nhales the fumes of hot punch, the
smoke of half a dozen pipes, and the dust from the road. If this is not
rural felicity, what is? The old gentleman in a black bag-wig, and the
two women near him, sensibly enough, take their seats in the open air.

From a woman milking a cow, we conjecture the hour to be about five in
the afternoon: and, from the same circumstance, I am inclined to think
this agreeable party is going to their pastoral bower, rather than
returning from it.

The cow and dog appear as much inconvenienced by heat as any of the
party: the former is whisking off the flies; and the latter creeps
unwillingly along, and casts a longing look at the crystal river, in
which he sees his own shadow. A remarkably hot summer is intimated by
the luxuriant state of a vine, creeping over an alehouse window. On the
side of the New River, where the scene is laid, lies one of the wooden
pipes employed in the water-works. Opposite Sadler's Wells there still
remains the sign of Sir Hugh Middleton's head, which is here
represented; but how changed the scene from what is here represented!

[Illustration: EVENING.]

NIGHT.

Now burst the blazing bonfires on the sight,
Through the wide air their corruscations play;
The windows beam with artificial light,
And all the region emulates the day.

The moping mason, from yon tavern led,
In mystic words doth to the moon complain
That unsound port distracts his aching head,
And o'er the waiter waves his clouded cane.

Mr. Walpole very truly observes, that this print is inferior to the
three others; there is, however, broad humour in some of the figures.

The wounded free-mason, who, in zeal of brotherly love, has drank his
bumpers to the craft till he is unable to find his way home, is under
the guidance of a waiter. This has been generally considered as intended
for Sir Thomas de Veil, and, from an authenticated portrait which I have
seen, I am, says Mr. Ireland, inclined to think it is, notwithstanding
Sir John Hawkins asserts, that "he could discover no resemblance." When
the knight saw him in his magisterial capacity, he was probably sober
and sedate; here he is represented a little disguised. The British
Xantippe showering her favours from the window upon his head, may have
its source in that respect which the inmates of such houses as the
Rummer Tavern had for a justice of peace. On the resignation of Mr.
Horace Walpole, in