Chapter 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.

My son-in-law has bought a beautiful picture, a Remnant undoubted; it is as black as your hat, and shines like a tea tray, and is considered, as indeed it is, what the French call, a _shade over_ of that great master; he has also bought a jem of considerable vallew; he says it is an antic of a dancing fawn, but it looks to me like a man with a tail, a jumping. He has got several very curious things at shops here; but he goes poking his nose into all the oles and corners for curiosities, and sometimes gets into sad scrapes; he is a French Mounsheer, you recollect; and at one of the sails he scraped acquaintance with a young dandy-looking man with dark musquitos on his lips, which we had seen every morning a drinking the waters regularly, and so we let him walk and talk with us; and at last we was told that he was no better than he should be, and had been convicted of purgery, which I did not think so great a crime, considering where we was; however, he is gone away, which I am glad of.

I told you my son-in-law was a French Mounsheer, but I did not know till the other day that he was in the army, for he has been so sly as never to mention it; but I saw one of his letters from his elder brother, and in the direction he called him Cadet, which after all is no very high rank, you know. I should, however, have very much liked to have seen the boys from the Miliary Asslum march to the Surrey Theatre; it must have been a beautiful site; I suppose they got leave through the Egerton General's office.

Have you read Lord Normandy's _Yes or No_, or Mr. Liston's _Herbert Lacy_? I should think it must be very droll, he is such a droll cretur himself; and pray tell me if you have heard any news from Portingal of the Don. Major Macpherson calls him Don _M'Gill_, and Captain O'Dogherty calls him Don _My jewel_--how do you pronounce it? I am told Lord Doodley used to call him, while he was in London, _My gull_.

There is not much stirring here; the good effect of the waters is quite aperient in our family; we are all mending, and exorcise ourselves for four hours at a time on what is called the well walk, which is a different place from the sick walk, which is entirely for the innphaleeds. Lavinia has got hold of a book called _Bookarchy_, containing the lives of a hundred Knights, she says; but she won't shew it to her sisters as is not yet marred; it is translated out of a foren tongue by a Mr. D. Cameron; all the Scotch is very clever.

Mr. Fulmer is going to Hauksvut next term, to be made a Doctor of Laws. He says he shall be away only two days, but I doubt its being over so soon, because he told me himself it must be done by degrees. After he is made a Doctor, he says he means to practise; but I told him I thought he had better practise first, in order to understand what he has to do afterwards. A friend of his came here to see him from Hauksvut College, who I thought was a clergyman by his dress; but I found out, by what Mr. Fulmer told me, that it was an old lady in disguise, for he said she was Margaret Professor, and he even went so far as to call her a Divinity, which to me did seem uncommon strange. However, there is no understanding these scholars; for it is not more than a fortnight since, that Fulmer told me he expected a brazen-nosed man to dinner, and when the gentleman came, his nose was just like other people's: so I suppose it was to surprise Lavinia, who was reading a work on Nosology at the very time.

You will be pleased to hear that I have let my house in Montague Place, unfurnished with conveniences, for three hundred and twenty pounds a-year, besides taxis; and I have skewered a very nice residence in the Regent's Park, within ten doors of the Call-and-see-um where the portrait of St. Paul is to be exhibited, and where I hope you will visit us; my two youngest, which is a-shooten up, is uncommon anxious to know you, now they have made their debutt into saucyity. The young one is a feline cretur as ever trod shoe leather. The other is more of an orty crackter, with very high spirts. They are indeed quite Theliar and Molpomona of the Ramsbottoms.

If you should run down here before we leave for town, pray come and take pot-luck, which is all we can offer you at Cheltenham. You must take us as you find us: we are all in the family way, and, as you know, delighted to see our friends, without any ceremony.

Do right, dear B., and send us the noose; for really the old Engines who are here for their health look so billyus, that without something to enliven us, we should get worse instead of better.

Ajew, ever yours,
D. L. RAMSBOTTOM.

XVIII.

HASTINGS AGAIN.

TO JOHN BULL.

Hastings, July 8, 1828.

DEAR B.,--Here we are, after a short tower to Dip in France, in the esteem packet the _Tarbut_--my fourth has been mylad, as the French say, and was recommended a little voyage, and she picked up an old bow, which talked to her in French, and called her a belley spree, which I thought was impotence, but Lavinia said no, and reminded me of judy spree, which is another gallowsism, as they style them--but why they call this place green and young Hastings, which is old and brown, I don't know--they are going, however, to move it about a mile nearer Bexhill, to the stone where William the Third landed when he had conquered the Normans--our old bow said it was a capital sight for a town; but as yet I couldn't see much, although everybody is taking the houses before they are built.

