And sing and dance from day to day,
And laugh from ear to ear!
JUNE.—Haymaking.
| JUNE. | [1837. | |||
|---|---|---|---|---|
| Pattern of patience,—placid punter,—say, | ||||
| Since early dawn, when thou didst take thy stand, | ||||
| How many nibbles hast thou had? I pray,— | ||||
| How many minnows hast thou brought to land? | ||||
| Not one!—yet comfort thee, Piscator bold; | ||||
| One thing, at least, you're sure to catch,—a cold! | ||||
| D. | Great Events and Odd Matters. | Prognostifications. | ||
| 1 |  | Crib | ||
| 2 | squaring | |||
| 3 | Transit of Venus. A ship-load of Vestals consigned to Van Diemen's land. | to Gully | ||
| 4 |  | ☍ □ ♂ ☉ | ||
| 5 | had a more | |||
| 6 | sinster | |||
| 7 | aspect than | |||
| 8 | Sun rises 3 h. 48 m. | Mercury | ||
| 9 | I wish my Son would rise as soon, | squaring to | ||
| To breathe the balmy air of June,— | ||||
| 10 | The lazy dog! | Mars? | ||
| Not snoring half his hours away, | ||||
| 11 | Lie like a torpid lump of clay, | ♎ ♃ ☿ | ||
| Or old King Log. | ||||
| 12 | To rouse the sluggard from his nest, | Then, | ||
| I've all things tried, and done my best,— | ||||
| 13 | The prig! | as touching | ||
| I've stripped the clothes, in hopes he'd mend; | ||||
| 14 | I've given him strap,—a thick rope's end,— | THE | ||
| Cold pig! | ||||
| 15 | In vain!—There lies the stupid clown, | WEATHER | ||
| As if the Night Mare held him down. | ||||
| 16 | ♈ ☍ | |||
| 17 | ♈ ☍ | |||
| 18 | Battle of Waterloo. Lobsters in season. |  | what better | |
| 19 |  | index | ||
| 20 | need we of | |||
| 21 | Daniel Lambert died. Grand Diet of Worms. | ♂ ☉ ♉ ♋ | ||
| 22 |  | The grave-digger fled, all a-shiv'ring and shaking, | its | |
| For old Mother Earth she cried, | ||||
| 23 | With a terrible groan: "Why the deuce are you making | evershifting | ||
| This precious big hole in my side!" | ||||
| 24 | ♊ ♒ △ | |||
| 25 | Quarter Day. Moon hides behind a cloud, for fear of being shot. | variable | ||
| 26 | variations | |||
| 27 | ☿ □ ☊ ♍ | |||
| than the | ||||
| 28 | Ha! my lad, you've caught a Tartar, | countenance | ||
| Landlords never give no quarter. | ||||
| 29 | of | |||
| 30 | Spouse? | |||
MISS AMELIA SMITH TO MISS JULIA SMYTHE.
"Dearest Julia,—Since that very unpleasant affair of pa's bankruptcy, which made it so disagreeable to stop in town, I have really not had a moment to spare. I take the first opportunity to tell you that our farming goes on quite as well as might be expected; and I hope in a few years we shall be able to hold up our heads again in our dear native Tooley Street, and among our friends at dear No. 29½.
"Haymaking is just over, and such fun! Oh, how I wished for you, dear Julia! you would so have liked it!—tedding, and windrowing, and staddle-rowing, and quilling, and above all, being rolled about and tumbled to bits by the young Browns, our handsome neighbours, who kindly offered their assistance on this occasion. Young Edwin, who paid particular attention to me, and squeezed my best transparent muslin bonnet to a mummy, and tore my green silk frock all to rags, is one of the nicest young men in these parts, and a great favourite with us all. Pa and ma sat on a bank directing our proceedings out of a book pa's got, which tells you all about farming, and agriculture, and everything. I am head shepherdess, and go out every morning with my crook and Spanish guitar, and sit all day long on a bank playing to the sheep and lambs; young Edwin Brown generally coming and keeping me company with his German flute, which makes it very pleasant. Besides having the care of the flocks, I am put in charge of the eggs and poultry; but, though I have every reason to believe that our hens lay regularly, I cannot for the life of me find their nests: and I assure you I have searched over and over again in all the trees about the premises. The only eggs I have been able to get were some brought in by pa the other day, and which I immediately set under a Bantam hen; but, unfortunately, they turned out nothing but snakes. Also a second lot, picked up by brother John in one of his walks, which unluckily proving to be pheasants, poor John has been informed against by a neighbouring gamekeeper, and will have to pay goodness knows what penalty, and has got the character of a poacher into the bargain. What a fuss is here about poaching a few eggs!
"My geese also have been very disappointing, though we have had the tank in front of the house carefully covered in with invisible wire for their accommodation, where they are kept night and day, and have fresh water given them every morning. Ducks likewise don't go on very swimmingly; and as to our horned cattle, things have gone very crooked. Pa bought a lot of cows, and thereby hangs a tale, for on bringing them up to milk we couldn't get a drop; and on inquiry found that he ought to have bought milch cows, and not feeding cows, which are only used for making beef of. But he soon bought others, and we have now a very good dairy, and Lucy is quite pat at making butter, but mamma is rather green at making cheese.
"Brother John attends the markets—not that we have anything to sell—but it is considered regular; and indeed he makes a regular thing of it by getting tipsy every market day. Emily, who, you know, was always very fond of birds, bought a lot of pigeons, and a tame hawk, and a jackdaw; but, unfortunately, the hawk got one day into the dovecot, and killed every one of the pigeons; and the jackdaw has stolen all our silver forks and spoons. Brother John purchased a lot more pigeons at the market, which flew away the next morning; and pa, in his rage, wrung the jackdaw's neck, so that we are safe to see no more of our forks and spoons.