"Well, then, he'll jist as soon set down and jaw away by
the hour together with a dirty-faced, stupid little poodle
lookin' child, as if it was a nice spry little dog he
was a trainin' of for treein' partridges; or talk poetry
with the galls, or corn-law with the patriots, or any
thing. Nothin' comes amiss to him.

"But what provokes me, is to hear him go blartin' all
over the country about home scenes, and beautiful landscape,
and rich vardure. My sakes, the vardure here is so deep,
it looks like mournin'; it's actilly dismal. Then there's
no water to give light to the pictur, and no sun to cheer
it; and the hedges are all square; and the lime trees
are as stiff as an old gall that was once pretty, and
has grow'd proud on the memory of it.

"I don't like their landscape a bit, there ain't no natur
in it. Oh! if you go, take him along with you, for he
will put you in consait of all you see, except reform,
dissent, and things o' that kind; for he is an out and
out old Tory, and thinks nothin' can be changed here for
the better, except them that don't agree with him.

"He was a warnin' you t'other day not to take all I said
for Gospel about society here; but you'll see who's right
and who's wrong afore you've done, I know. I described
to you, when you returned from Germany, _Dinin' out_ to
London. Now I'll give you my opinion of "Life in the
Country." And fust of all, as I was a sayin', there is