We was a-staying with a couzen of mine near Lewis, before we crossed the sea--he is married, and has a firm hornee, which his wife calls a Russen hurby, it is so close to the town, and yet so uncommon rural--the sheep he has, is called marinos, because it is near the sea; and their wool is so fine that they fold them up every night, which I had no notion of--they have two sorts of them, one, which they call the fine weather mutton, stays out all night, I believe, and the other doesn't. But the march of intellect is agoing on, for the dirty boys about the farm-yard, they told me, are sent to Harrow, and the sheep themselves have their pens found them every night; what to do I don't know, and I never like to ask--at Battle, where there is an old abbé living--we did not see him--they have built a large chapel for the Unicorns; I scarcely know what sex they are--I know the Whistling Methodists, because when Mr. Ram and I was young we used to go to the meetin, and hear them preach like anything--there's a great deal of religion in Sussex of one sort and another.

My eldest, Mrs. Fulmer, has come here for her a-coach-man--Fulmer wishes it may be a mail, because what they have already is all gurls; if it hadn't been for that, I should have gone to Mrs. Grimsditch's soreye at Hackney last week, when I was to have been done out as Alderman Wenables, but I was obliged to be stationary here. I was so sorry to see in the noosepapers that when the Lord High Admiral exhibited his feet on the 18th of June, Maria Wood was dressed up so strange; they said that after she had been painted, and some part of her scraped clean from duck weed, they tied flags to her stays, and put a Jack into her head, which I think quite wrong, because them Jacks is uncommon insinuating.

I see that in Portingal Don Myjewel has got three estates, but they cannot be very grand ones, if they produces only a crown; however, I don't know what they mean in that country, only as they call him real, I suppose he is the rightful king--I don't henvy him, Mr. B.--there's many happier than them as sets upon thorns, though they be gilded ones.

We met one of the Engines here from Cheltenham--he talks of returning to some friend of his in Hingy, I think he called him Ben Gall. I know he spoke very familiar of him. He has been at Stinkomalee, in Sealong, and at the Island of Malicious, where a gentleman of the name of Paul killed himself with Virginia. Our Engine said he was at Malicious and at Bonbon at the time of the Conquest, which my Trusler's Crononhotonthologos tells me was in the year 1072, which makes his old appearance not surprising--he is very antick indeed--he says he shall go out in a China ship, which sounds to me very venturesome, but I suppose he knows what he is about--he is going to Bombay, he tells us, to buy cotton, but that, between you and me, is nonsense, because if that was all, why could he not go to Flint's, in Newport-market, where they sells every sort of cotton, all done up in nice boxes ready for use?

One thing I heard about hunting while I was at the Firm Hornee which I thought shocking. There is a Squire Somebody which keeps a pack of beadles, and there is ever so many of them--and they sleep in the kennell every night, and a man is paid to whip them into it--but that is not the worst--they feed them upon humane flesh. You would not scarce credit this, but I heard my cousin say that he wondered this hot weather did not hurt the dogs, for that they had nothing to feed on but the Graves.--Do just touch them up for this--I am sure they deserve it.

That selection for member of Parliament in Clare is very strange, isn't it? Our old bow tells us that O'Connell can't take his place because he won't swear against transportation, for he says it is one thing for a Papist to stand and another for him to sit, which _enter noo_ I could have told _him_--however, he says he thinks O'Connell will go to the Pigeon House strait from the selection. Of course I did not like to ask what he wanted to do in such a place as a Pigeon House, and so the conversation dropped; indeed, the bow (as we call him) told us such a strange story about Mr. O'Connell's getting to the top of a pole the first day, and keeping up there for four days afterwards, that I begin to think he tells tarrydiddles sometimes. He is very agreeable though, and I believe he is rich, which is the mane point when one has gurls to settle. He is always a making French puns, which he calls cannon balls,[15] but I never shall be much of a parley vous, I did not take to it early enough.

We expect the Duke of Clarence to review the Blockhead service on this coast, which will make us uncommon gay. He will visit the _Ramlees_, which Captain Piggut commands, at Deal, and the _Epergne_, Captain Maingay's ship, at New Haven. I should like to go to Brighton, but Fulmer is afraid of movin his better half while she is so illdisposed, and expectin every minute; however, when that is over we shall, I dare say, go to London, and hope to see you in our new house. If you come here we shall delight in seeing you; but I believe you like London, and never leaves the bills of morality, if you can help it. Adoo, dear B. They all sends their loves.

Yours,
LAVINIA D. RAMSBOTTOM.

P.S.--You write sometimes about the Niggers, and abuse them--depend upon it they are uncommon mischievous even here; for my couzen told me that the Blacks had got all his beans--I only gives this as an int.

XIX.

NEWS FROM HASTINGS.

