First, Widow Higgins, with her daughters three,
Bedizen'd out as fine as fine could be,
Came on her low-back'd car, with feather-bed,
And ornamental quilt upon it spread.
She look'd a queen from the luxurious East
Reclining on an ottoman:—the beast
That drew her, chicks and all, drew seventy stone at least!
And he to horse was what to man is monkey,
In epics 't would be bathos, or I'd call him donkey.
But (who can read the secret book of Fate?)