to make trial with each of his fingers, by thrusting them into the anus of several persons of both nations, and professed he could find no such difference between them as those ill-disposed people allege.  On the contrary, he assured me, that much the greater number of narrow cavities were of Hibernian origin.  This I only mention to shew how ready the Jacobites are to lay hold of any handle to express their malice against the government.  I had almost forgot to add, that my friend the physician could, by smelling each finger, distinguish the Hibernian excrement from the British, and was not above twice mistaken in an hundred experiments; upon which he intends very soon to publish a learned dissertation.

There is a diversion in this City, which usually begins among the butchers, but is often continued by a succession of other people, through many streets.  It is called the COSSING of a dog; and I may justly number it among our corruptions.  The ceremony is this:  A strange dog happens to pass through a flesh-market; whereupon an expert butcher immediately cries in a loud voice, and the proper tone, “Coss, coss,” several times:  The same word is repeated by the people.  The dog, who perfectly understands the terms of art, and consequently the danger he is in, immediately flies.  The people, and even his own brother animals pursue; the pursuit and cry attend him perhaps half a mile; he is well worried in his flight, and sometimes hardly escapes.  This, our ill-wishers of the Jacobite kind, are pleased to call a persecution; and affirm, that it always falls upon dogs of the Tory principle.  But, we can well defend ourselves, by justly alleging that when they were uppermost, they treated our dogs full as inhumanly:  As to my own part, who have in former times often attended these processions, although I can very well distinguish between a Whig and Tory dog, yet I never carried my resentments very far upon a party principle, except it were against certain malicious dogs, who most discovered their malice against us in the worst of times.[176] And, I remember too well, that in the wicked ministry of the Earl of Oxford, a large mastiff of our party being unmercifully cossed, ran, without thinking, between my legs, as I was coming up Fishamble Street; and, as I am of low stature, with very short legs, bore me riding backwards down the hill, for above two hundred yards:  And, although I made use of his tail for a bridle, holding it fast with both my hands, and clung my legs as close to his sides as I could, yet we both came down together into the middle of the kennel; where after rolling three or four times over each other, I got up with much ado, amid the shouts and huzzas of a thousand malicious Jacobites:  I cannot, indeed, but gratefully acknowledge, that for this and many other services and sufferings, I have been since more than over-paid.

This adventure may, perhaps, have put me out of love with the diversions of cossing, which I confess myself an enemy to, unless we could always be sure of distinguishing Tory dogs; whereof great numbers have since been so prudent, as entirely to change their principles, and are now justly esteemed the best worriers of their former friends.