and the beasts, but they take to such curious rigs,
I'm always at odds with the turkey-cock, and I
can't even please the pigs.
The very hens pick holes in my hands when I
grope for the new-laid eggs,
And the gander comes hissing out of the pond
on purpose to flap at my legs.
I've been bump'd in a ditch by the cow without
horns, and the old sow trampled me down,
The beasts are as vicious as any wild beasts--but
they're kept in cages in town!
Another thing is the nasty dogs--thro' the village
I hardly can stir
Since giving a bumpkin a pint of beer just to call
off a barking cur;
And now you would swear all the dogs in the
place were set on to hunt me down,
But neither the brutes nor the people I think are
as civilly bred as in town.
Last night about twelve I was scared broad awake,
and all in a tremble of fright,
But instead of a family murder it proved an owl
that flies screeching at night.
Then there's plenty of ricks and stacks all
about, and I can't help dreaming of Swing--
In short, I think that a plastoral life is not the
most happiest thing;
For besides all the troubles I've mentioned before
as endur'd for rurality's sake,
I've been stung by the bees, and I've set among
ants, and once--ugh! I trod on a snake!
And as to moskitoes they tortured me so, for I've
got a particular skin,
I do think it's the gnats coming out of the ponds
that drives the poor suicides in!
And after all an't there new-laid eggs to be had
upon Holborn Hill?
And dairy-fed pork in Broad St. Giles's, and fresh
butter wherever you will?
And a covered cart that brings Cottage Bread
quite rustical-like and brown?
So one isn't so very uncountrified in the very
heart of the town.
Howsomever my mind's made up, and although
I'm sure cousin Giles will be vext,
I mean to book me an inside place up to town
upon Saturday next,
And if nothing happens, soon after ten, I shall
be at the Old Bell and Crown,
And perhaps I may come to the country again,
when London is all burnt down!

A FLYING VISIT.

"A Calendar! a Calendar! look in the Almanac, find
out moonshine--find out moonshine!"--_Midsummer
Night's Dream_.

I.

The by-gone September,
As folks may remember,
At least if their memory saves but an ember,
One fine afternoon,
There went up a Balloon,
Which did not return to the Earth very