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 soon. II. For, nearing the sky, At about a mile high, The Aeronaut bold had resolved on a fly; So cutting his string, In a Parasol thing Down he came in a field like a lark from the wing. III. Meanwhile, thus adrift, The Balloon made a shift To rise very fast, with no burden to lift; It got very small, Then to nothing at all; And then rose the question of where it would fall? IV. Some thought that, for lack Of the man and his pack, 'Twould rise to the cherub that watches Poor Jack; Some held, but in vain, With the first heavy rain 'Twould surely come down to the Gardens again! V. But still not a word For a month could be heard Of what had become of the Wonderful Bird; The firm Gye and Hughes, Wore their boots out and shoes, In running about and inquiring for news. VI.