In many of the inns in the United States there is an album on the table in
which travellers insert their arrival and departure, and now and then
indulge in a little flash or two of wit.
I thought under existing circumstances that there would be no harm in
briefly telling my misadventure; and so taking up the pen I wrote what
follows, and was never after asked a single question about the gout.
C. Waterton, of Walton Hall, in the county of York, England,
arrived at the Falls of Niagara in July 1824, and begs leave to
pen down the following dreadful accident:
He sprained his foot, and hurt his toe,
On the rough road near Buffalo.
It quite distresses him to stagger a-
Long the sharp rocks of famed Niagara.
So thus he's doomed to drink the measure
Of pain, in lieu of that of pleasure.
On Hope's delusive pinions borne
He came for wool, and goes back shorn.
_N.B._--Here he alludes to nothing but
Th' adventure of his toe and foot;
Save this,--he sees all that which can
Delight and charm the soul of man,
But feels it not,--because his toe
And foot together plague him so.
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