):
And so from out the gate they creep;
And cross the fields of clover.

Their lines into the brook they launch;
He lays his cloak upon a branch,
To guarantee his Lady Blanche
's delicate complexion:
He takes his rapier from his haunch,
That beardless, doughty champion staunch;
He'd drill it through the rival's paunch
That question'd his affection!

O heedless pair of sportsmen slack!
You never mark, though trout or jack,
Or little foolish stickleback,
Your baited snares may capture.
What care has _she_ for line and hook?
She turns her back upon the brook,
Upon her lover's eyes to look
In sentimental rapture.

O loving pair! as thus I gaze
Upon the girl who smiles always,
The little hand that ever plays
Upon the lover's shoulder;
In looking at your pretty shapes,
A sort of envious wish escapes
(Such as the Fox had for the Grapes)
The Poet, your beholder.

To be brave, handsome, twenty-two;
With nothing else on earth to do,
But all day long to bill and coo:
It were a pleasant calling.
And had I such a partner sweet;
A tender heart for mine to beat,
A gentle hand my clasp to meet;--
I'd let the world flow at my feet,
And never heed its brawling.

LXIX. ON A HUNDRED YEARS HENCE.

This is one of the most popular of the famous Roundabout Papers
written by Thackeray for the _Cornhill Magazine_, of which he was
the first editor.

Where have I just read of a game played at a country house? The party
assembles round a table with pens, ink, and paper. Some one narrates a
tale containing more or less incidents and personages. Each person of
the company then writes down, to the best of his memory and ability,
the anecdote just narrated, and finally the papers are to be read out.
I do not say I should like to play often at this game, which might
possibly be a tedious and lengthy pastime, not by any means so amusing
as smoking a cigar in the conservatory; or even listening to the young
ladies playing their piano-pieces; or to Hobbs and Nobbs lingering
round the bottle and talking over the morning's run with the hounds;
but surely it is a moral and ingenious sport. They say the variety of
narratives is often very odd and amusing. The original story becomes so
changed and distorted that at the end of all the statements you are
puzzled to know where the truth is at all. As time is of small
importance to the c