[111] In that early, dark, but not unhappy era of Quebec municipal
existence, in June, 1842, when the great novelist, Chas. Dickens,
perambulated our thoroughfares and surveyed our battle fields, did the
author of "Pickwick," in his rambles, meet in this odoriferous lane any of
those "roving, gentlemanly, philosophic, republican" porkers, such as had
crossed his path in the "empire city" of the West, and which, as typical
New York pigs, have since become famous. "A select party," says he, "of
half a dozen gentlemanly hogs have just now turned the corner."
"Here is a solitary swine lounging homeward by himself. He has only one
ear, having parted with the other to vagrant dogs in the course of his
city rambles. But he gets on very well without it, and leads a roving,
gentlemanly, vagabond life, somewhat answering to that of our club men at
home. He leaves his lodgings every morning at a certain hour, throws
himself upon the town, gets through the day in some manner quite
satisfactory to himself, and regularly appears at the door of his own
house again at night, like the mysterious master of Gil Blas. He is a free
and easy, careless, indifferent kind of pig, having a very large
acquaintance among other pigs of the same character, whom he rather knows
by sight than conversation, as he seldom troubles himself to stop and
exchange civilities, but goes grunting down the kennel, turning up the
news and small talk of the city, in the shape of cabbage-stalks and offal,
and bearing no tails but his own, which is a very short one, for his old
enemies the dogs have been at that too, and have left him hardly enough to
swear by.
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