" He frankly admitted that the summer and the country had no charms
for him. His sentiments on this head found poetical expression in a parody
of _Paradise Lost_. He felt
"As one who, long in rural hamlets pent,
(Where squires and parsons deep potations make,
With lengthen'd tale of fox, or timid hare,
Or antler'd stag, sore vext by hound and horn),
Forth issuing on a winter's morn, to reach
In chaise or coach the London Babylon
Remote, from each thing met conceives delight;--
Or cab, or car, or evening muffin-bell,
Or lamps--each city-sight, each city-sound"
"I do all I can to love the country, and endeavour to believe those
poetical lies which I read in Rogers and others, on the subject; which
said deviations from truth were, by Rogers, all written in St. James's
Place." "I look forward anxiously to the return of the bad weather,
coal fires, and good society in a crowded city." "The country is bad
enough in summer, but in winter it is a fit residence only for beings
doomed to such misery for misdeeds in another state of existence."
"You may depend upon it, all lives lived out of London are mistakes,
more or less grievous--but mistakes." "I shall not be sorry to be in
town. I am rather tired of simple pleasures, bad reasoning, and worse
cookery.
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