One had as well meddle with a porkpen, which hath
thorns all over him, as try to deal with William when his eyes be rolling
in that mad way."
William--writing once more--after an exclamation in strong English of the
older pattern,--
"Whether 't is nobler--nobler--nobler--"
To do what? O these women! these women! to have puddings or flapjacks!
Oh!--
"Whether 't is nobler--in the mind--to suffer
The slings--and arrows--of--"
Oh! Oh! these women! I will e'en step over to the parson's and have a
cup of sack with His Reverence for methinks Master Hamlet hath forgot
that which was just now on his lips to speak.
So I shall have to put off making my friends acquainted with the other
boarders, some of whom seem to me worth studying and describing. I have
something else of a graver character for my readers. I am talking, you
know, as a poet; I do not say I deserve the name, but I have taken it,
and if you consider me at all it must be in that aspect. You will,
therefore, be willing to run your eyes over a few pages read, of course
by request, to a select party of the boarders.
THE GAMBREL-ROOFED HOUSE AND ITS OUTLOOK.
A PANORAMA, WITH SIDE-SHOWS.
My birthplace, the home of my childhood and earlier and later boyhood,
has within a few months passed out of the ownership of my family into the
hands of that venerable Alma Mater who seems to have renewed her youth,
and has certainly repainted her dormitories.
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