ponds
    that drives the poor suicides in! 
And after all an’t there new-laid eggs to be had
    upon Holborn Hill? 
And dairy-fed pork in Broad St. Giles’s, and fresh
    butter wherever you will? 
And a covered cart that brings Cottage Bread
    quite rustical-like and brown? 
So one isn’t so very uncountrified in the very
    heart of the town. 
Howsomever my mind’s made up, and although
    I’m sure cousin Giles will be vext,
I mean to book me an inside place up to town
    upon Saturday next,
And if nothing happens, soon after ten, I shall
    be at the Old Bell and Crown,
And perhaps I may come to the country again,
    when London is all burnt down!

A FLYING VISIT.

   “A Calendar! a Calendar! look in the Almanac, find
   out moonshine—­find out moonshine!”—­Midsummer
   Night’s Dream.

I.

      The by-gone September,
      As folks may remember,
At least if their memory saves but an ember,
      One fine afternoon,
      There went up a Balloon,
Which did not return to the Earth very soon.

II.

      For, nearing the sky,
      At about a mile high,
The Aeronaut bold had resolved on a fly;
      So cutting his string,
      In a Parasol thing
Down he came in a field like a lark from the wing.

III.

      Meanwhile, thus adrift,
      The Balloon made a shift
To rise very fast, with no burden to lift;
      It got very small,
      Then to nothing at all;
And then rose the question of where it would fall?

IV.

      Some thought that, for lack
      Of the man and his pack,
’Twould rise to the cherub that watches Poor Jack;
      Some held, but in vain,
      With the first heavy rain
’Twould surely come down to the Gardens again!

V.

      But still not a word
      For a month could be heard
Of what had become of the Wonderful Bird;
      The firm Gye and Hughes,
      Wore their boots out and shoes,
In running about and inquiring for news.

VI.

      Some thought it must be
      Tumbled into the Sea;
Some thought it had gone off to High Germanie
      For Germans, as shown
      By their writings, ’tis known
Are always delighted with what is high-flown.

VII.

      Some hinted a bilk,
      And that maidens who milk,
In far distant Shires would be walking in silk: 
      Some swore that it must,
      “As they said at the fust,
Have gone again’ flashes of lightning and bust!”