THE SWEETS OF COUNTRY LIFE
(Depicted by a Man of Feeling)
'Tis sweet at Summer eve to rove,
When brightly shines each twinkling star,
And, strolling through the silent grove,
Calmly to smoke a good cigar.
'Tis sweet upon the flowery mead
To see the tender lambkins play,
With pensive eye to watch them feed,
And note how plump to roast are they.
'Tis sweet the fallow deer to view,
Couched 'mid the fern in tranquil group;
'Tis sweet to hear the turtle's coo,
And meditate on turtle soup.
'Tis sweet, from cares domestic free,
While wandering by the streamlet's side,
The speckled trout or perch to see,
And think how nice they would be, fried.
'Tis sweet to mark the plover's flight,
Lone on the moor, its nest despoiled;
And with prospective mental sight
To contemplate its eggs, hard boiled.
'Tis sweet, beside the murmuring rill,
The scented violet to smell;
Yet may a perfume sweeter still
Attend the welcome dinner-bell!
The Country in the Future.—Retired Citizen (to Metropolitan Friend). "What I enjoy so much in the country is the quiet! Now here, in my garden, my boy, you don't hear a sound, 'cepting the trains!!"
Friends in Council.—Tom Lothbury (to Jack Billiter, who has "come in" to a nice little estate in Surrey, whereunto he intends retiring and rusticating). "You'll keep cows, I s'pose, and all that sort of thing?"
Jack. "Oh, no, can't bear milk."
Tom (who has a taste for the rural). "Cocks and hens, then?"
Jack. "No, hate eggs and puddings and all that!"
Tom. "Nor yet sheep?"
Jack. "Eh, ah! Oh, yes; I'll have a sheep, I'm vewy fond of kidneys for bweakfast!"
Query.—If you give two persons a seat in a cornfield, can this proceeding be called "setting them by the ears"?
Simple, but Agricultural.—Q. What is the best time for sowing tares?
A. When the landlord goes round and collects his rents.
Fox's Martyrs.—Ducks, fowls, turkeys, and geese.
Doctor. "Well, Matthew, did you take those pills I sent you yesterday?"
Patient. "Yes, doctor; but couldn't 'e do 'em up in something different? They little boxes be terrible hard to swallow!"
On the way to the Manse.—Deacon MacTavish (to Deacon MacBrose, after visiting several hospitable houses on their way). Hoot, mon Donald, yonder's the Meenister! Noo, I'll joost tek a few paces afore ye, in that ye may say gin my puir tired legs don't tremble.
Deacon MacBrose. Gae forrard, Sandy, gae forrard!
Deacon MacTavish (after stumbling ahead for several yards). Weel, Donald, hoo gae they?
Deacon MacBrose. Richt bonnily, Sandy, richt bonnily. But wha's the mon that's walking beside ye?
From the Mining Districts.—(Young Curate finds a Miner sitting on a gate smoking.)—Curate (desirous to ingratiate himself with one of his flock). A fine morning, my friend.
One of his flock gives the slightest nod, and a grunt, and spits.
Curate (supposing that he had not been heard). A fine morning, my good friend.
One of his flock. Did I say it warn't. Do you want to hargue, you beggar?
Lady. "And you say you have been brought to this by your wife?"
Tramp. "Yuss, lidy. I got 'er three good jobs, and 'er bloomin' independence lorst 'er the lot of 'em!"
Scene—The Hall of a Country House. Guests arriving for dinner.
Perkins (the extra man who is had in to help at most dinners given in the neighbourhood—confidentially but audibly). "Good evening, Miss Waters. There's some of that nice pudding here to-night, what last time you took twice of!"
The Bishop of Lichbury. "Really, it's very shocking to read in the papers so many painful cases of wife-beating and assault among the labouring classes!"
The Rev. Mr. Simmiel. "It is indeed, my lord. Indeed—ahem—with your lordship's permission, one might almost call them belabouring classes."
Parson. "Good morning, Mrs. Stubbins. Is your husband at home?"
Mrs. Stubbins. "'E's 'ome, sir; but 'e 's a-bed."
Parson. "How is it he didn't come to church on Sunday? You know we must have our hearts in the right place."
Mrs. Stubbins. "Lor, sir, 'is 'eart's all right. It's 'is trowziz!"
A Poacher's Paradise.—About an hour from town.—Charming bijou residence ... grounds adjoin a large pheasant preserve; owner going abroad.—Advt. in "Standard."
"A Crop Expert."—A professional hair-dresser.
