“The lob-worm inquired, with a conceited wriggle, what could be the merits of a country, where gentlemanly, gliding, thin-skinned creatures like himself were unable to move about without personal annoyance? Whereupon the amiable ‘something’ made no scruple of telling the lob-worm that his betters found no fault with the place, and instanced its friend and admirer the Alderney cow.
“On which the lob-worm affected forgetfulness, and exclaimed, ‘Cow? cow? do I know the creature? Ah! Yes, I recollect now; clumsy legs, horny feet, and that sort of thing,’ proceeding to hint that what was good enough for a cow, might yet not be refined enough for his own more delicate habits.
“‘It is my misfortune, perhaps,’ concluded he, with mock humility, ‘to have been accustomed to higher associations; but really, situated as I am here, I could almost feel disposed to—why, positively, to wish myself a cow, with clumsy legs and horny feet. What one may live to come to, to be sure!’
“Well,” Aunt Judy proceeded, “will you believe it, the lob-worm went on boasting till the poor deluded ‘something’ believed every word he said, and at last ventured to ask in what favoured spot he had acquired his superior tastes and knowledge.
“And then, of course, the lob-worm had the opportunity of opening out in a very magnificent bit of brag, and did not fail to do so.
“Travellers can always boast with impunity to stationary folk, and the lob-worm had no conscience about speaking the truth.
“So on he chattered, giving the most splendid account of the garden in which he lived. Gorgeous flowers, velvet lawns, polished gravel-walks, along which he was wont to take his early morning stroll, before the ruder creatures of the neighbourhood, such as dogs, cats, &c. were up and about, were all his discourse; and he spoke of them as if they were his own, and told of the nursing and tending of every plant in the lovely spot, as if the gardeners did it all for his convenience and pleasure.
“Of the little accidents to which he and his race have from time immemorial been liable from awkward spades, or those very early birds, by whom he ran a risk of being snapped up every time he emerged out of the velvet lawns for the morning strolls, he said just nothing at all.
“All was unmixed delight (according to his account) in the garden, and having actually boasted himself into good humour with himself, and therefore with everybody else, he concluded by expressing the condescending wish, that the ‘something’ in the field should get itself removed to the garden, to enjoy the life of which he spoke.
“‘Undeniably beautiful as you are here,’ cried he, ‘your beauty will increase a thousand fold, under the gardener’s fostering care. Appreciated as you are now in your rustic life, the most prominent place will be assigned to you when you get into more distinguished society; so that everybody who passes by and sees you, will exclaim in delight, ‘Behold this exquisite—hm—!’”