He Pressed Me To Give My Opinion Of Her, But I Sneaked Out Of It By Declaring That I Must See A Good Deal More Of The Lady Than I Was Ever Likely To See Before I Could Form An Opinion At All.

On coming down from the sanctuary one afternoon I heard the landlord's comic song, of which I have spoken above.

It was about the musical instruments in a band: the trumpet did this, the clarinet did that, the flute went tootle, tootle, tootle, and there was an appropriate motion of the hand for every instrument. I was a little disappointed with it, but the landlord said I was too serious and the only thing that would cure me was to learn the song myself. He said the butcher had learned it already, so it was not hard, which indeed it was not. It was about as hard as:

The battle of the Nile I was there all the while At the battle of the Nile.

I had to learn it and sing it (Heaven help me, for I have no more voice than a mouse!), and the landlord said that the motion of my little finger was very promising.

The chestnuts are never better than after harvest, when they are heavy-laden with their pale green hedgehog-like fruit and alive with people swarming among their branches, pruning them while the leaves are still good winter food for cattle. Why, I wonder, is there such an especial charm about the pruning of trees?

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