ROBERT UNDER THE GREENWOOD TREE.
Me and a werry old Frend of mine has seized the hoppertoonity that ardly ever okkers to too frends as has little or nothink to do for a hole week, to thurrowly enjoy theirselves for that time, and see weather sutten places in our little world is reelly as butiful and as injoyable as sum peeple tries to make out as they is. Our fust place was Epping Forrest, where we spent a hole day from morning to nite in what my frend called such a gallaxy of buty and wunder as werry likely werry few peeple ever has injoyd as we did. We spent hole miles among the most butiful Forest Trees as was ever seed, every single tree of which was rather more butiful than the last, and not one of which but what was a reel bootiful studdy. It took us jest about two hours to eat our dinner afore we set to work again to pollish off the lovely trees we had not yet seen; and then, when we had pollished off the last of them, we staggered to our werry last carridge, and took the sleep of the Just, and did not wake up till Brekfust come kindly to our assistance, and helped us to sett out and try again to dishcover similar seens of delishus injoyment to those so marwellusly injoyed the day before!
The trees as we xamined on the secund day was quite a diffrent class to them on the fust, and emused us every bit as delifefully as the fust sett, tho they was quite a diffrent sett altogether. In won place we drove bang into the wery middel of the thickest wood, and there we both lost ourselves for nearly three ours, but it wasn't a minnet too much for us, for we both agreed that, upon the hole, it was about the werry loveliest part of the hole day's proceedens, and that we shoud not regret havin to repeat it the next day. Oh them hundereds and thowsends of lovely Trees! every one of which seems far more butiful than the last, and quite equal to any we had yet seen. At one place we was showed the place where Good Quean Alizebeth always went up stairs on Orseback, coz she did not like going up stairs in public. At another we was showed where the present Queen sat in her privet Carridge, and made the hole nayberhood bow to her by the hunderd. Tom and Me both went up to the werry place, and pinted it out to them as didn't kno it, which made us both feel werry grand. The werry next day we had made all our derangements for follering up our prewius wisitashun, and making a grand fi-nayle of the hole lovely affare, when, to our tremenjus disapintment, the wind begun for to blow most orfully, and the rain begun for to rain wus as I beleeves, and as Tom beleeves, than ewer it did afore, and so we was both obleeged for to leeve our truly lovely forests, and defer our tree climing till a much more drier hoppertoonity, which we both bleeves will appear in about a week, and then we shall renew our grand old wisit as before, and lern again to beleeve in our hundereds and thowsends of the most buteful trees as ewen old hingland can brag about, as the most lovelyest as the world ewer saw.
And to think that all the lovely places as we seed in them three lovely days is past and gorn for the present, makes us long only the more artily for the glorius days still in store for us!
Robert.
Sergeant-Major and Mrs. Baker were one of a trio of couples successful in winning their claim to the prize of a flitch of bacon at Dunmow. Three hundred and sixty-six days of married life without a flitch—we should say, hitch—in the flow of amicable intercourse is, nowadays, a marvellous achievement, and merits due recognition. We, however, commiserate the gallant and hambitions sergeant-major on having his matrimonial intentions aspersed by the opposing counsel, who, in attempting to "save the bacon," suggested that "Baker had one eye on the lady and the other eye on the flitch." The prospect of a reward even "more lasting than ham" would hardly, it is to be feared, serve to keep ordinary couples from "tiffs" for the space of a year and a day continuously.