TO JOHN BULL.

Hastings, Aug. 4, 1828.

DEAR B.,--It is all over--Lavy is as well as can be expected--she was put to bed with a gull, which sadly disappointed Fulmer, who was very desirous of having a sun and air. We have had another burth in our family, of which I says nothing--the dennymang of that fox paw[16] has been uncommon unpleasant; however, when such things happen to females, they must grin and bear them, as the saying goes.

We have found out who our old bow is: he is the Count Narly, a French mounsheer of high rank, and acquainted with Prince Pickle and Mustard, the gentleman who was at the haughtycultural breakfast with Mrs. Wise, the day she was so silly as to try to drown herself in a bason--if it had not been that one of the Human Society had picked her up, she must have been a lost cretur--Fulmer calls her a diving bell, but I'm sure I don't know why.

Count Narly is very conversible, only he talks all in French--Fulmer says that he is too much of a hegoatist, and that all his nannygoats are about himself. He is acquainted with Mr. Brunel, who has put his toenail under the river Thames, who has asked him to visit him in London.

I was very glad to see some partitions in Parlyment against sutties--the sooner they does away with the poor little climbing boys the better--no wonder they burn themselves sometimes--and I see it is just the same in Hingy, although one wouldn't think they wanted fires there.

As soon as ever Lavy gets about we are going to Brighton to drink the water, which some gentlemen there makes for the use of inphalids--it is uncommon curious how they do it; but I'm told that you may get there the Side-shoots and the Side-lights, and the Carls bad water, (I don't know if they have any of that sort, good,) and the Spawn water, and the Arrowgate, and Matchlock, and Hems, and Gentleman salts; indeed, any sort you like to ask for--however, I don't think I shall like Brighton much in this summer wether, they tell me there are so many flies about. The 10th Huzzas are also there, which I want very much to see--the foot regimen is moved from there, in consequence, I suppose, of the quarrel between our King and Don M'cgill, and, from all I can make out of it, a very silly quarrel it is. Last year or so we were all going to loggerheads because one man liked Turkey better than Grease, and now we are to have a blow up because they cannot decide whether Port or Madeira should be opened first--I have no patience with such stuff. I think if folks are to quarrell, women is a better thing to quarrell about than wine, and so the Autograph of Russia and the Grand Senior think, for they, I see, are fighting about two of the fair secks, Bess Harabia, and Moll Davy.

There has been some dreadful wether here; the other evening, as I was sitting at my twilight, preparing to go to bed, the eclectic fluid looked quite awful, and the winds blowd tremendous; indeed the raging of the elephants was terrific; two gentlemen were upset in a boat, and obleeged to swim ashore in their He-meeses; at least that is what I supposes French for shirts, because what the ladies wear they call She-meeses; however, such has been the reign that it has come down in Torrens, and if our Bows had not provided themselves with Duck Trousers and Pumps, I don't know what they would have done.

The Secretairer of the Treasury is down here; he lives by Fire-light in this nayborhood--I suppose he come from the West Hinges, for they tell me he is a Planter as well as a Hempee, which Fulmer says he is.

I have heard a new comehumdrum, which is a very fashionable amusement here--"Why is the gravy of a leg of pork the best gravy in the world?"--"Because there's no Jews like it." I do not know where the joke is, only I spose there is one. I have hardly any thing to say, only I thought you would like to hear of Lavy's acoachman, and our prospect of removal from this place, which is not at all to my gout.

Yours always, dear B.,
DOROTHEA L. RAMSBOTTOM.

XX.

MRS. RAMSBOTTOM GIVES HER OPINION OF THE RELATIVE MERITS OF MARGATE AND BRIGHTON.

TO JOHN BULL.

Oct. 1828.

MY DEAR B.,--We are at length arrived in the subbubs of London. Since crowds of people have been collected at the Traitor's and Restorers in Regent-street, I am afraid to date this, lest the folks should come to look at us--but you can easily find out the redress at Fulmer's hothell.

We came last from Margate, which to my mind is far prefferible to Briton. At Briton you have always the great bright sparkling Ossian surfeiting the jingle from morning till night, enough to put one's eyes out, and drive one deaf--at Margate there is a beautiful arbour, in which there is no water whatsomever for twelve hours out of every twenty-four, which affords the curos observer a full view of Ossian's bottom: besides, instead of nasty hard jingle and stones, it is all beautiful blue mud, the sight of which, added to the smell of the juice from the gash works above, reminds one of the dear Mephistopholis, to the neighbourhood of which we have returned.

