VILLAGE GREATNESS.
{"newspaper_name": "Litchfield enquirer.", "edition": "01", "page": "p1", "byline": ""}
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In every country village, where Ten chimney-smokes perfume the air, Contiguous to steeple, Great gentle-folks are found, score Who can't associate any more

 With common " country people !" Jack Fallosc, born amongst the woods, From rolling logs, now rolls in goods,

 Enough awhile to dash on Tells negro stories--smokes segars- Talks politics-decides on wars

 And lives in stylish fashion. Tim Or guud, lately from the plough, A polished gentleman is now,

 And talks of" country fellows" Bvt ask the flop what books he's read, You'll find the brain-pan of his head

 As empty as bellows. Miss Paddle, lately from the wheel, Begins quite lady like to feel, And talks affectedly genteel,

 And sings some tasty songs, too; But my veracity impeach, If she can tell what part of speech

 Gentility belongs to. Without one spark of wit refined, Without one beauty of the mind,

 Genius or education, Or family, or fame, to boast To see such gentry rule the roast,

 Turns patience to vexation, To clear such rubbish from the earth Though real genius, mental worth,

 And science too attend you You might as we'll the sty refine, Or cast your pearls before the swine;

 They'd turn again and rend you.