is the same as yesterday, only stupider, if that's
possible; and that is Life in the Country.

"How the plague can it be otherwise than dull? If there
is nothin' to see, there can't be nothin' to talk about.
Now the town is full of things to see. There is Babbage's
machine, and Bank Governor's machine, and the Yankee
woman's machine, and the flyin' machine, and all sorts
of machines, and galleries, and tunnels, and mesmerisers,
and theatres, and flower-shows, and cattle-shows, and
beast-shows, and every kind of show, and what's better
nor all, beautiful got-up women, and men turned out in
fust chop style, too.

"I don't mean to say country women ain't handsum here,
'cause they be. There is no sun here; and how in natur'
can it be otherways than that they have good complexions.
But it tante safe to be caged with them in a house out
o' town. Fust thing you both do, is to get spooney, makin'
eyes and company-faces at each other, and then think of
matin', like a pair of doves, and that won't answer for
the like of you and me. The fact is, Squire, if you want
to see _women_, you musn't go to a house in the country,
nor to mere good company in town for it, tho' there be
first chop articles in both; but you must go among the
big bugs the top-lofty nobility, in London; for since
the days of old marm Eve, down to this instant present
time, I don't think there ever was or ever will be such
splendiferous galls as is there. Lord, the fust time I
seed 'em it put me in mind of what happened to me at New