"
"I am afraid," observed TIME, whittling a piece of stick with his
scythe, "that we may have looked in at a wrong season. As far as I can
judge from a consideration of the temperature, and a glance round your
landscape, we are now at Midsummer--in the dog days, if I may so put
it without offence. Of course your legislators would not be in Town
just now, sweltering at work that might as well be performed in winter
weather, when, regarded as a place of business or residence, Town has
attractions superior to those of the country." "Ah, young fellow," I
said, perhaps a little sharply, not relishing his somewhat round-about
way of putting things, "when you are as old as me or my esteemed
master, you will not be so cock-sure of things. Our Parliamentary
Session begins on the threshold of Spring; we stop in Town hard at
work, through the pleasantest months of the year; we toil through
Summer nights, see August out, and, somewhere about the first week
in September, when the days are growing short, the air is chill, and
Autumn gets ready to usher in Winter, we go off to make holiday."
"Dear me, dear me!" cried _Mr. P._, "how very sad. How deliberately
foolish. We manage things much better than that down in our tight
little Earth. When we take that in turn, you will find, my good TIME,
that we burrow at our legislative work through the Winter months,
getting it done so as to leave us free to enjoy the country in the
prime of Spring, and amid the wealth of Summer.
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