I Wish I Had Eight

I Wish I Had Eight Pairs Of Hands, And Another Body To Shoot The Specimens.

In My Deepest Troubles, I Frequently Would Wrench Myself From The Persons Around Me And Retire To Some Secluded Part Of Our Noble Forests.

A Mocking Bird Regularly Resorts To The South Angle Of A Chimney Top And Salutes Us With Sweetest Notes From The Rising Of The Moon Until About Midnight.

Hunting, Fishing, Drawing, And Music Occupied My Every Moment. Cares I Knew Not, And Cared Naught About Them.

I Discover That My Friends Think Only Of My Apparel, And Those Upon Whom I Have Conferred Acts Of Kindness Prefer To Remind Me Of My Errors.