And not being over patient of bad English,
And holding still that sapere is the basis
Of all good writing whether prose or verse,
I soon grew weary and threw down the paper,
And on my way to Schwyz sped and no more
Thought of the gap in the clouds or of the writer.

Walking from KÜSSNACHT to LUCERNE, Sept. 21, 1854.

"I'll take mine ease in mine inn."

IN mine ínn I'll take mine eáse,
Ín mine ínn do what I please;
Ín mine ínn my pipe I'll smoke,
Read the news and cráck my jóke,
Eát my púdding, drink my wine,
Go to bed when Í inclíne,
And if Í the bármaid kiss

Whó 's to say I did amiss?

When to visit yoú I gó

Knock knock knóck! door 's ánswered slów: ---

"Máster Mistress nót at hóme;

Don't know when back they will cóme;

Cáll again at six, seven, eight;

Álmost súre they 'll stay out láte."

When to visit mé you cóme
Ánd by chance find mé at hóme
Í must sit and wait on you
Máybe a good hour or twó;
Lét my business préss or nót
Thére I ám, nailed to the spót,

And my wife and children too,
Paying compliments to you.

Tó my inn door when I cóme
Í enquire not whó 's at home,
Walk in straight, hang up my hát,
Órder this and órder thát,

Right before the fire sit down,
Cáll the waiter loút and lówn
if I múst five minutes wait
Ére the chóp smokes ón my pláte.

Hím that first invénted inns
Gód forgive him áll his síns;
When he comes to Páradise gáte,
Early let it bé or láte,

Good Saint Péter, ópen straight;
"Twére a sháme to máke him wait
Whose house doór stood open still;
Í 'll go bail he'll pay his bill.

Ín mine ínn I'll take mine eáse,
Ín mine ínn do what I please,
Ín mine ínn I'll have my fling,

Laúgh and dánce and play and sing

Till the júgs and glásses ring,

Ánd not énvy queén or king.

Walking from RANKACH Over the FREIERSBERG to OPPENAU in the BLACK FOREST (BADEN), Octob. 11, 1854.

A DOUBLE folly how to cook

If you desire to know,
You'll find it in a cookery book
That some score years ago

Was printed for the use of cooks
Who well had learned to read;

I've tried it often, and still found
The récipé succeed.

You'll take the first young man you meet
That 's handsome and well made,

And dréss him in a brán - new suit
Of clothes of any shade;

But blué and drab, or brown and white,

Is said to be the best;

His gloves must be of yellow kid,
Of patterned silk his vest.

His glóssy, lacquered boots, too small
To hold with ease his toes,
Should glance and sparkle in the sun
At évery step he goes.

Both cheeks should be scraped close and clean,

But I advise you spare

Just in the middle of his chin

One little tuft of hair;

And leave upon his upper lip

Enough to take a twirl -
In áll as múch hair as may show
He's not all oút a girl.

And then you'll teach him airs genteel,

And words of import small

Aboút religion, politics,

And the last fancy - ball.

When your young mán is thus prepared,

Look round until you find

A máte for him as suitable

In pérson as in mind.

Simple and dignified must be

Her boarding-school-taught mien, And for the last five years her age Sómething about eighteen.

She must have learned a mincing gait,
And not to swing her arms;
And can she sit bolt úpright straight
"Twill double all her charms.

Ígnorance of things she knows right well
Her looks must always show,
And things she 's wholly ignorant of
She must pretend to know.

Néver must shé behind her look

While walking in the street;

Her eyes and those of a young man

Must néver, never meet.

Bút she may peep behind the blinds

When in the room 's no one,

And watch what in the opposite house
Or street is going on.

She must have learned neat angle hand
And hów to fold a note;
Bulwer and Byron understand,
And on dear children doat.

Bút above all things she must love
The only, one, true church,

And héresy and unbelief

Háte, as bold boys the birch.

They 're ready now, the youth and maid,

And need but to be brought

by accident together

And without all forethought.

Two rainstreams on the window pane
You 've seen together run,

Two pools of milk upon a tray
You 've seén blend into one.

So youth and maid bring them but near
Are súre to coalesce;

Cértain the fact, although the cause
May hárder be to guess:

Grammarians hold it for the accórd

Of similar tense and case, Attraction, it's by chemists called, Of ácid for a base.