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But a side-board, you dog, where one's eye roves There goes a French Dandy-ah, Dick ! unlike

about, Like a Turk's in the Haram, and thence singles out We've seen about WHITE's — the Mounseers are One pâté of larks, just to tune up the throat,

but rum ones; One's small limbs of chickens, done en papillote, Such hats! — fit for monkeys- I'd back Mrs. DRAOne's erudite cutlets, drest all ways but plain, Or one's kidneys— imagine, Dick — done with To cut neater weather-boards out of brown paper : champagne !

And coats – how I wish, if it wouldn't distress 'em, Then, some glasses of Beaune, to dilute-or, may- They'd club for old BR-MM-L, from Calais, to hap,

dress em! Chambertin !, which you know's the pet tipple of The collar sticks out from the neck such a space, NAP,

That you'd swear 'twas the plan of this headAnd which Dad, by the by, that legitimate stickler, lopping nation, Much scruples to taste, but I'm not so partic’lar.— To leave there behind them a snug little place Your coffee comes next, by prescription : and then, For the head to drop into, on decapitation. Dick, 's

In short, what with mountebanks, counts, and friThe coffee's ne'er-failing and glorious appendix,

seurs, (If books had but such, my old Grecian, depend on't, Some mummers by trade, and the rest amateursI'd swallow ev'n W-TK-Ns', for sake of the end What with captains in new jockey-boots and silk on't)

breeches, A neat glass of parfait-amour, which one sips Old dustmen with swinging great opera-hats, Just as if bottled velvet 2 tipp'd over one's lips. And shoeblacks reclining by statues in niches, This repast being ended, and paid for-(how odd ! There never was seen such a race of Jack Till a man's us’d to paying, there's something so Sprats !

queer in't !)— The sun now well out, and the girls all abroad, From the Boulevards — but hearken!-yes - as And the world enough air'd for us, Nobs, to I'm a sinner, appear in't,

The clock is just striking the half-hour to dinner: We lounge up the Boulevards, where-oh, Dick, So no more at present — short time for adorningthe phyzzes,

My Day must be finish'd some other fine mornThe turn-outs, we meet—what a nation of quizzes ! ing. Here toddles along some old figure of fun, Now, hey for old BEAUVILLIERS’larder, my boy! With a coat you might date Anno Domini 1. ; And, once there, if the Goddess of Beauty and Joy A lac'd hat, worsted stockings, and - noble old soul! Were to write “ Come and kiss me, dear BOB!” A fine ribbon and cross in his best button-hole;

I'd not budgeJust such as our PR-CE, who nor reason nor fun Not a step, Dick, as sure as my name is dreads,

R. FUDGE. Inflicts, without ev'n a court-martial, on hundreds.3 Here trips a grisette, with a fond, roguish eye, (Rather eatable things these grisettes by the by); And there an old demoiselle, almost as fond, In a silk that has stood since the time of the Fronde.

-or the Anacreontics of Peter Prancius, in which he calls

Θεαν, θεην, θεαιναν.
The following passage from one of these Anacreontics will,
I have no doubt, be gratifying to all true Theists.

Θιους, 9ιων τε πατρι,
Εν χρυσίοις σκυφοισι
Διδοι το νεκτας Ηβη.
Σε μοι διακονούντο
Σκυφοις εν μυρρινοισι, ,
Τω καλλεί τριτωσαι
Καλαις χρισσι κουραί.

. Which may be thus translated :

Yes, let Hebe, ever young,

High in heav'n her nectar hold,
And to Jove's immortal throng

Pour the tide in cups of gold –
ru not envy heaven's Princes,

While, with snowy hands, for me,
Kate the china tea-cup rinses,

And pours out her best Bohea !
| The favourite wine of Napoleon.
2 Velours en bouteille.

3 It was said by Wicquefort, more than a hundred years ago, "Le Roi d'Angleterre fait seul plus de chevaliers que tous les autres Rois de la Chrétienté ensemble." - What would he say now?

