"'The people are clever who get up this festival, Men who sit toiling in science for weeks, Hold councils on cabbages, and (which is best of all) Speak upon salads and lecture on leeks; Who sit (without raillery), Vote upon celery, Clear out their gallery After debate-- Men who can grapple With onion or apple, And tell if the sap will Rise early or late.' "Off we started, the rain was just mizzling, Crack went the whips, and we rattled through Town; At Kensington coach-stand it faster was drizzling, At Kensington church, it began to come down; The post-boys were whipping, The post-horses slipping, The Halls were quite dripping At Hammersmith Gate; On we went dashing, And squashing and splashing, Till after this fashion We got to the _Fete_." Then there's a verse wanton, which of course I can't remember; but the Bow-street officers were all round the dore, and they looked to me as little like Bows as they did like officers; however, there was a large poodle to get over, and I heard them bid me wait till they sent for a Plank, which turned out to be a humane cretur, the head of the Pelisse. We had no umberellars, only our parisoles; but we got into a long tent, and there Fulmer told me I had better make my election to stay, because I was favoured both by the canvas and the pole; which I do not understand, but he put it all in rhyme about a "hujus encampment," something you know, I don't quite remember, to "keep off the damp meant;" and then he praised the bootiful cretures what was a setting in the mud under the yawning, which cood not get out, and called them the most elegant flowers and fruits of the day. It was no good a stopping ther however, for we was a mile a'most from the feeding place which Mr. Grunter had prepared for his fellow-creturs; so I determined wet or dry, nolus bolus, over I would go--it was uncommon squashy, and poor Lavy had a touch of the Room attics in her head before we come out, however it warnt no use complaining, so the two Hauls, which was phissitors of ours, and I, ondertook to cross over the plot--of that, Fulmer says-- "Cross the _green_ ocean amongst the carousers there, Oh! what a squabble, what pushing, what thumps; Dandies appropriately drest in _duck_ trowsers, were Making their way through the water in pumps. To see them a tripping, And sliding and slipping, With cold meat and dripping"----