,

And with speed to the forest he bears it away;

Whilst the wood is alive with a feathery throng,

Who from morning till night fill the air with their song.

On one side is the lake where the wild cattle drink,

And trample the rice which grows wild on its brink;

The freshness untouch’d of earth’s beauties declare,

Neither pride, pomp, nor envy, have ever been there;

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Here Nature resides—nothing human is seen;

Foot of man hath not pass’d o’er that prairie I ween,

Unless some few wandering Indians have pass’d—

Of their sorrowing tribe perhaps nearly the last.

I should fail to describe in a picturesque manner

The splendid repose of that grassy Savanna;

Tall shadows swept out from the forest of pine, }

The site was a fair one, the weather so fine, }

That even a quadruped thought it divine. }

To this wild grassy spot, on the long look’d for day,

Merry parties of beasts made the best of their way;

There were bears, long and short-legg’d, black, brown, grey, and white,

From different parts, to enjoy the fine sight.

The polar bear came in a sledge, and she said

That the journey had caused a sharp pain in her head:

For, although well protected from snout to her tail,

She thought she had got a slight “coup-de-soleil;”

So she hastily called for a gallon of ice,

Which a monkey in waiting served up in a trice.

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Then the jaguar, the couguar, and fierce Ocelot,

And Sir Hans Armadillo, who came at full trot,

Brother Jonathan Beaver, escaped from the trappers,

Sloth, Tortoise, and Dormouse, notorious nappers.

That beau, the musk-Ox, with his long scented hair,

And John Bull just arrived on his travels, were there;

Messrs. Martin, Hare, Squirrel, the Ermine, and Stoat,

And the rock-mountain sheep, with his cousin, the goat;

Then the sociable marmot, and tiny shrew mouse,

The raccoon and agouti from hollow-tree house.

Chinchilla the soft, musk and Canada rats,

Hounds, mastiffs, wolves, foxes, and wild tiger cats;

Jerboa just roused from his long winter nap,

Opossum, with four little babes in her lap.

The morse, seal, and otter—amphibious group!

And of bisons (the humpbacked) there came a whole troop.

It seems that the elk out of pride staid away,

Having just shed his horns, which he does about May.

The fallow and red-deer were gone to a lick,

With a numerous party, who thought themselves sick;

But the antelope, stag, and the Wapiti deer,

Notwithstanding the age of the latter, were there.

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The Esquimaux dogs, red, white, brindled, and black,

Who, for fear of the wolves, had arrived in a pack,

Were not heard to speak in the course of the day,

And were thought by the rest “to have nothing to say.”

But if they were silent, ’twas clear they could growl,

And on meeting the wolf, gave a wild dismal howl;

For although ’twas supposed they were slightly connected,

In quarrels and fights they’d been often detected;

Though ’tis true, all dislikes for this day were forbidden,

Yet mutual antipathies could not be hidden.

Noble horses of Spanish extraction there came,

The chief of whose party was terribly lame;

For it seems that in one of his frolicsome scampers,

Beneath a hot sun in the wide spreading Pampas,

By the rich purple fruit of the Cactus allured,

And feeling a thirst that could not be endured,

He approach’d it to eat, but his nose was not proof

Against the sharp thorns, so he struck with his hoof,

When they pierced his bare foot, and so now he limp’d in

With his fetlock bound up in a garter-snake’s skin:

The vampire-bat, surgeon, now offered to bleed it,

In case as he thought his poor patient would need it;

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And added, at least it could do him no harm

To try his specific, the juice of the palm.

From the South came the puma, American lion,

Of the old house of Leo degenerate scion.

The tapir, and also that excellent diver,

Alligator, or Cayman, from Amazon river;

And with him the Llama, whose sad trick of spitting

Was thought by the company very unfitting.

But, to shorten my tale, all the New World were there,

From the tiny shrew mouse to the fierce grisly bear;

Though it seems that the peccary was not invited,

For he as a nuisance had just been indicted.

From the Old World, the lion and tiger with glee

Would have join’d them, but dreaded the journey by sea.

