somewhat proud,
To own the land which once I plough'd.
With money plenty in my bags,
I'd keep my gig and brace of nags;
My cellars should be duly stor'd,
And beef should smoke upon my board:
Besides I'd keep my pack of hounds--
Squire Homespun! Lord how fine it sounds!

Have it, said Susan, as you will;
But sure My Lord! sounds finer still;
Then I should be My Lady: Bless me,
How smart! how beautiful I'd dress me!
Such bonnets, mantles, ruffs, and puffs,
Such gowns, and furbelows, and muffs,
With chains and ear-rings, watch and broche,
And Madam Homespun in her coach:
So grand! so stately! who but me?
How mad my neighbour Barnes will be!

Peace, said the husband, pr'ythee, peace!
'Tis time this idle talk should cease:
Consider what we have at stake!
I fain some friend's advice would take:
At least we must be wise and wary,
As we were counsell'd by the fairy.
So hasten, dame, and fill the beaker,
And we'll discuss it o'er our liquor.

'Tis vain to trace each various plan
Which Susan form'd with her good man.
Or yet how oft they drain'd the cup,
Ere the long conference broke up:
But as opinions were divided,
The business still was undecided.
In this dilemma the result
Was--that their pillows they'd consult.
'Tis best to take more time to con it,
Quoth Homespun--so we'll sleep upon it:
Our choice requires the coolest head;
So rake the fire, and we'll to bed.

Susan, the happiest wife on earth,
Set all to rights, and brush'd her hearth;
And said, These embers burn so clear,
I WISH WE HAD A PUDDING HERE!
Methinks 'twould broil so clean and nice;
I'd make it ready in a trice;
She spoke--and in the chimney rumbled
A noise--and down a pudding tumbled!

The affrighted Susan stood amaz'd,
With tearful eyes, and hands uprais'd,
O'erwhelm'd with grief and self-reproach,
Farewell! to Madam in her coach!
Her tongue itself forgot its use,--
Tongue once so ready at excuse!

[Illustration]

Mean time the husband storm'd and rated,
Swearing no man was e'er so mated;
And call'd his spouse--like savage shameless,
By ugly words that must be nameless.
To throw our fortune thus away!
Aren't you a stupid idiot--hey?
Such want of thought your folly shows,
I WISH THE PUDDING ON YOUR NOSE!

The words escap'd, he gain'd his wish.
The pudding, rising from its dish,
On Goody Homespun's nose was