Then the Peer at Margate is quite a different thing from the jigumaree, swing swang, jinkum linkum thing at Briton. At Margate it is all fixed--built of white stone, and painted pee-green on the inside, which makes it look quite beautiful; besides, at Briton you see nothing partiklur on the Chain-peer but the sea, and the company, and the clifts, and the vessels; but at Margate, besides all the predestinarians a walking, you have stage coaches, flies, waggons, cars, and sociables, ready to take you all over the country, not to speak of carts a fetching coals out of the arbour, and men at the Jetty a bringing in fish alive out of the sea.

The Marine Libray, at Margate, is a beautiful building, with two windows in front, and a wooden gallery at the back of the shop, over the mud--there's nothing in Briton to equal that--and as to the King's statute, by Shantry, what is it to the beautiful image of Nipchune, the great sea god, in black, nailed up again the gable end of the marine, just a going to spear an eel as natural as life. Then the streets--snug and comfortable--none of your great straggling prades or esplanades--no--pleasant retreats, where opposite neighbours can shake hands without leaving their rooms--this is quite agreeable; it is always shady, and besides, it creates an intrust, as Mr. Fulmer says, when strolling along a street not to know on which side of the way one is walking.

The church here is beautiful--not like Briton, stuck down in a vally; it is up on the top of the hil, so that one is half way to heaven before one is a quarter of the way to the church; howsumever, the Galls can see it from Callous if they look sharp, that's one thing. The stone it is made of, is got out of the bath.

The great hotel at Margate is called House, and is situated in Chisel-square--a most splendid hairy, something like Salsbury-square in Fleet-street, only not quite so munificent; here they have luckily succeeded in getting rid of the sea altogether; indeed they have been very fortunate in their attempts in many other places. One of my neices is agoing to open a semenary here, in which I hope she will suckseed; at present she has several pupils in her eye--at least she tells _me_ so, but Mr. Fulmer says she can have but one--so I suppose she phibbs.

The baths here are uncommon agreeable; they are not like the baths at Briton, great staring houses, but nice little low rooms, like the cabins of packets, with a railed place behind where you wait till the water comes in to the arbour, of which I spoke before; but it is not there always punctual at the same time, which is a grate boar; to be sure the ships does lie nice and easy with their bottoms in the mud, and the sailors quite quiet aboard, with all their cabals on the shore. Some very spirted gentleman has dug some baths out of the cliff, with a music room under ground quite subtraining, with a way for the donkies to go down to it, without stares; the view of Ossian from a hole cut in the chork is very rheumatic: Fulmer says the digging them holes is a very wise way of sinking a capital. I hope it will anser.

At Briton the grate libray used to be kept by Donald's son, whoever he was; the grate libray at Margate is kept by Betty's son, whoever _she_ is, for they dont tell us their sirnames; it is a large room, quite snug and away from the sea, in a square called Horley--very different from Hawley on the way to Briton. At _that_ Hawley Mr. Pickhisnails keeps the hin, has a fine booshy head of air, sleeps in top boots, and paints the stems of his trees sky blew for huniformity's sake. In the Horley-square at Margate, there are, besides Betty's sons, some uncommon nice boring houses, where a lady can live genteel and comfortable, without washing, for a jenny and a half a week.

Onion Crescent is near this, and is reckoned very pleasant, and so it is. There is no glare in Margate, to hurt the eyes. The houses look always upon the bax of others, which keeps away the son in summer, and the wind in winter. I know at Briton we was very much troubled with the wind when we lived on the Marrying Prade--at Margate it is quite different.

Fulmer, who is what is called a geehologist, says there is much amusement to be found amongst the Clifts. He talks of finding his sisters and taking his quarts, of which I never heard him speak afore, and he told us the other day that he had dug up some bedlamites. What he has done with them I dont know. The things he shewed me were, I believe, only their finger nails--they looked just like it.

With respect to the bathing, it is much more descent than at Briton, for the machines here have yawnings over them, by which means nobody can see one, however much they looks. We went to visit Dandelion, once a public garden. They say the place took its name from a lion's tooth; I'm sure I have heard something very unlike _that_, if it is what _I_ mean.

We came away from this trestial parodice in the _Harlequin_ steamer, and a large party we was: it was uncommon agreeable, only there was what is called a swell, which did not agree with the buttered toast, red herrings, honey, eggs, and tea, which we tuck as a remedy agin sickness. Mr. Fulmer said we had rolls as well as tost for breakfast, which made a thin gentleman in a white hat, which sot oposite us, laugh very much.

I did not go upon dick after heaten, but I heard them talk of seeing a great many boys about in the water; one was a boy with a horse, and another a boy with the bacon on his head. One of the first they saw, they said was the last, which seemed nonsense to me. However, they said there was several Spaniards a swimming near the pacquet, so I would not let my young ones go up.

