dumb animals has a more truly æsthetic mind than many of our modern connoisseurs of “high art” who are inexpressibly pained by the sight of an ugly house or an inartistic piece of furniture, while they View with entire equanimity a system of diet which necessitates the very ugly trade of the butcher.
It would be curious to know if there were any æsthetic persons present at the Alexandra Palace, among those who enjoyed the novelty of a kid dinner, given by the “British Goat Society” about a year ago (1880). At this dinner—to quote the account then given in the Daily News—“the Honorary Secretary confessed to having slaughtered two of his own goats' kids, amid the tears of his children, to satisfy the appetites of the guests, and the statement was heard without eliciting any visible sign of remorse from the company.”
We are inclined to think that the æsthetic taste of those who could hear this statement, without showing very visible signs of dissatisfaction, must have been of a somewhat question- able character.
But it is needless to refer to individual instances of bad taste, when all the country is
