upon a career of wild and reckless
uncertainty which compels me to eat eggs from twelve to twenty-four
hours old, just as if I were in London.

Alas for the rarity
Of regularity
Under the sun!

A hen, being of the feminine gender, underestimates the majesty of order
and system; she resents any approach to the unimaginative monotony of
the machine. Probably the Confederated Fowl Union has been meddling
with our little paradise where Labour and Capital have dwelt in heavenly
unity until now. Nothing can be done about it, of course; even if it
were possible to communicate with the fowl, she would say, I suppose,
that she would lay when she was ready, and not before; at least, that is
what an American hen would say.

Just as I was brooding over these mysteries and trying to hatch out some
conclusions, Mrs. Bobby knocked at the door, and, coming in, curtsied
very low before saying, "It's about namin' the 'ouse, miss."

"Oh yes. Pray don't stand, Mrs. Bobby; take a chair. I am not very
busy; I am only painting prickles on my gorse bushes, so we will talk it
over."

I shall not attempt to give you Mrs. Bobby's dialect in reporting my
various interviews with her, for the spelling of it is quite beyond my
powers. Pray remove all the h's wherever they occur, and insert
them where they do not; but there will be, over and beyond this, an
intonation quite impossible to render.

Mrs. Bobby bought her place only a few months ago, for she lived in
Cheltenham before Mr. Bobby died. The last incumbent had probably been
of Welsh extraction, for the cottage had been named 'Dan-y-cefn.' Mrs.
Bobby declared, however, that she wouldn't have a heathenish name posted
on her house, and expect her friends to pronounce it when she couldn't
pronounce it herself. She seemed grieved when at first I could not see
the absolute necessity of naming the cottage at all, telling her that in
America we named only grand places. She was struck dumb with amazement
at this piece of information, and failed to conceive of the confusion
that must ensue in villages where streets were scarcely named or houses
numbered. I confess it had never occurred to me that our manner of doing
was highly inconvenient, if not impossible, and I approached the subject
of the name with more interest and more modesty.

"Well, Mrs. Bobby," I began, "it is to be Cottage; we've decided that,
have we not? It is to be Cottage, not House, Lodge, Mansion, or Villa.
W