To be sure, what phibbs travellers do tell--we was a talking of the great exhibition of the gurney to London by steam, when a gentleman told us, looking as grave as a gudge, that he and his father had made the Rickulvers in an hour and a quarter, after leaving the Noah light that day week: of course I said nothing--but I was certain as I was of being alive and living, that neither the gentleman nor his father had anything to do with making the Rickulvers, which I myself saw three and twenty years ago--and to make them in an hour and a quarter! However, everybody seemed to believe him--I only asked what profession he was of, and they told me he was imminent in the Tayloring line. That settled it--"Two tailors," as the French says--the very highdea of their talking of making the Rickulvers just as they would a pair of pantaloons--and them they could not make in an hour and a quarter, binding, button-holes and all, I'm sure.

When we got into smooth water, I went upstairs to see Noah's light, and there I saw the ark, with the lantern, and I believe Noah himself a walking up and down the dick. I asked one of the sailors if the men which was walking was never changed, and he said, every four hours; but that the man we saw, had been there ever since the flood--which convinced me. We saw from this, Sheerness with a river, which is Midway between Margate and town, and is called so.

I was very glad when the water was smooth, for I hate the big bellows a rolin, and so I told the gentleman in the airy cap which turns the wheel about--and he said we should have found it much ruffer if we had not come overland. This puzzled me, because I thought we was coming by sea all the time I was below, it bumped me about so--but he persisted in what he said, and moreover said something very disrespectful of the people of the place we had left, which he called the Margate flats. Everything seemed to clear up as we proceeded; we had Lee church on our wether bow, as the gentleman told me--the waters were called Hopes, and the sands were blithe--and we was all golly and uncommon hungary--so down we went to wait till the dinner came, which was some nice bile mutton and turnips with caper sauce, which occupied me all the way from a little above Tilbury Furt to Erin, which looks just as green as Mr. More, the pote, says it is.

At Gravesend we took in a gentleman, who gave us an account of the Grand Signior having sent out a fireman against the Roosians, which was a gettin beat by the Turkeys--however, as we was to go ashore at Grinnage, we had no time for pollyticks, having in course to look up the bundles and ban-boxes. Lavy went by land, on account of her child, and her misfortunes was greater than ores, for she left her black silk riddykel in the coch, containing the best part of a bottle of O de Goalong, a salmon-coloured neck handkycher, and a pair of nice yellow tan gloves--her brother went all the way to the Bare coach office in Pickadilly the next morning, but could hear no tidings on 'em.

When we come opposite the Horsespittle at Grinnage, we got into a boat and landed just by the Ship, which smelt of frying fish as ousel. I think if I had not committed an indiscretion with the bile leg of mutton, we should have been tempted to stop and have some stoodells and whatasujet--as it was, we got into our domstic, a carriage so called, and proceeded by Peckham and Cammerwell home.

I shall write again soon.--I am to be presented to the Quin of Portingal--the Countess of Itabagpipes was known to some of Fulmer's cousins in the brass heel country, which is the reason she wishes me to lend her my counting-house and purtection; so, one day next week I shall go in by the Stockwell stage, and visit the Court in Arlington-street. As for Jennyfluxion, I hope her Majesty will excuse me, for though poor Chunee, I remember, used to do it at Exeter Change, if I was once to get down upon my kneeses I am quite sure I never could git up again--but I shall communicate in a private billy with Lady Bagpipes on the subject.

Lavy desires her best love--Fulmer is as proud as a Pig-hog of his little gull, and my unmarried ones quite as unspohastickated as ever--there _was_ a gentleman at Margate did give the youngest a sort of tittilation of the heart, and she had only two helps of beef and one plate of soup at dinner for three days in consequence of her tinder felings, but he went off in the _Ramona_ the morning it carried passengers greatass, and so did my girl's infection for him, and the next day she sung "I've been roaming," and took to her vitals just as if nothing had happened.--Adjou.

DOROTHEA L. RAMSBOTTOM.

XXI.

MRS. RAMSBOTTOM CONTEMPLATES THE COLLECTION OF HER LETTERS INTO A VOLUME.

TO JOHN BULL.

January 25, 1829.

DEAR B.,--I write to you on a bizziness of some consequence to me--I have been applied to by some of the first jenny asses of the day to colic my lettuce into one volume, and publish them: so I spoke to my sun in law Fulmer, who has offered to hedit them, and put notes to them, which I at first thought meant setting them to mewsick, which I by no means wanted, although he offered to do it grateass. He has now explained his meanun, and I am going to get Mr. Golburn to print them in a doodecimus book, with a prefass and portrait, to be done from a Minotaur by Causeway, which is reckoned the himmige of me when I was a gull, and for wich Mr. Ram. paid Mr. Causeway, (quite a Minotaur of a man himself,) fifty jinnies.