4 A celebrated restaurateur.


That monster, Self, too gross to be conceal'd,

Which ever lurks behind thy proffer'd shield ;-
That faithless craft, which, in thy hour of need,
Can court the slave, can swear he shall be freed,

Yet basely spurns him, when thy point is gain'd, “RETURN!” —no, never, while the with’ring hand Back to his masters, ready gaggʻd and chain'd ! Of bigot power is on that hapless land ;

Worthy associate of that band of Kings, While, for the faith my fathers held to God, That royal, rav'ning flock, whose vampire wings Evin in the fields where free those fathers trod, O’er sleeping Europe treacherously brood, I am proscrib'd, and - like the spot left bare And fan her into dreams of promis'd good, In Israel's halls, to tell the proud and fair Of hope, of freedom — but to drain her blood ! Amidst their mirth, that Slav'ry had been there. If thus to hear thee branded be a bliss On all I love, home, parents, friends, I trace That Vengeance loves, there's yet more sweet than The mournful mark of bondage and disgrace!

this, No!- let them stay, who in their country's pangs That 'twas an Irish head, an Irish heart, See nought but food for factions and harangues ; Made thee the fall’n and tarnish'd thing thou art ; Who yearly kneel before their masters' doors, That, as the centaur 3 gave the' infected vest And hawk their wrongs, as beggars do their sores: In which he died, to rack bis conqu'ror's breast, Still let your

We sent thee C- GH:—as heaps of dead

Have slain their slayers by the pest they spread, Still hope and suffer, all who can !-- but I, So hath our land breath'd out, thy fame to dim, Who durst not hope, and cannot bear, must ily. Thy strength to waste, and rot thee, soul and limb,

Her worst infections all condens'd in him! But whither?—every where the scourge pursues — Turn where he will, the wretched wand'rer views, When will the world shake off such yokes ? oh, In the bright, broken hopes of all his race,

when Countless reflections of the’ Oppressor's face. Will that redeeming day shine out on men, Every where gallant hearts, and spirits true, That shall behold them rise, erect and free Are serv'd up victims to the vile and few; As Heav'n and Nature meant mankind should be! While E-gl-d, every where — the general foe When Reason shall no longer blindly bow Of Truth and Freedom, wheresoe'er they glow - To the vile pagod things, that o'er her brow, Is first, when tyrants strike, to aid the blow. Like him of Jaghernaut, drive trampling now;

Nor Conquest dare to desolate God's earth ; Oh, E-gl-d! could such poor revenge atone Nor drunken Vict'ry, with a NERO's mirth, For wrongs, that well might claim the deadliest one; Strike her lewd harp amidst a people's groans ;Were it a vengeance, sweet enough to sate But, built on love, the world's exalted thrones The wretch who flies from thy intolerant hate, Shall to the virtuous and the wise be given To hear his curses on such barb'rous sway Those bright, those sole Legitimates of Heaven ! Echoed, where'er he bends his cheerless way; Could this content him, every lip he meets When will this be ?-or, oh! is it, in truth, Teems for his vengeance with such poisonous But one of those sweet, day-break dreams of yonth, sweets;

In which the Soul, as round her morning springs, Were this his lux’ry, never is thy name

'Twixt sleep and waking, sees such dazzling things! Pronounc'd, but he doth banquet on thy shame; And must the hope, as vain as it is bright, Hears maledictions ring from every side

Be all resign'd ?- and are they only right, Upon that grasping power, that selfish pride, Who say this world of thinking souls was made Which vaunts its own, and scorns all rights beside; To be by Kings partition'd, truck’d, and weigh'd That low and desp'rate envy, which to blast In scales that, ever since the world begun, A neighbour's blessings, risks the few thou hast ;- Have counted millions but as dust to one ?

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1 " They used to leave a yard square of the wall of the house unplastered, on which they wrote, in large letters, either the fore-mentioned verse of the Psalmist (*If I forget thee, O Jerusalem,' &c.) or the words — The memory of the desolation.'"

"- Leo of Modena. · I have thought it prudent to omit some parts of Mr. Phelim Connor's letter. He is evidently an intemperato

young man, and has associated with his cousin the Fudges,
little purpose.

