Quite a new sort of creatures, unknown yet to scholars, With heads so immoveably stuck in shirt-collars, That seats like our music-stools soon must be found them, To twirl, when the creatures may wish to look round them In short, dear, "a Dandy" describes what I mean, And BoB's far the best of the genus I've seen : An improving young man, fond of learning, ambitious, And goes now to Paris to study French dishes, Whose names-think, how quick!—he already knows pat, A la braise, petits pâtés, and—what d'ye call that They inflict on potatoes?-oh! maître d'hôtelI assure you, dear DOLLY, he knows them as well As if nothing but these all his life he had eat, Though a bit of them BOBBY has never touch'd yet; But just knows the names of French dishes and cooks, As dear Pa, knows the titles of authors and books. As to Pa, what d'ye think ?—mind, its all entre nous, But you know, love, I never keep secrets from you Why, he's writing a book—what? a tale ? a ro mance? No, ye Gods, would it were!--but his Travels in France; At the special desire (he let out t'other day) Of his friend and his patron, my Lord C-s TL-R-GH, Who said, "My dear FUDGE th' exact words, " I forget And, it's strange, no one ever remembers my Lord's; [allow But 'twas something to say that, as all must A good orthodox work is much wanting just now, To expound to the world the new-thingummie-science, Found out by the-what's its name-Holy A*****ce, And prove to mankind that their rights are but folly, Their freedom a joke, (which it is you know, DOLLY) "There's none," said his Lordship, "if may be "judge, "Half so fit for this great undertaking as FUDGE !" The matter's soon settled-Pa flies to the Row, (The first stage your tourists now usually go) Settles all for his quarto-advertisements, praises Starts post from the door, with his tablets "SCOTT's Visit," of course-in short ev'ry thing he has An author can want, except words and ideas :And, lo! the first thing, in the spring of the year, IS PHIL. FUDGE at the front of a Quarto, my dear! But, bless me, my paper's near out, so I'd bet ter Draw fast to a close ;-this exceeding long let ter You owe to a déjeuner à la fourchette, Which BOBBY would have, and is hard at i yet. What's next? oh, the tutor, the last of the party, Young CONNOR :-they say he's so like BON****TE, His nose and his chin,-which Papa rather dreads, As the B*****ns, you know are suppressing ali heads That resemble old Nap's, and who knows but their honours May think, in their fright, of suppressing poot | CONNOR'S ? Au reste, (as we say) the young lad's wel enough, Only talks much of Athens, Rome, virtue, and stuff; A third cousin of ours, by the way-poor as Job (Though of royal descent by the side o Mamma) 17 And for charity made private tutor to BoвEntre nous, too, a Papist-how lib'ral of Pa! This is all, dear,-forgive me for breaking off thus ; But BoB's déjeûner's done, and Papa's in a P. S. fuss. B. F. How provoking of Pa! he will not let me stop Just to run in and rummage some milliner's shop; And my début in Paris, I blush to think on it; Must now, DOLL, be made in a hideous low bonnet. But Paris, dear Paris !--oh, there will be joy, And romance, and high bonnets, and Madame LE ROI !* * A celebrated mantua-maker in Paris: 1 * LETTER II. FROM PHIL. FUDGE, ESQ. TO THE LORD VIS Ar length, my Lord, I have the bliss Where, by plebeians low and scurvy, Upward and downward, as the stream While *****'s borne on shoulders in:- *This excellent imitation of the noble Lord's style shows how deeply Mr. Fudge must have studied his great original. Irish oratory, indeed, abounds with such startling peculiarities. Thus the eloquent Coun sellor B- in describing some hypocritical pretender to charity, said " He put his hand in his breeches pocket, like a crocodile, and," etc. etc. |