CIV.--Purely indeed, and with rare pastoral dreams. I have done nothing but walk through pleasant groves, or sit me down under shady boughs, the whole livelong night. A foretaste, my friend, of the rural delights yet to come, in strolling with you amongst the dainty shades of this your verdant retreat. How have I yearned all through the month of June, to be a Jack-i’-the-Green again amidst your leaves here! You know my prospect in town. SYL.--Aye, truly; I did once spend, or rather misspend a whole week there in the dog-days. You looked out opposite on a scorching brick front of six stories, with a south aspect--studded with I know not how many badges of Assurance from fire, and not without need--for the shop windows below seemed all a-blaze with geranium-coloured silks, at that time the mode, and flamme d’enfer. The left-hand shop, next door, was all red, likewise, with regiments of lobsters, in their new uniforms; beyond that, a terrible flaring Red Lion, newly done up with paint. At the next door, a vender of red morocco pocket-books--my eyes were in a scarlet fever, the whole time of my sojourning. CIV.--A true picture, I confess. We are, indeed, a little strong in the warm tints; but they give the more zest to your suburban verdure. All the way down overnight, I thought only of the two tall elm trees beside your gate, and which have always been to my city optics as refreshing as a pair of green spectacles. Surely of all spots I have seen, Camberwell is the greenest, as the poet says, that ever laid hold of Memory’s waist. SYL.--It hath been greener aforetime. But I pray you sit down and fall to.--Shall I help you to some of this relishing salted fish? CIV.--By your good leave, Sylvanus, I will first draw up these blinds. My bed-room, you know, looks out only to the road, and I am longing to help my eyes, to a little of what, as a citizen, I may truly call the green fat of nature. SYL.--Nay, Civis--I pray you let the blinds alone. The rolls are getting cold. This ham is excellently well cured, and the eggs are new-laid. Come, take a seat. CIV.--I beseech your patience for one moment. There the blind is up. What a brave flood of sunshine--and what a glorious blue sky!--What a rare dainty day to roam abroad in, dallying with the Dryads!--But what do I behold! Oh, my Sylvanus, the Dryads are stripped of their green kirtles--stark naked! The trees are all bare, God help me! as bare as the “otamies in Surgeons’ Hall!” SYL.--You would take no forewarning--I bade you not pull up the blind. It was my intent to have broken the truth to you, after you had made a full meal; but now you must to breakfast with what appetite you may! CIV.--As I hope to see Paradise--there is not a green bough between this and Peckham!