You know I never rot to anybody but you, although some impotent parsons have dared to call themselves the hawthurs of my lettus. There is one of them squarecap fellows belonging to the Magdalen at Hauksfut--which they say lives upon Ices--he says he rot some of them, and one at Eating College says _he_ helped me, and another, a bare blockhead whose name I never heard afore, goes about and says _he_ rot 'em for me. He had better mind his tye pigs, and adjustments, and dews and surplices, I can tell him, for all his tong runs so glebe; for I never sot eye on him, nor he on me, as I nose of--however, I am dissolved upon publishing them out and out. Mr. Golburn wants them to come out in sheets, but I dont think that quite _come ill fo_.

There is a moneyment of two old gentlemen who were my Aunt's sisters, in a church in Lincumshire, done by Mr. Ruebellyache the great Sculpture, which was admired by the late Mr. Noddlecums, whose life has been published by his Taylor, and which cuts him up, sure enough--I should like to have the view of this family Muzzleheum in the book, if I could get it done in the new fashioned style of Lithotomy, because it shoes all the harms of our family, Lions sergeants, and the Lions parsons, and the Lions ramping, with the shiverings and mullets, and argents, and oars, and sables, and gulls, and all that, which we bore ever since William the Conqueror came over with Quin Mary, of hoom, no doubt, you have read.

My Mr. Ramsbottom's family, although very good, is not connected with that of the Hempee for Winsor, which family is eyely respectable in their whey, and quite sillybratted for bruin the bear, wich is so patternized in the neighbrood. Mr. Fulmer says, my dear Mr. Ram is quite a different ramification, but he thinks if you would just reckumend us to the Biblepole (I think he calls Mr. Goulburn) he could make three volums out of my letters, what letters I have received, his own notes, and all the notes the gals has got by way of orthographs, and a dairy, which my dear Mr. Ram kept till the day before he did.

I took my two eldest unmarried, the other day, to Mr. Devil's in the Strand, to be felt--they call him Mr. De Feel, but he spells it Deville, and calls _himself_ Mr. De Huile--he is a Hoyl-man and a great proffessor of what is called _Free-knowledgey_[17]--he shewed us the head of Sterne, which wrote many books, and also that of Sir Eyes-ache Newton, the great astrologer--he says I have the largest number one he ever saw, and when I cum away he sneered, and bid me take care of number one, as if everybody didn't do that without _his_ telling.--He wanted to put a plaster on my head, and smear my face with some of his lampile, and stick squills up my nose, and take what he called a cast of my Hosfrontis--but I would not have none of his manoovers with me, and I was very well pleased when I found myself out of the shop.

Only think, Mr. B., of Lord Angelseye coming home--he is left tenant of the castle no longer. Mr. Fulmer says he is like a hair which gives up doubling when it takes to turning. I am quite sorry to think what a state he must be in. Miss Biffin, or Billy Bowldish, the corpulent gentleman who used to bump himself along the streets in a band-box, an't nothing to compare with him. His Lordship told the people of Ireland that he had left his _heart_ with _them_. Fulmer says, before he said _that_, he must have lost his _head_, and I seed one of his _legs_ buried at Whataloo--of course, after that, the only thing left for him was to pack up his _trunk_, and come home; but pollyticks I seldom tuches, only I _does_ like plain dealing.

Will you please to let me here from you, for you are a sad idol corryspondent--you promises to rite, and never dus, which is very disapinting. However, you must rite to give us leaf to print the Ramsbottom Papers, which has been redressed to you--give me your opinion about the minotaur and the muzzleum, and believe me, dear B.,

Your's, truly and sincere,
LAVINIA D. RAMSBOTTOM.

All our curcle join in kind regards--we have all got colds, and guittars, and quinces, and roomatez--but we can expectorate nothing less this cold wether.

XXII.

MRS. RAMSBOTTOM'S OPINIONS ON POPERY.

TO JOHN BULL.

Gravesend, April 2, 1829.

MY DEAR B.,--I have taken a trumpery residence hear for the seeson for the health of my therd gull, which is frequently effected with a goose. I send you up a copy of the Gravesend Guide, which will explain all the booty of the place, and all its convenences; the passage in the steemboat is cheap and agreble, and we run up and down every two or three tims in the weak.

Oh, B. B., I have got a krow to plock with you--I cannot make out what makes you such a stench Protestant; poor dear Mr. Ram never could bear Poppery, but I am afraid he was a biggoat at bottom, for the mounsheer which marred my second, tells me that it is a sweat religion, and that you can always get ablution for paying for it--which is very pleasant.