Beneath some fine trees, on the beautiful green,

A knot of philosophers was to be seen

Looking gravely about, and conversing together;

Some on learning and science, and some on the weather.

Dr. Mole on geology talk’d in high strain,

And declared his researches had not been in vain,

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And that many geologists would have been glad

To have found opportunities such as he had;

For whilst searching for food in his underground travel,

Midst fossils, roots, shells, hid in chalk, sand, or gravel,

He the monstrous remains of great mammoths had seen,

Who no longer existed, but who once had been;

“The theories about them are various,” said he,

“As to how they came there, and what they may be;

But not one of these I incline to receive,

For that they were elephants, who can believe?

There was one Mr. Cuvier, who talk’d of the sloth,

But to listen to nonsense like this I am loth;

From the strength of their limbs, and the make of their paws,

From the shape of their bodies, and length of their claws,

I am firmly convinced they’re related to me,

And to this all philosophers ought to agree;

For how could such creatures have got into holes,

Unless, (’tis my theory,) they had been moles?”

He ceased, then just turn’d his diminutive eyes,

First round to the company, then to the skies,

And receiving applause from all who sate round,

He threw up his hill, and escaped underground.

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Signor Greyhound, a foreigner, talk’d of the swamps,

Of the ague and fever, both caused by the damps;

Then quickly proceeded the climate to quiz,

And exclaim’d, “In Italia we’ve nothing of this!”

Mr. Hog said that he had sent over his daughter

To England, to have all the sciences taught her;

And learned she was, all the world must allow,

For the Savants pronounced her a wonderful sow.

She was heard to grunt forth an unwilling apology,

For daring to boast of her skill in Nosology,

And presuming to hint what a dab she’d been found,

At extracting the root, whether square root, or round.

Some beavers complain’d of that biped call’d man,

Who does to their race all the harm that he can,

Some of whom, not long since, came to kidnap and pillage

The whole of their neighbouring water-bound village,

And they guess’d the snake-Indians caught many a score,

To stew down the tails for their great Sagamore.

The hedgehog, who always lies snug in his nest,

Till his fourfooted neighbours betake them to rest,

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Now changed his old custom for once in a way,

Unroll’d his warm nose, and came forth in the day.

He sought for the cow, and implored the good dame

Would find out some means to restore his fair fame,

For there still was prevailing a cruel belief

That oft in the night he came forth as a thief;

So he lived in continual danger and strife,

Though he never had tasted her milk in his life.

On the faith of a hedgehog he dared to affirm,

That he seldom found courage to injure a worm.

Mrs. Cow was astonish’d; she never had heard

A report more untrue, a belief so absurd.

She urged that his mouth was too little by half

To steal the sweet milk that she meant for Miss Calf;

And concluded by saying, “’Tis surely enough

To mention (excuse me) your coat is so rough,

If even supposing that you should not fear me,

I never could suffer your skin to come near me.”

An old porcupine, too, just begg’d leave to observe,

That reports had been spread which he did not deserve;

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To say he was “fretful,” was using him ill,

He would prove the reverse to his very last quill;

Though he now bristled up at the simple idea,

This was often, with him, but a symptom of fear.

As he spoke, a poor toad, who had sate quite aloof

In a hovel of earth, with a stone for a roof,

Now slowly, on tiptoe, crept out of his hole,

And into the midst of the company stole;

The quadrupeds gazed as the reptile drew nigh,

Half afraid of his looks, though they could not tell why.

Mouse’s hair stood on end, and, still stranger to say,

Miss Chameleon changed colour, and fainted away.

Poor bufo confess’d, as he sate in the dark,

He had listen’d to porcupine’s brilliant remark,

And had thought it was due to himself and posterity,

T’ expose a new case of the poets’ temerity.

The poets, who kindly, but falsely, had said,

That he carried a beautiful gem in his head;

A jewel he thought would be quite out of place,

With his rustic brown coat, and his sallow green face,

And he knew not how people could think it was true,

Unless they had seen him when spangled with dew.

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His Surinam friend could they possibly mean,

Who carried her little ones set in her skin.

Those alone were the jewels his friend ever wore,

Like Cornelia’s, the good Roman matron of yore.

