Yes, ye castle-builders! look upon his undone condition and take warning. Take warning, parents, and bring up your children to suit the sphere in which they are to move. I shall not trouble you with the why and the wherefore of his present condition, but suffice it to say that such it is, and then picture to yourself the untold miseries he must endure when I depict to you the sort of life he is leading, with such passions as I have already described his ruling ones to be. _Imprimis_: there is Peg--but I had better say as little as possible of her, {156} out of respect for the ladies and out of regard for my friend, because in truth like "Jerry Sneak," he has not eaten a "_bit of under crust since he was married_," but follow me if you please upon his farm, and let me introduce you to his plagues and tormentors. Let us look for the overseer--we shall find him, if at home, which is seldom the case, seated on a _stump_, with the symbol of his office under his arm. There he is, you see, mounted on his throne lazily looking at the laborers; working the land to death by injudicious cultivation; extorting the last drop of vitality from it; a foe to every species of improvement, and obstinately bent upon going on in the jog trot of his predecessors. This is Castellanus' companion _ex necessitate_. Shades of the Orvilles and Mortimers! pity him. What can there be in common between them? What can they talk about? About Evelina and Amanda?--cottages covered with woodbine and honeysuckle?--landscapes and glorious sunsets?--the warbling of birds?--Oh no, Suk and Sall, negro cabins or pig-styes, corn fields and----yes, they _can_ talk of birds, but they are blackbirds and crows, and devil take their warbling--of sunset, but only to lament the shortness of the days. His (the overseer's) themes are rogues and runaways--he is eloquent upon hog-stealing, and neither Simon Sensitive nor Timothy Testy could recount more readily the miseries of human life. His are the miseries of Geoponies. Rot--rust--weevil--fly and cutworm, haunt his imagination and dwell upon his tongue. Castellanus had rather be a dog and bay the moon than discuss such subjects. But my friend's delight was once in horses; it was one of the few pleasures he had. His fancy was early captivated by Alexander mounting Bucephalus; a horse gaily caparisoned and mounted by a steel clad knight, was a sight upon which his imagination feasted. The red roan charger of Marmion at the battle of Flodden had thrilled his every nerve, "Blood shot his eyes--his nostril spread The loose rein, dangling from his head Housing and saddle bloody red."