_Tuesday, May 15th_.--This was a somewhat sad day, many of our pets
dying from the effects of the cold wind or from accidents. The
steward's mocking-bird from Siam, which talked like a Christian and
followed him about like a dog, died of acute bronchitis early this
morning; and his monkey, the most weird little creature, with the
affectionate ways of a human friend, died in the afternoon, of
inflammation and congestion of the lungs. Two other monkeys and
several birds also expired in the course of the day.
This evening 'Beau Brummel,' the little pig I brought from Bow Island,
in the South Pacific, died of a broken spine, as the doctor, who made
a post-mortem examination in each case, discovered. A spar must have
dropped upon poor piggy accidentally whilst he was running about on
deck, though of course no one knew anything about it. I am very sorry;
for though I must confess he was somewhat greedy and pig-like in his
habits, he was extremely amusing in his ways. He ran about and went to
sleep with the pugs, just like one of themselves. Besides, I do not
think any one else in England could have boasted of a pig given to
them by a South-Sea-Island chief. Probably 'Beau Brummel' was a lineal
descendant of the pigs Captain Cook took out in the 'Endeavour.'
The bodies were all placed together in a neat little box and committed
to the deep at sunset, a few tears being shed over the departed pets,
especially by the children.
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