Having stated the case with regard to attire,

He said, with some warmth, that he did not spit fire:

And he ask’d why the wise ones omitted to hint

Where he carried his tinder, his steel, and his flint:

That his time was more usefully spent, he might say,

In chasing the vagrants and spectres away.

Every member of reptile society knew

That of insects and grubs he destroy’d not a few:

His wife had just miss’d a huge pioneer spider,

Who fled to his home, and then rudely defied her,

And e’en bang’d his door in her face to deride her.

The marmot was “tchatting” away without end,

With a burrowing owl, his old neighbour and friend,

Who, being a bird in whom marmot confided,

Had hired his cottage, in which he resided.

The landlord just hinted, that when he lived there,

He had kept the old hovel in charming repair;

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The walls neatly mended, the parlour swept clean,

And never a cobweb nor grain to be seen;

But that now this once pleasant and rural retreat,

By his tenant, the owl, was no longer kept neat;

That the little round chamber, and long slanting hall,

For the want of attention, were likely to fall;

Such a mess and confusion he could but deplore,

And he thought, at the least, she might plaster the floor,

Just turn out of doors all the shells of her eggs,

And those heaps of dried beetles’ and butterflies’ legs.

The poor owl, who spoke well in the prairie-dog tongue,

Now found an excuse, in the care of her young;

Alleged the hard times; that is, beetles were few,

So to find them in food she had plenty to do.

The raccoon stood apart in a beautiful glade,

Much disturb’d by the noise that the company made,

And there with a friend he stay’d fretting and pining,

To hear such a bellowing, howling, and whining.

“Oh! those red-monkeys’ shrieks,” his old friend would begin,

“Niagara surely don’t make such a din;

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Let us get in this tree, ’tis the squirrel’s old barn,

And (as Captain Seal says) I’ll there spin a yarn.

I awoke very early to come to this feast,

Ere the sun warm’d the top of that hill in the east,

And forth from my lodging proceeded to creep,

For the wild turkey’s ‘gobble’ had broken my sleep.

Then I climb’d some tall maize plants, and ate up the ears,

And enjoy’d the repast, notwithstanding my fears;

For great is my awe of the red Indian’s gun,

And I thought I had caught a slight glimpse of one.

I saw, too, a rattlesnake creeping hard by,

And heard his tail clatter, and mark’d his red eye.

He coil’d himself up, for he spied me right soon,

And was wishing, no doubt, for a bit of raccoon;

Then, thinking the risk of a rifle in truth,

Was better by far than his poisonous tooth,

I hasten’d away from the much dreaded place,

That I might not be coil’d in his slimy embrace.

I rambled along to our nook in the beach,

And swallow’d the oysters that lay within reach.

Then traversed in haste the Savanna so wide,

Till I found the tall pine where you usually hide.

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Then I scamper’d away o’er the Indigo fields,

Soon pass’d the old maple, (what sugar it yields!)

I travell’d along to the cabbage-palm quay,

Turn’d short by the far-spreading tall tulip tree.

Through forest and plain, and through dark dismal swamp,

And lighted alone by the firefly’s lamp,

Which, fluttering around me, now here and now there,

Rings of gold to my fancy seem’d form’d in the air,

Till now at the brink of the lake I arrive,

Reconnoitre the spot, and prepare for a dive,

Then plunged in the water, and over I swam,

Quickly climb’d the green bank, and so now here I am!

“But I will not detain you with tales of the north,

Of the riches and beauties that nature brings forth;

I should fail in describing what flowers abound,

Rhododendrons and kalmias empurpling the ground;

How the laurels’ gay berries, of deep coral red,

Hang far out from their cones on a bright silver thread;

How white lilies, azalias, enliven the green,

But will speak of the south, which will vary the scene.

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“The Puma, the Llama, and tapir elate,

Tell their tales of the Mexican gardens and state;

That in midst of a lake those bright swimming isles float,

Which are paddled about like a raft or a boat;

Then they boast of the flowers, the pepper, and maize,

And give one accounts of the natives’ strange ways:

If a man be annoy’d by his neighbour, they say,