I remember the riots of Hayti, when they burnt old Newgate and got to all the goals; they raised several houses to the groand, and burned Lord Mansfield's house in Bloomsbury-square, which was of brick and stone; what would they have done with his Willy up at Highgate, which is all made of Cane-wood; yet after all these I see he goes on in the Hose of Pears a speeking agin the Roming Catlicks just as if nothin had happened to him; he must be very antickated now I shoud think.

You have heard, in course, that the new Pop is erected. Mounsheer tells me that Ginger was a very good Pop as ever was--he died notwithstanding his infallowbility--all Pops go off--and that's as it should be, for as they lives infallowbill so they infallowbelly dies. Mounsheer told me that it was thought that either Carnal Fetch or Carnal Comealongo would have been erected Pop, but that Charles Deece would have put his Feeto upon Fetch, so they have erected Castellioneye--they put poor Ginger after his deth into a cistern, with his holy toes a protruding out of a grating for the people to kiss.

I should have liked to be in Room when the concave was held. Oh Mr. B. you very much mistake the Catlick Priesthood. All the stories you hear of the Carnals keeping columbines is entirely calomel--they nose better than to do such things as those--for my part, I hop to see the day when all extinction of religion is forgot, and we shall see all our halters occupied by Popish Priests. What does Mr. More, the allmyknack maker, say on this toepick--

"Shall I ask the brave soger what fites by my side,
In the kaws of mankind if our creeds agree?
Shall I give up the friend I have vallied and tried,
If he kneel not afore the same halter with me?
From the hairytick gull of my sole shall I fly,
To seek somewhere's else a more authordox kiss?
No--perish the harts and the laws as try,
Truth, walour, and love, by a standurd like this."

I says ditto, ditto, to Mister More; why should we Hairyticks stick up for our authordoxies, or any other sich, or despise the Roming Catlicks--why, we are decanters from the holy church ourselves, just as much as the Sauceinions and the Hairyuns,[18] and the Whistlings, or any others, are from hours--can't we wusship, every one after his own fashion--look at the Quackers--there's a sex, so pyehouse, and demure, and desunt, in everything good and propper.

Why, do _you_ know, Mr. B., the Quacker ladies goes down to Grinnage, and Woolidge, and Popular, and the Isle of Docks, and all them parts, to phissit the poor feemale convix, which is about to be transpirted to Von Demons Land and Bottomy bay, where the illustrus Cook first found out the Cangarews--poor gulls, I think it a pitty to send out the pretty Lassenies, they are some on 'em so juvenal. Oh, Muster B., what must their Rum and essences be when they reclects Tim past--some on 'em if they are hard working meretricious gulls, get marred as soon as they gets to the Coloony, and when they does, Mr. Fulmer tells me they play the very dooce with the Malt house system, which I spose means that they drink too much hail, and bear in proporshun.

A navel sergeant goes to take care on 'em, and see as they wants for no thing--he locks them up every night, and never suffers no _Foxes paws_, but keeps them quite creckt, and they are in sich order that he has only just to talk of the lock and the key to subdoo e'm in a minuet--poor creturs, them as I seed where chairful, and not one of them was wiping, they had plenty of vitals, and spoke of the Coloony as a nice place, and called the Guvenor a Darling--but it seems wretched work--to hope for happiness there, is to follow an English Fattyus, which you know is a Will of the Whips, which is seed in the mashes.

But anuff of this--rite me word what you think of the Hopra--I think Pisarowneye is a bootiful singer--I dont much like Specky, and as for Mountijelly she harn't got no vice--not what I call a sweet vice--Miss Blazes is harmonias, but I see by the bills that they have denounced an Angel and a Devil to act, which I do not think _come il pho_. I have not seen Suck Kelly, nor Bellygreeny, but I recleck Mollybrown Garshia quite well. The new ballad of Mass and Kneelo is quite splendead--there is a him to the Vergin, sung just like Tedium in a church, and Wesuewius in the rear is quite tremendos. Colonel O'Conner said he never saw a more beautiful crater in all his born days, and he is quite a jug of those matters.

_Haprowpow dee Botts_--Why do you satyreyes my friends Lethbridge and Fillpott--you give a whole chapter to the Dean every Sunday which is too much, and as for calling Sir Tomass a rat, I deny the fack--at least if he _is_ a rat, the day I saw him at dinner with Lord Wenerables he must have twisted his tail into the bag behind him, for I saw none of it.

I have no noose, except that we all wish you would come and explode these parts--perhaps you will, after you have red the guide. The passage is short and iconumical, only two shillings by the steam bot, or as the French call it, the _pack bot avec peur_. Do come--we all unite in best regards.

Yours, truly,
LAVINIA DOROTHEA RAMSBOTTOM.

XXIII.

MRS. RAMSBOTTOM AT THE ROYAL ACADEMY.

