But I ought to relate one more example of the manner in which the patience of the Squire's lady was tried, by the rusticity of her attendants, during the short season of her attempt to elevate her household arrangements into something like fashionable dignity. One day, when the Squire had sent off, upon some frivolous errand, every servant in the house except cook and coachman, in dropped a very important visitor who proffered his company at dinner, to the consternation of the lady: hospitable as she was, she was in a dilemma; but it could not be helped. The services of the coachman were duly called into requisition to wait at table, greatly to his chagrin, for he detested the duty, and whenever he chanced to be called upon to perform it, was sure to find some means of letting all the room know that he did. He abhorred indoor work, and took a pride in proclaiming himself to be coachee. On this occasion, having some apple-dumplings to bring in (vulgarities to which the Squire was considerably attached), the coachman, not qualified by daily practice for the duty, let some of them slip off the dish; but recovering himself, he contrived to balance the dish as he held it out, and to steady the rolling dumplings therein, with a "Who-o, whoo-oo, _whut!_" Neither the Squire nor his lady ever affected the "gentilities" after this, or allowed their honest hearts to be disconcerted about trifles; and with this last "tray" of domestic awkwardness, I for the present take my leave of the Livery.
"Easy travelling this, sir; smooth roads, no turnpikes; no dirt thrown about, no splashing. Pleasant for me, who have just arrived from Van Diemen's Land," (we all looked up at our new visitor V. D. L.)--"yes, sir, where they are 'mending their ways,' as you are here, only not quite so fast; haven't got to Indian-rubber roads yet, though advanced beyond the point at which the traveller in my legend was obliged to stop." This allusion being evidently preparatory to the production of a story, V. D. L. was invited to explain, which he instantly did by chanting the following
Long time ago, when public roads In far Van Diemen's Land, Were only fit for frogs and toads, Composed of pools and sand; (For folks had not tried newest modes Of making wood-ways grand); And narrow wheels, and heavy loads, Made ups and downs on every hand: Long time ago, When things were so, By some arch wag it was averr'd The following incident occurr'd.-- It chanced, on one of old October's days, A traveller was travelling along, And, as he jolted in his strong-spring'd chaise, "Beguiled the tedious minutes" with a song: When, lo! a hat upon a pool he sees, That did not seem to feel the "balmy breeze," But in the middle kept its place! As if it had resolved, with honest pride, Not to be driven down upon the side, When it might hold the central space. The traveller got out, and took it up,-- Most strange!--a head beneath the hat appears, Whose hair had of the puddle ta'en a sup, And now was weeping dirty-looking tears:-- "How?" said the traveller, "why! how is this? You've sunk a precious depth, my friend, in mud; How did you 'come to go' so much amiss, As walk in muddy water--in cold blood?-- Ye gods! why, sir, you must have been like lead, So deep into this puddle to have gone." "If _I'm so deep_," the other gruffly said, "_Where, where, must be the horse that I am on?_"