iring our Cottage from a distance, and especially this self-same
accursed back-smoke, some portions of which had made an excursion up the
chimneys, and was wavering away in a spiral form to the sky, in a style
captivating to Mr Price on the Picturesque.

No doubt, there are many things very romantic about a Cottage.
Creepers, for example. Why, sir, these creepers are the most mischievous
nuisance that can afflict a family. There is no occasion for mentioning
names, but--devil take all parasites. Some of the rogues will actually
grow a couple of inches upon you in one day's time; and when all other
honest plants are asleep, the creepers are hard at it all night long,
stretching out their toes and their fingers, and catching an
inextricable hold of every wall they can reach, till, finally, you see
them thrusting their impudent heads through the very slates. Then, like
other low-bred creatures, they are covered with vermin. All manner of
moths--the most grievous grubs--slimy slugs--spiders spinning toils to
ensnare the caterpillar--earwigs and slaters, that would raise the gorge
of a country curate--wood-lice--the slaver of gowk's-spittle--midges--
jocks-with-the-many-legs; in short, the whole plague of insects infest
that--Virgin's bower. Open the lattice for half an hour, and you find
yourself in an entomological museum. Then there are no pins fixing down
the specimens. All these beetles are alive, more especially the enormous
blackguard crawling behind your ear. A moth plumps into your tumbler of
cold negus, and goes whirling round in meal, till he makes absolute
porritch. As you open your mouth in amazement, the large blue-bottle
fly, having made his escape from the spiders, and seeing that not a
moment is to be lost, precipitates himself head-foremost down your
throat, and is felt, after a few ineffectual struggles, settling in
despair at the very bottom of your stomach. Still, no person will be so
unreasonable as to deny that creepers on a Cottage are most beautiful.
For the sake of their beauty, some little sacrifice must be made of
one's comforts, especially as it is only for one half of the year, and
last really was a most delightful summer.

How truly romantic is a thatch roof! The eaves how commodious for
sparrows! What a paradise for rats and mice! What a comfortable colony
of vermin! They all bore their own tunnels in every direction, and the
whole interior becomes a Cretan labyrinth. Frush, frush becomes the