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Begbie, Harold, 1871-1929

"The Bed-Book of Happiness"

K. Stephen._]
Within the bounds of this Hotel,
Which bears the name of Pen-y-Gwryd,
A black and yellow hound doth dwell,
By which my friend and I were worried.
Our object is not to imply
That he assaulted, bit, or tore us;
In fact he never ventured nigh
Except when food was set before us.
But when the scent of ham and eggs
Announced the breakage of our fast,
He came and twined about our legs,
And interrupted our repast.
We drove him from us through the door;
He reappeared; we tried the casement;
He seemed to rise out of the floor,
And importuned us as before,
To our unspeakable amazement.
But timely succour Fortune brought us;
One word of Welsh we chanced to know,
And that a fellow-guest had taught us;
It meant "Unpleasant creature, go!"
Stranger! If you should chance to meet him,
Oh do not pull, or kick, or push,
Or execrate, or bribe, or beat him,
But make a sound resembling "Cwsh"!

LETTERS OF FITZ
[Sidenote: _Edward FitzGerald_]
Mazzinghi tells me that November weather breeds blue devils--so that
there is a French proverb, "In October de Englishman shoot de pheasant;
in November he shoot himself." This, I suppose, is the case with me: so
away with November, as soon as may be.


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