Membra et Herculeos toros
Urit lues Nessen.
Ille, ille victor vincitur.

SENEC, Hercul. El


Are they the only wise, who laugh to scorn But, Lord, such a place ! and then, DOLLY, my
The rights, the freedom to which man was born ? dresses,

My gowns, so divine !--- there's no language ex

presses, Who, proud to kiss each sep'rate rod of pow'r, Except just the two words“superbe,” “magnifique,” Bless, while he reigns, the minion of the hour; The trimmings of that which I had home last week! Worship each would-be God, that o'er them moves, It is call’d—I forget-à la— something which And take the thund'ring of his brass for Jove's ! sounded If this be wisdom, then farewell, my books, Like alicampane—but, in truth, I'm confounded Farewell, ye shrines of old, ye classic brooks, And bother'd, my dear, 'twixt that troublesome Which fed my soul with currents, pure and fair, boy's Of living Truth, that now must stagnate there!- (BoB's) cookery language, and Madame le Ror's: Instead of themes that touch the lyre with light, What with fillets of roses, and fillets of veal, Instead of Greece, and her immortal fight Things garni with lace, and things garni with eel, For Liberty, which once awak'd my strings, One's hair and one's cutlets both en papillote, Welcome the Grand Conspiracy of Kings, And a thousand more things I shall ne'er have by The High Legitimates, the Holy Band,

rote, Who, bolder ev’n than He of Sparta's land, I can scarce tell the diff'rence, at least as to phrase, Against whole millions, panting to be free, Between beef à la Psyché and curls à la braise. — Would guard the pass of right-line tyranny. But, in short, dear, I'm trick'd out quite à la Instead of him, the Athenian bard, whose blade

Française, Had stood the onset which his pen portray'd, With my bonnet - so beautiful! - high up and Welcome


Like things that are put to keep chimnies from And, 'stead of ARISTIDES — woe the day

smoking. Such names should mingle!—welcome C


Where shall I begin with the endless delights Here break we off, at this unhallow'd name, Of this Eden of milliners, monkies, and sightsLike priests of old, when words ill-omen'd came. This dear busy place, where there's nothing transMy next shall tell thee, bitterly shall tell,

acting Thoughts that

But dressing and dinnering, dancing and acting ?

Imprimis, the Opera — mercy, my ears ! Thoughts that - could patience hold - 'twere Brother BOBBY's remark, t'other night, was a wiser far

true one; To leave still bid and burning where they are. “ This must be the music,” said he, “ of the spears,

“ For I'm curst if each note of it doesn't run

through one !" Pa says (and you know, love, his Book's to make


'Twas the Jacobins brought ev'ry mischief about)

That this passion for roaring has come in of late, FROM MISS BIDDY FUDGE TO MISS DOROTHY Since the rabble all tried for a voice in the State.

What a frightful idea, one's mind to o'erwhelm! What a time since I wrote! - I'm a sad, naughty What a chorus, dear Dolly, would soon be let girl

loose of it, For, though, like a tee-totum, I'm all in a twirl ;- If, when of age, every man in the realm Yet ev'n (as you wittily say) a tee-totum

Had a voice like old Lais”, and chose to make Between all its twirls gives a letter to note 'em.

use of it!

1 The late Lord C. of Ireland had a curious theory about

Tun' trium literarum homo Darnes: he held that every man with three names was a

Me vituperas? Fur. jacobin. His instances in Ireland were numerous : – viz.

PLAUTUS, Aulular. Act. ii. Scene 4. Archibald Hamilton Rowan, Theobald Wolfe Tone, James Napper Tandy, John Philpot Curran, &c. &c. ; and in Eng

2 The oldest, most celebrated, and most noisy of the singers land, he produced as examples Charles James Fox, Richard at the French Opera. Brinsley Sheridan, John Horne Tooke, Francis Burdett Jones, &c. &c.

a Dissaldeus supposes this word to be a glossema:- that is, he thinks The Romans called a thief" homo trium literarum."

« Fur" has made his escape from the margin into the text.


