n the City)
And chaff his daughters in his usual style;
Minutiae omitted in this ditty,
For to relate 'twould not be worth the while,
I therefore must, my reader, meet you with denial.

XX.

The window,--French they called it, I'm not sure
If such in France are often to be seen,
Not quite a window, but more like a door,
'Twould do for both, whichever one they mean,--
Opened upon a lawn of smiling green,
Which, with a modest rockery behind,
Displayed, in fact, a most enchanting scene
To those who were at all that way inclined,
With such artistic taste was it indeed designed.

XXI.

Then with the arbour's rustic-like assistance,
And nimble Cupid with his bow close by,
The various colours melting in the distance
Lent quite a pleasing aspect to the eye,
And perhaps produced the very faintest sigh
For such-like beauties on a larger scale,
Where sweeping meadows meet the azure sky,
And florid milk-maids bear their bounteous pail,
And breezes waft the sound of winnow and of flail.

XXII.

'Twas here papa did often love to wander,
First in the shade, now in the pleasant sun,
And peep at this and that, and hurry yonder,
To see some potting properly begun;
He strolled to-day, a regular _Big Gun_,
Around the precincts of his bright domain,
His egg and toast dispatched. (Forgive the pun,
I promise I won't do the same again;
Frivolities like these oft run across the grain.)

XXIII.

Recovered? Yes?--So glad! Three daughters knitting,
Like three white butterflies upon the breeze
With evidently some design, came skipping
Round by the arbour in amongst the trees,
And if the truth were really known, to seize
Their innocent papa just thereabout;
'Tis wonderful how daughters coax and tease
At such auspicious times; I have no doubt
They stroked his handsome whiskers with a pretty pout.

XXIV.

_(No. 1 Daughter.)_ "Papa dear, don't you find the heat oppressive?
So thoroughly enjoyable you say,
I really think it's something quite excessive,
Much worse, in fact, than it was yesterday;
It quite upsets me;--no, I'm not in play,
Indeed I've been quite indisposed of late,
And vexed with ailments many and many a day,
With troublesome _ennui_ and _mal-a-tete_,
The Doctor thinks my nerves are in a wretched state!"

XXV.

_(No. 2 Daughter.)_ "Indeed 'tis so my dearest dear Papa,
We one and all seem quite to be upset,
'Tis hotter than last summer was by far,
At least so everybody says, but yet
Much hotter