CHAPTER V. 



" The voice of the city, the whifper of men, 

 I hear them, and hate them, and weary again 

 For the lull of the ftreams the breath of the brae 

 Brought down in a morning of May." 



STODDART. 



has not heard of certain vifi- 

 tors, whofe faces we poor Englifh 

 mortals are doomed to behold, 

 with fomewhat of the fame feel- 

 ings a farmer would behold fnow 

 in fummer the tax-gatherer, for inftance, come 

 to extract the laft milling from our purfes ; or 

 tooth-drawer, with his horrid apparatus, the laft 

 grinder we have left ? But what is this compared 

 with the vifit of one who is bent on dragging you, 

 at a moment's notice, from a nice, mug, warm bed 

 a noify difagreeable fellow, (it may be,) who 

 ftands grinning at you with the moft mifchievoufly 



