A Wet Sunday In A Country Inn（在线收听）

　　A  wet  Sunday  in  a  country  inn  !  Whoever  has  had  the  luck  to  experienceone(1) can alone judge of(2) my situation. The rain pattered against thecasements;  the  bells  tolled  for  church  with  a  melancholy  sound.  I  wentto  the  windows  in  quest  of  something  to  amuse  the  eye;  but  it  seemed  asif  I  had  been  placed  completely  out  of  the  reach  of  ail  amusement.  Thewindows  of  my  bed-room  looked  out(3)  among  tiled  roofs  and  stacks  ofchimneys, while those of my sitting-room commanded a full view of(4) thestable yard. I know of nothing more calculated to make a man sick of thisworld than a stable yard on a rainy day. The place was littered with wetstraw  that  had  been  kicked  about  by  travellers  and  stable-boys.  In  onecorner was a stagnant pool of water, surrounding an island of muck; therewere several half-drowned fowls crowded together under a cart, among whichwas a miserable, crest-fallen cock, drenched out of ail life and spirit;his drooping tail matted, as it were, into a single feather, along whichthe  water  trickled  from  his  hack;  near  the  cart  was  a  half-  dozing  cow,chewing her cud, and standing patiently to be rained on, with wreaths ofvapour(5)  rising  from  her  reekinghide;  a  wall-eyed(6)  horse,  tired  of  the  loneliness  of  the  stable,  waspoking  his  spectral  head  out  of  a  window,  with  the  rain  dripping  on  itfrom the eaves; an unhappy cur, chained to a dog-house hard by, utteredsomething every now and then between a bark and a yelp; a drab of a kitchenwench(7)  tramped  backwards  and  forwards  through  the  yard  in  pat-  tens,looking  as  sulky  as  the  weather  itself;  everything,  iq  short,  wascomfortless  and  forlorn,  excepting  a  crew  of  hardened  ducks,  assembledlike boon companions round a puddle and making a riotous noise over theirliquor.