A JOURNAL KEPT IN THE COUNTRY. 2Ip 



Bests, the poison of whose decay yet works among us. 

 The Averys, 



" Humiles, vulgi pars ultima nostri," 



still thrive in all corners of the county ; and the old 

 man's sons, whom he left cutting the oats at home 

 to-day, bid fair to carry on their branch of the tribe 

 still sound and vigorous. 



By this we were come into the market, and I 

 descended amid the hubbub of men and beasts, the 

 distraught cattle and huddling sheep, the pigs who 

 never in direst misfortune quite lose their sense of 

 humour, and whose most agonising yells seem to 

 contain a note of the burlesque. I passed the Bank 

 and the attorney's office, with their knots of clients 

 hanging about the doors, and addressed myself to 

 the task of arguing with the young gentlemen of 

 the Emporium as to what my wishes were. The 

 swinish chorus from the market-pens shrieked 

 momently behind me, a jocose undertone becoming 

 decidedly more perceptible as the new arrivals 

 settled into their lodgings, and forgot the ash-plants 

 and tail-pullings of their conductors. Something 

 might be said, I think, for their rationale. Perhaps 

 the sense of humour may ultimately prove a 

 better defence against our more trivial and diurnal 



