JULY. 237 



frolic and merry confusion have I seen at a 

 clumsy stile ! What exclamations ! and blushes, 

 and fine eventual vaulting on the part of the 

 ladies ! and what an opportunity does it afford 

 to beaux of exhibiting a variety of gallant and 

 delicate attentions ! I consider a rude stile as 

 any thing but an impediment in the course of 

 a rural courtship. 



Those good old turnstiles too can I ever 

 forget them? the hours I have spun round 

 upon them when a boy ! or those in which I 

 have almost laughed myself to death at the re- 

 membrance of my village pedagogue's disaster ! 

 Methinks I see him now ! the time a sultry 

 day, the domine a goodly person of some 

 eighteen or twenty stone, the scene a foot- 

 path sentinelled with turnstiles, one of which 

 held him fast as in amazement at his bulk. 

 Never shall I forget his efforts and agonies to 

 extricate himself; nor his lion-like roars which 

 brought some labourers to his assistance, who, 

 when they had recovered from their convul- 

 sions of laughter, knocked off the top of the 

 turnstile and let him go. It is long since I 

 saw a stile of this construction, and I suspect 

 the Falstaffs have cried them down. But 