No-never was known in this riotous sphere Here DANIEL, in pantomimes, bids bold defiance
Such a breach of the peace as their singing, my dear. To NEBUCHADNEZZAR and all his stuff'd lions,
So bad too, you'd swear that the God of both arts, While pretty young Israelites dance round the
Of Music and Physic, had taken a frolic

For setting a loud fit of asthma in parts, In very thin clothing, and but little of it ;-
And composing a fine rumbling base to a cholic! Here BÉGRAND 4, who shines in this scriptural path,

As the lovely SUZANNA, without ev'n a relic But, the dancing — ah! parlez-moi, Dolly, de ça — Of drapery round her, comes out of the bath There, indeed, is a treat that charms all but Papa. In a manner that, Bob says, is quite Eve-angelic! Such beauty - such grace- oh ye sylphs of ro- But in short, dear, 'twould take me a month to recite mance!

All the exquisite places we're at, day and night; Fly, fly to TITANIA, and ask her if she has And, besides, ere I finish, I think you'll be glad One light-footed nymph in her train, that can dance Just to hear one delightful adventure I've had.

Like divine BIGOTTINI and sweet Fanny Bias! Fanny Bias in FLORA — dear creature !-you'd Last night, at the Beanjon ó, a place where - I

doubt When her delicate feet in the dance twinkle if its charms I can paint—there are cars, that set out round,

From a lighted pavilion, high up in the air, That her steps are of light, that her home is the air, And rattle you down DOLL — you hardly know And she only par complaisance touches the where. ground.

These vehicles, mind me, in which you go through And when BIGOTTINI in Psyché dishevels This delightfully dangerous journey, hold two.

Her black flowing hair, and by dæmons is driven, Some cavalier asks, with humility, whether Oh! who does not envy those rude little devils, You'll venture down with him — you smile — 'tis That hold her and hug her, and keep her from a match; heaven?

In an instant you're seated, and down both together Then, the music — so softly its cadences die, Go thund'ring, as if you went post to old scratch !6 So divinely -oh, DOLLY ! between you and I, Well, it was but last night, as I stood and remarka It's as well for my peace that there's nobody nigh On the looks and odd ways of the girls who emTo make love to me then you've a soul, and can bark'd, judge

The impatience of some for the perilous flight, What a crisis 'twould be for your friend Biddy The forc'd giggle of others, 'twixt pleasure and FUDGE!


That there came upimagine, dear Doll, if you The next place (which BOBBY has near lost his heart in)

A fine sallow, sublime, sort of Werter-fac'd man, They call it the Play-house — I think —of St. With mustachios that gave (what we read of so oft) Martin ;

The dear Corsair expression, half savage, half Quite charming-and very religious — what folly soft, To say that the French are not pious, dear DOLLY, As Hyænas in love may be fancied to look, or When here one beholds, so correctly and rightly, A something between ABELARD and old BLUCHER! The Testament turn'd into melo-drames nightly;2 Up he came, Doll, to me, and, uncor'ring his And, doubtless, so fond they're of scriptural facts, head, They will soon get the Pentateuch up in five acts. (Rather bald, but so warlike !) in bad English said,

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| The Théâtre de la Porte St.-Martin, which was built the daring sublimity of these Scriptural pantomimes "Some when the Opera House in the Palais Royal was burnt down, 20. — La fournaise devient un berceau de nuages aures, an in 1781. - A few days after this dreadful fire, which lasted fond duquel est un groupe de nuages plus lumineux, et au more than a week, and in which several persons perished, the milieu “Jehovah'au centre d'un cercle de rayons brillans, qui Parisian élégantes displayed flame-coloured dresses, “ couleur annonce la présence de l'E'ternel." de feu d'Opéra !” Dulaure, Curiosités de Paris.

