The Choice Humorous Works, Ludicrous Adventures 16
Mr. Fulmer does not know I am riting to you, but I do rite because I
think it rite to do so, to warn you not to say that Mr. Canine has
gone away from what he was formerly--for I know as a fact that it
was _he_ which christened his present friends "all the talons," and
rote a pome in praise of them, which he would not have done had he
not thought eyely of them.
It is not true that he is going to make any new Pears, although
his anymes says so. Mr. Russell, of Branspan, I have known all my
life--he smokes more than his coles, and don't want to be a Lord at
all; and as for Mr. Bearing, he is a _transit land take_ man, and
cannot be a Lord here--at least so F. tells me. However, I think Sir
George Warrener will be a Barren something, let what will happen
elsewhere. I see, however, Mr. Canine has made both Plunkett and
Carlile Lords, and given all the woods and forests to the latter.
You see I begin to pick up the noose--_awnter noo_, as the French
say, have you seen our village clock in St. Giles's--it is lited up
by itself every heavening, at hate o'clock; and on account of its
bright colour, may be red at any hour of the nite: it is, indeed, a
striking object; if you should be able to get out of town, do drive
down this way and look at it.
Only think of these Mr. Wakefields being put into gaol for three
years for marrying a young woman--I suppose there is no chance of her
being confined in consequence of her going with them. Have you heard
Madame Toeso? is she any relation to Miss Foote? My papa is full, and
so'il hold no more, so adeu.
Yours truly,
DOROTHEA L. RAMSBOTTOM.
P.S.--Have you read Sir Ruffian Donkey's Pumpflet about Lord
Somersetshire?
XV.
MRS. RAMSBOTTOM ON SMOKING.
TO JOHN BULL.
August, 1827.
DEAR B.,--I wish you would please to say something about them nasty
men what smokes about. I took my daughter to Market last week in the
_Columbine_ packet, and there not only did the ship smoke, but almost
every man had either a pipe or a seagar in his mouth.
I made a little fox pos on board, for I was so sick of the smoking
that one of the men said I had better go and sit with the engineers,
for let it be ever so hot they were used to it and never smoked. Now
when we was living on Blackheath, poor Mr. Ram used to ask several
of the engineers to dine with us, which always come in a pretty
uniform of scarlet, with blue velvet facings, and which I knowed to
be a genteel corpse, because there were not no men in it, but all
officers. So I asked the gentlemen who talked of the engineers to
show me the way to them, thinking perhaps I might see some of my old
friends down there, but when I got into the place, which was like a
firnest, what should I see but two or three men without their coats,
with airy caps on their heads and dirty faces, a shovelling in coles
like anything--and when I come down they laughed at me and asked if
I wanted to be roasted. I soon found out they was different people
from what I thought, and a gentleman who helped me up out of the hole
were they was a grubbing, told me the difference was that the dirty
men were civil engineers, which I could by no means agree to--for I
thought them uncommon rude.
When I got up stairs again, I was sick of the smoking, and so I
went into the cabin, where there were more smokers--in short, dear
B., whether I travels by land or by water, still I am smoked to
death--it is a most horrid custom, and, perhaps, if you notice
it, some on 'em will leave it off. I will rite again when we are
settled.--Yours truly,
L. D. RAMSBOTTOM.
XVI.
MRS. RAMSBOTTOM'S CONUNDRUMS.
TO JOHN BULL.
Montague Place, Dec. 28, 1827.
DEAR B.,--I never like to fail writing to you at this season, but I
don't like puttin you to the expense of postage; and yet, when I hear
of any thing peakant, I wish to send it you.
You must know that me and all the gulls have taken to making
knundrums, as they call them, and what we can't make, we collex. We
got the idear from having purchased some of the hannual perodicals. I
boght the Omelet, and Lavinia boght the Bougie, and they set us upon
putting knundrums into our Albions.
It being Christmas, and it coming but once a year, I have sent you
some of ours, which perhaps you won't print, but may serve to make
you laugh.
What three letters spell Archipelago--(what that is I don't know; but
this is the answer)--E. G. and C.
Why is a man about to put his father in a sack like a traveller on
his way to a city in Asia?--Because he is going to _Bag Dad_.
Why is a child with a cold in its head like a winter's
night?--Because "it blows, it snows."--(nose, you know.)
Why is the Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland like a man inquiring what
o'clock it is?--Because he is _as King_ for the time.
If a pair of spectacles could speak, what author would they
name?--Eusebius--(You see by us.)
Why is a flourishing landlord sure to have plenty of
relatives?--Because he must have _Ten-ants_.
What are the best shoes for wet weather?--_Pumps._
Why is a sermon on board ship like Sir Edward Codrington's red
ribband?--Because it is a _deck oration_.
Why is a very little devil sitting on the top of a cow-house like a
man who has squandered all his property?--Because he is _Imp over a
shed_.
What sea would one wish to be in on a rainy night?--_A dry attic._
Why is a libeller in Newgate like a traveller who has caught a
rheumatism at a bad inn?--Because he suffers for lying in damp sheets!
Why is a gentleman in a Calais packet on a stormy day, like a
gentleman sailing in part of the Mediterranean?--Because he is
amongst the _Cyclades_.
Why are glass coaches so plentiful in London?--Because they are
without number.
When is a door not a door?--When it is _a-jar_.
When is it more than a door?--When 'tis _to_!
Why is the root of the tongue like a dejected man?--Because it is
_down in the mouth_!
Why is a hired landau not a landau?--Because it is a _landau let_!
Why is a lean Monarch constantly worrying himself?--Because he is
always _a thin king_!
Why is a Tragedy a more natural performance in a theatre than a
Comedy?--Because the boxes are always in _Tiers_!
Why is Parliament-street like a compendium?--Because it goes to _a
bridge_!
If all the alphabet were invited to dinner, why could they not all
accept the invitation?--Because six of them come after T.
Why is a boy doing his first sums like a serpent erect?--Because he
is an _adder-up_!
And last, dear Mr. B. (which I will not tell you),
Why am I like a sheep's tail?
Yours always,
DOROTHEA R.
_Note._--Several of the above, with all respect to our dear friend
Dorothea, are extracted from that excellent paper the _Berkshire
Chronicle_, and others from a small book called "D'ye give it up?"
sold at a Charitable Bazaar, established at Kensington.
J.B.
XVII.
A LETTER FROM CHELTENHAM.
TO JOHN BULL.
Cheltenham, April 11, 1828.
MY DEAR B.,--I have been prevented writing you of late; two of my
youngest daughters have had the mizzles, which has been succeeded by
a cough and considerable expectation, but I have changed my doctor,
and shall do uncommon well now. The last person, who fancies himself
a second Hippocrite, had the impotence to say my girls had a low
fever--girls brought up as they have been, like duchesses--so I said
nothing; but when he called again, I was denied to him and sent for
his arrival; and we are all going on well, and keep up our spirits
accordingly.
A regiment is I believe the best thing after all; for I have just
discovered that Shakspeare, the mortal bird, as my son calls him,
died of indisgestion, which I did not know till my new doctor told
me so; he said, that poor Shakspeare was quite destroyed by common
tato's, which must have been some coarse sort of the root in use in
his time; and the doctor also told me, that he was attended by a
Doctor Johnson and a Mr. Stevens; but I thought to myself, too many
cooks spoil the broth; and even my medical said he thought he would
have done better if they had left him alone. What made us talk about
the great swain of Avon was my saying I thought She Stoops to Conquer a very droll play.
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