There's the other day, for my sight is short, and I saw what was green beyond,

And thought it was all terry firmer and grass, till I walked in the duckweed pond :

Or perhaps when I've pully-hauled up a bank they see me come launching down,

As none but a stout London female can do as is come a first time out of town.

Then how sweet, some say, on a mossy bank a verdurous seat to

find,

But for my part I always found it a joy that brought a repentance

behind;

For the juicy grass with its nasty green has stained a whole breadth of my gown

And when gowns are dyed, I needn't say, it's much better done up

in town.

As for country fare, the first morning I came I heard such a shrill piece of work!

And ever since--and it's ten days ago-we've lived upon nothing but pork;

One Sunday except, and then I turn'd sick, a plague take all countrified cooks!

Why didn't they tell me, before I had dined, they made pigeon pies of the rooks?

Then the gooseberry wine, tho' it's pleasant when up, it doesn't agree when it's down,

But it served me right, like a gooseberry, fool to look for champagne out of town?

To be sure cousin G. meant it all for the best when he started this

pastoral plan,

And his wife is a worthy domestical soul and she teaches me all that she can,

Such as making of cheese, and curing of hams, but I'm sure that I never shall learn,

And I've fetch'd more back-ache than butter as yet by chumping away at the churn:

But in making hay, tho' it's tanning work, I found it more easy to

make,

But it tries one's legs, and no great relief when you're tired to sit

down on the rake.

I'd a country dance, too, at harvest home, with a regular country

clown,

But, Lord! they don't hug one round the waist and give one such

smacks in town:

Then I've tried to make friends with the birds 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 hand 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 stalks all about, and I can't help dreaming of Swing

In short, I think that a pastoral life is not the most happiest thing; For, besides all the troubles I've mentioned before, as endured for

rurality's sake,

I've been stung by the bees, and I've set among ants, and onceugh! I trod on a snake!

And as to mosquitoes, 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, 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.

THE DOCTOR

A SKETCH.

"Whatever is, is right."-POPE.

HERE once was a Doctor,
(No foe to the proctor,)
A physic concocter,

Whose dose was so pat,

However it acted,

One speech it extracted,—

"Yes, yes," said the doctor,
"I meant it for that!"

And first, all "unaisy,"
Like woman that's crazy,
In flies Mistress Casey,
"Do come to poor Pat
The blood's running faster!
He's torn off the plaster-"
"Yes, yes," said the Doctor,
"I meant it for that!"

Anon, with an antic,

Quite strange and romantic,
A woman comes frantic-

"What could you be at? My darling dear Aleck, You've sent him oxalic!"

"Yes, yes," said the Doctor, "I meant it for that!"

Then in comes another,
Dispatch'd by his mother,
A blubbering brother,
Who gives a rat-tat—
"Oh, poor little sister
Has lick'd off a blister!"
"Yes, yes," said the Doctor,
"I meant it for that!"

Now home comes the flunkey,

His own powder-monkey,

But dull as a donkey

With basket and that

"The draught for the Squire, Sir, He chuck'd in the fire, Sir-" "Yes, yes," said the Doctor, I meant it for that!"

The next is the pompous
Head Beadle, old Bumpus-
"Lord! here is a rumpus:
That pauper, Old Nat,
In some drunken notion
Has drunk up his lotion-"
"Yes, yes," said the Doctor,
I meant it for that!"

At last comes a servant,
In grief very fervent :
"Alas! Doctor Derwent,
Poor Master is flat!

He's drawn his last breath, Sir

That dose was his death, Sir."

"Yes, yes," said the Doctor, "I meant it for that!"

LAYING DOWN THE LAW.

-"I am Sir Oracle,

And when I ope my lips let no dog bark."

MERCHANT OF VENICE.

"If thou wert born a Dog, remain so; but if thou wert born a Man, resume thy former shape."-ARABIAN NIGHTS.

POODLE, Judge-like, with emphatic paw,
Dogmatically laying down the law,—

A batch of canine Counsel 1ound the table,
Keen-eyed, and sharp of nose, and long of jaw,
At sight, at scent, at giving tongue, right able:
O, Edwin Landseer, Esquire, and R.A.,
Thou great Pictorial sop, say,

What is the moral of this painted fable?
O, say, accomplished artist!

Was it thy purpose, by a scene so quizzical,
To read a wholesome lesson to the Chartist,

So over partial to the means called Physical,
Sticks, staves, and swords, and guns, the tools of treason?
To show, illustrating the better course,

The very Brutes abandoning Brute Force,
The worry and the fight,

The bark and bite,

In which, says Doctor Watts, the dogs delight,

And lending shaggy ears to Law and Reason,
As uttered in that Court of high antiquity
Where sits the Chancellor, supreme as Pope,

But works-so let us hope

In equity, not iniquity?

Or was it but a speculation

On transmigration,

How certain of our most distinguished Daniels,
Interpreters of Law's bewildering book,
Would look

Transformed to mastiffs, setters, hounds, and spaniels

(As Brahmins in their Hindoo code advance) With that great lawyer of the Upper House Who rules all suits by equitable nous,

Become-like vile Armina's spouse