4 Madame Bégrand, a finely-formed woman, who acts in 2 “ The Old Testament,” says the theatrical Critic in the

“Susanna and the Elders," – "L'Amour et la Folie, &c, Gazette de France, “is a mine of gold for the managers of our

&c. small play-houses. A multitude crowd round the Théâtre de 5 The Promenades Aériennes, or French Gaieté every evening to see the Passage of the Red Sea.” See a description of this singular and fantastic place of amuse

In the play-bill of one of these sacred melo-drames at ment in a pamphlet, truly worthy of it, by " F. F. Cotterel Vienna, we find “ The Voice of G-d, by M. Schwartz.” Médecin, Docteur de la Faculté de Paris, * &c. &c.

3 A piece very popular last year, called “ Daniel, ou La 6 According to Dr. Cotterel the cars go at the rate of fortyFosse aux Lions.” The following scene will give an idea of eight miles an hour.

" Ah ! my dear—if Ma'mselle vil be so very Fly to the Beaujon, and there seek relief good —

By rattling, as BoB says, “like shot through a Just for von littel course" — though I scarce un- holly-bush."

derstood What he wish'd me to do, I said, thank him, I would. I must now bid adieu ;-only think, DOLLY, think Off we set-and, though faith, dear, I hardly If this should be the King – I have scarce slept a knew whether

wink My head or my heels were the uppermost then, With imagining how it will sound in the papers For 'twas like heav'n and earth, DOLLY, coming And how all the Misses my good luck will grudge, together,

When they read that Count RuPPIN, to drive Yet, spite of the danger, we dar'd it again.

away vapours, And oh! as I gaz’d on the features and air Has gone down the Beaujon with Miss BIDDY Of the man, who for me all this peril defied,

FUDGE. I could fancy almost he and I were a pair

Of unhappy young lovers, who thus, side by side, Nota Bene. — Papa's almost certain 'tis he Were taking, instead of rope, pistol, or dagger, a

For he knows the Legitimate cut, and could see, Desperate dash down the falls of Niagara ! In the way he went poising and manag‘d to tower

So erect in the car, the true Balance of Power. This achiev'd, through the gardens' we saunter'd

about, Saw the fire-works, exclaim'd " magnifique !"

at each cracker, And, when 'twas all o'er, the dear man saw us out

LETTER VI. With the air I will say, of a Prince, to our fiacre.


Now, hear me this stranger - it may be mere
folly -

Yours of the 12th receiv'd just now -
But who do you think we all think it is, Dolly ? Thanks for the hint, my trusty brother!
Why, bless you, no less than the great King of 'Tis truly pleasing to see how

We, FUDGES, stand by one another.
Who's here now incog. 2- he, who made such a But never fear— I know my chap,

And he knows me too — verbum sap. Remember, in London, with BLUCHER and Pla- My Lord and I are kindred spirits, TOFF,

Like in our ways as two young ferrets ; When Sal was near kissing old BLUCHER's cra- Both fashion'd, as that supple race is, vat off!

To twist into all sorts of places ;Pa says he's come here to look after his money, Creatures lengthy, lean, and hungering, (Not taking things now as he usd under Boney,) Fond of blood and burrow-mongering. Which suits with our friend, for Bob saw him, he swore,

As to my Book in 91, Looking sharp to the silver receiv'd at the door. Call’d“ Down with Kings, or, Who'd have Besides, too, they say that his grief for his Queen

thought it?” (Which was plain in this sweet fellow's face to be Bless you, the Book's long dead and gone, seen)

Not ev’n the Attorney-General bought it.
Requires such a stimulant dose as this car is, And, though some few seditious tricks
Us'd three times a day with young ladies in I play'd in 95 and 6,

As you remind me in your letter,
Some Doctor, indeed, has declar'd that such grief His Lordship likes me all the better ;
Should — unless 'twould to utter despairing its We proselytes, that come with news full,
folly push

Are, as he says, so vastly useful! In the Café attached to these gardens there are to be (as main blen noire, fera davantage ressortir l'albâtre des bras Doctor Cotterel informs us)“ douze nègres, très-alertes, qui arrondis de celles-ci." - p. 22. contrasteront par l'ébène de leur peau avec le teint de lis et de ? His Majesty, who was at Paris under the travelling name roses de nos belles. Les glaces et les sorbets, servis par une of Count Ruppin, is known to have gone down the Beaujon

very frequently.

fuss, you

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