with a _well-informed
passenger_, which is an accident so desirable in a stage coach. We were
rather less communicative, but still friendly, the rest of the way.

KING DAVID AND THE GARDENER
[Sidenote: _Anon._]

Vrom readin' Scripture well Oi knows
Pzalmist 'e had na rest vrom voes;
Vor po-or ole Dave gre-at pits they'd delve,
An' then, dam loons, vail in theirselve.
This iz ma readin' ov the Book,
An' to ma self do mak' me look;
Wi' dew respeck, Oi veel loike him,
Tho' later born, and deal more slim.

Vor ev'ry day, wi' buzz an' hum,
Into ma garden voes do come;
The waspies starm ma gabled wall
An' into t' trenches t' grub do crawl.
The blackbird, sparrer, tit, an' thrush
Do commandeer each curran' bush,
While slugs off lettuce take their smack,
And maggots turn the celery black.

Wi' greenfly zlimin' roun' ma roses,
An' earwigs pokin' be-astly noses
In dahlias vit vor virst at Show,
Oi ha' ma troubles, as yew may know;
But Dave did circumwent the Devil,
An' wi' ma insecks Oi get level,
Lard! wi' what piety Oi tend 'em,
An' wi' ma boot rejoicin' end 'em!

Zo, maister gets his dish o' peas,
An' mum her roses, if yew please,
But, lawks, they little knaw, Oi 'speck,
What Oi've laid out in intelleck;
But Dave got little praise vrom man,
An' as Oi ta-ake ma wat'rin'-can,
Oi zays, zays Oi, next world wull show
Who wuz tip-tappers here below.

THE CALAIS NIGHT-BOAT
[Sidenote: _Charles Dickens_]

It is an unsettled question with me whether I shall leave Calais
something handsome in my will, or whether I shall leave it my
malediction. I hate it so much, and yet I am always so very glad to see
it, that I am in a state of constant indecision on this subject. When I
first made acquaintance with Calais it was as a maundering young wretch
in a clammy perspiration and dripping saline particles, who was
conscious of no extremities but the one great extremity,
sea-sickness--who was a mere bilious torso, with a mislaid headache
somewhere in its stomach--who had been put into a horrible swing in
Dover Harbour, and had tumbled giddily out of it on the French coast, or
the Isle of Man, or anywhere. Times have changed, and now I enter Calais
self-reliant and rational. I know where it is beforehand, I keep a
look-out for it, I recognise its landmarks when I see any of them, I am
acquainted with its ways, and I know--and I can bear--its worst
behaviour.