And Martin took us to parks so beautiful and grand that they took down Martin’s pride considerable, and us Jonesvillians, whose grassy acre in front of the meetin’-house had looked spacious to us, laid out as it wuz with young maples and slippery ellums—
But where wuz our pride, and where wuz Martin’s? Think of four hundred acres all full of beauty: that is Hyde Park. And Windsor Park, Queen Victoria’s door-yard, as you may say, has five hundred acres in it. Jest think on’t.
And there we’ve called our door-yard big, specially sence we moved the fence and took in the old gooseberry patch. I had boasted to neighborin’ wimmen that it must be nigh upon a quarter of a acre—but five hundred, the idee!
Wall, I’m glad I hain’t got to tend to it, and weed the poseys, and see that the grass is cut. But, then, she’s forehanded; she can afford to hire.
But, amongst all the parks we went to, Josiah and I seemed to like the Kew Gardens about as well as any.
I had deep emotions, for wuz it not there that Clive Newcome walked with Ethel? Her sweet form clost to him, but the dreary sea of Hopeless Despair a-surgin’ through his heart, a-seemin’ to wash her milds away from him, and she also, visey versey.
Poor young creeters! poor young hearts!
I seemed to see ’em a-walkin’ before me, with downcast heads and sad eyes, all up and down them lovely walks, jest as in Windsor Park I seemed to see the Merry Wives of Windsor, and poor old Falstaff a-settin’ out to meet ’em.
I seemed to look out with my mind’s eye for that poor, foolish, vain old creeter more’n I did for Victoria’s clothes, which I might have expected would be hung out to dry that day—it bein’ a Monday, and she sech a splendid housekeeper.
I have said what emotions rousted up in me as I went through Kew Gardens; as for Josiah, he liked ’em because he could git provisions here of all kinds—good ones, too, and cheap.