I have travelled through the waving forests of Austria, miles of charming vineclad slopes in Hungary, acres of maize, rice, and tobacco fields near Salonica, the beautiful cypress groves of Scutari, near Constantinople, roamed over the wild mountains of Bosnia and Montenegro, through classic Greece and Italy, and traversed the burning sands of Africa; but, go where I will, nowhere is the general appearance of the country so beautiful as in old England, where we find the little cottage of the rustic so prettily embowered amidst fruit trees, shrubs and flowers, whilst all around are undulating green fields, rippling brooks, and winding rivers. Nowhere else is there anything to compare to our pretty country lanes and variegated hedgerows, covered with sweet-smelling hawthorn, the wild rose, honeysuckle, and the red berries of the ash, whilst the banks are adorned with foxgloves and beautiful ferns, or white with primroses, cowslips, and a thousand other wild flowers which surround fields of waving golden ears of corn and the well-wooded estates of the landed gentry, that in turn give shelter to the fox, who will afford sport in the winter, and to the hares, rabbits, partridges, and pheasants, who will assist in satiating our gastronomic propensities.
It is an Englishman’s privilege to grumble, and whilst living here we often find a great deal to grumble about, in politics particularly; but I don’t think there are many who, having travelled abroad continuously for six, twelve, or eighteen months, will not say with me, on returning home once more, “England, with all thy faults, I love thee still.”
“A plain unvarnished tale I have unfolded,” and as such, at this particular time, I trust it will meet with the approbation of the majority of my readers.
Many faults, I am sure, may be picked out, as I have not only written, but revised the book myself, instead of employing (as some do) a skilled and experienced reader. Even had I done so I should still be able to say—
“Whoever thinks a faultless piece to see,
Thinks what ne’er was, nor is, nor e’er shall be.”
FINIS.
ELEVENTH EDITION. NOW READY.