Till five o'clock brings on that hour so momen

tous,

That epoch-but woa! my lad-here comes the Schneider,

And, curse him, has made the stays three inches wider

Too wide by an inch and a half-what a Guy! But, no matter,-'twill all be set right by-and

by

As we've MASSINOT's* eloquent carte to eat

still up,

An inch and a half's but a trifle to fill up.

So-not to lose time, DICK-here goes for the

task;

Au revoir, my old boy-of the Gods I but ask, That my life, like "the Leap of the German," may be,

"Du lit à la table, de la table au lit !"

* A famous Restaurateur-now Dupont.

R. F.

† An old French saying ;- -"Faire le saut de l'Allemand, du lit à la table, et de la table au lit."

LETTER IX.

FROM PHIL. FUDGE, ESQ. TO THE LORD
VISCOUNT C-ST-GH.

My Lord, th' Instructions, brought to-day,
“I shall in all my best obey.”

Your Lordship talks and writes so sensibly!
And--whatsoe'er some wags may say-
Oh! not at all incomprehensibly.

I feel th' inquiries in your letter

About my health and French most flattering; Thank ye, my French, though somewhat bet

ter,

Is, on the whole, but weak and smattering ;Nothing, of course, that can compare With his who made the Congress stare, (A certain Lord we need not name)

Who, ev'n in French, would have his trope, And talk of " bâtir un systême

"Sur l'équilibre de l'Europe !"

Sweet metaphor!-and then th' Epistle,
Which bid the Saxon King go whistle,

That tender letter to "Mon Prince,”
Which show'd alike thy French and sense,--
Oh no, my Lord--there's none can do
Or say un-English things like you;

*The celebrated letter to Prince Hardenburg (writ ten, however, I believe, originally in English,) in which his Lordship, professing to see "no moral or political objection" to the dismemberment of Saxony, denounced the unfortunate King as "not only the most devoted, but the most favoured of Bonaparte's vassals."

And, if the schemes that fill thy breast
Could but a vent congenial seek,

And use the tongue that suits them best, What charming Turkish would'st thou speak!

But as for Frenchless grub,

me, a

At Congress never born to stammer, Nor learn like thee, my Lord, to snub Fall'n Monarchs, out of CHAMBAUD's gram

mar

Bless you, you do not, cannot know
How far a little French will go;

For all one's stock, one need but draw
On some half-dozen words like these--
Comme ça-par-là-à-bas—ah ah!

They'll take you all through France with

ease.

Your Lordship's praises of the scraps I sent you from my Journal lately, (Enveloping a few lac'd caps

For Lady C.) delight me greatly. Her flattering speech-" what pretty things One finds in Mr. FUDGE's pages! Is praise which (as some poet sings) Would pay one for the toils of ages.

Thus flatter'd, I presume to send
A few more extracts by a friend;
And I should hope they'll be no less
Approv'd of than my last MS.-

The former ones, I fear, were creas'd,

AS BIDDY round the caps would pin them ;

But these will come to hand, at least
Unrumpled, for there's nothing in them.

Extracts from Mr. Fudge's Journal, addressed to Lord C.

Aug. 10.

Went to the Mad-house-saw the man,* *

Who thinks, poor wretch, that, while the

Fiend

Of Discord here full riot ran,

He, like the rest, was guillotin'd ;—

But that when, under BONEY's reign,

(A more discreet, though quite as strong one)

The heads were all restor'd again,

He in the scramble got a wrong one. Accordingly he still cries out

This strange head fits him most unpleasantly;

And always runs, poor dev'l, about,

Inquiring for his own incessantly! While to his case a tear I dropt,

And saunter'd home, thought I-ye Gods! How many heads might thus be swopp'd, And after all, not make much odds!

*This extraordinary madman is, I believe, in the Bicêtre. He imagines, exactly as Mr. Fudge states it, that, when the heads of those who had been guillotined were restored, he by mistake got some other person's instead of his own.

For instance, there's V-s-TT-T's head-
("Tam carum" it may well be said)
If by some curious chance it came

To settle on BILL SOAMES'st shoulders,
Th' effect would turn out much the same
On all respectable cash-holders:
Except that while, in its new socket,
The head was planning schemes to win
A zig-zag way into one's pocket,
The hands would plunge directly in.

Good Viscount S-Dм-н, too, instead
Of his own grave, respected head,
Might wear (for aught I see that bars)
Old Lady Wilhelmina FruMP's—
So while the hand sign'd Circulars,

The head might lisp out "What is trumps !".
The R-G--T's brains could we transfer
To some robust man-milliner,

The shop, the shears, the lace, and ribbon
Would go, I doubt not, quite as glib on;
And, vice versâ, take the pains

To give the P-CE the shopman's brains,
One only change from thence would flow,
Ribbons would not be wasted so!

'Twas thus I ponder'd on, my Lord;
And, even at night, when laid in bed,
I found myself, before I snor'd,

Thus chopping, swopping head for heal. At length I thought, fantastic elf! How such a change would suit myself.

* Tam cari capitis.-Horat.

† A celebrated pickpocket.