Letter VIII. From The Gander To The Turkey-Cock. (The Bird And Insects' Post-Office.)

(CHARLES BLOOMFIELD.) 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'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. Your old friend, HISS.