LETTER VIII.

Old friend, you certainly have merit; You really are a bird of spirit. I'm quite surprised, I must confess; I did not think you did possess Such valour as you've lately shown — In fact,‘ tis nearly like my own. You know I've always been renown'd For bravery, since first I found That I could hiss; and feel I'm bolder Each year that I am growing older.

You must, I'm sure, have often seen, When in the pond, or on the green, With all my family about me ( I can n't think how they'd do without me ), Some human thing come striding by, And how, without a scruple, I March after him, and bite his heel; And then, you know, the pride I feel To hear, as back I march again, The feat extoll'd by all my train. But if I were to tell you all The valiant actions, great and small, That ever were achieved by me, I never should have done, I see; For cows, and pigs, and horses know The consequence of such a foe. However, I am glad to find That you have such a noble mind, And think, my friend, that by and by You'll rise to be as great as I.