May, 1829.

DEAR B.,--As you haven't given any count of the Summerset House expedition, which opened as weasal, the fust Monday in May, I thoght perhaps a few loose remarks of mine and Lavy's would be exceptable, therefore I rite to give you an int of what _we_ think.

Oh, that Precedent, Sir Tummas Larrence--I never seed such pitchers as his--but I need not talk of those, because you nose his merits--what I want is, to bring to your notice some of the young uns.

Well, B., away we went Wensday, and paid our munney at the dore, and the man gave us a chick, and we bought our catlog, and then another man tuck away my parisot, which never happened to me before, the many ears I have seen in that place--he told me if I gave him my one, he would give me a number--which deseived me, so I let him have it, and he gave me a curd--this was just at the bottom of the great Achilles with the fir knees wich is kept in a bird cage, to prevent the people hurting his back--well, up we went--such a stare case--so hot was I--however, at last up we got.

The fust pitcher I seed was Adam and Heve expulsed from Paradise, by Debuffe. In buff I think--I never seed such a thing in all my days, and no reason for it, because it was after the date of the fig leaves--no matter--I turned away my eyes to Doctor Gobbleston, the Bishop of Llandaff, and a plainer creatur I never set my eyes on--his face looks for all the world as if he had been a rat hunting up a chimley. I couldn't look at him long. The next I saw was "I. Strutt, Esqueer, and his sister." I'm sure that is a likeness; and the next is called "a Gentleman," which I am sure can_not_ be a likeness.

Lord Caravan, with a sword on, is a fine work, and so is a big picture of a Hero going to Philander in the Tower; and near that is one of a Gull with a Guttar, with sich funny pudsy fingers, which made Lavy laugh so as I was quite ashammed of her. Then there is one by Mr. Willes of a Dream, where "Puck takes away an asses head from bottom,"--it is so in the catlog, and I wonder at it--but no matter--I'm sure I felt quite in jeffery when I read such a thing in a book--and Mr. Newton, my favourite, what drawed the Disconsolate Lady in white satan, which hided her head in her hankycher, at the British Gallary, has got the pitcher of a Lady in a Coach-horse Dress, uncommon pretty; and Mr. Picksgill has got Sir Jeffery Dunstan with his gray locks a dangling just as I remember him when he was Mare of Garret, only bigger.

An artist of the name of Bedstead has a picture of two whole Snips, and also of two Jack Snips--which is meant for birds, but I never heard of sich afore. There is also Sir Roger de Coverlee and the Gypsums, and a picture of Lord Drum, (Lampton as was,) by Larrence, like as to phechurs, but not his compleckshun. I wish my Lord had sot to Turner, he would have done him betterer.

Mr. Barraud has a pitcher of his own painting, which he calls the Study of an Ass--how funny!--and there is Miss Phillips of Drury-lane, with a long waste, and no more like her pretty face than I am like her--instead of Dawe after this pitcher they should have put Dawb. Mr. Landseer has got a picture of a dead oh dear, and there is a pitcher of Colonel Johnson, who is called the Cove of Mustcat.

No. 241 is a pitcher of Zebuses and Quaggas, so like you cannot think; and another of the Bishop of Rochester--such a dandy--smirking and smooth faced, with a fancy wig--not a bit of the regelation cut about it--but no matter--he was only the Bishop of Soda the other day--Family made the Mann, and ratting made the Bishop.

There is a french pitcher of crowning a dead body, and a gentleman what is a King, with white stays and a blue walking-stick, a watching on it; and there is a Mr. Luck, secretairer to the London Institution, which is either a piece of bad luck or a bad likeness. In the Antick Acadamme there are two pitchers which are worth looking at--one, _Baron Carl Ashating von Triggum_, and the other _Major Von de Roggery Sue Peppercorn_. I loves 'em for their names. Mr. Smith exhibits some specie of Cactus from natur, which of course I did not look at--and No. 576 is the portrait of a Colonel, so like a horse, that if you was not told it was a military officer you never would find it out.

I cannot go all through the catlog--in the model-room, there is the head of a Rabbit, so like an old closeman that I never should have taken it for the little hannimal what hops about; and a buteful busk of Lady Elizabeth Gower, which was the only thing I saw I should like to have had--unless, indeed, it was the great Chanticleer which hangs in the top room, which the King gave the Acadammee; however, I should have staid longer, but a poor gentleman, a stout lustful man, slipped down the stares just as we was looking about, and broke his leg, so bad that we heard he suffered an imputation the same night--this quite shocked Lavy, who has a feline disposition, and can't bear to see any thing hurt--so we came home; but I shall go again, and perhaps rite you some more of my observashuns.--Yours ever,