Part 10

However one accident happened--somethink always does happen wherever we go. My second was beautifully dressed--all after one of the Magaseens, and quite unlike any body else--and somehow or other--I dont know whether it was the whet or what--but part of her close tumbled off; however the Bows which was about thought it was one of her sleeves, and nobody cared except her husband Mounsheer, who was quite in a bustle at loosing anything, and _would_ make her tell him all about it, because he was terrified at seeing her so very much reduced in figger in so short a space of time--Mounsheer got it back from one of the Artillery Bumbardeers which was in the garden to watch the river for fear it should get dry--howsoever there was plenty of water this time.

Well, B., after we had eat in four places, and tried for the fifth, but could get nothing but the bottoms of Hams, which Fulmer twisted into "Hamsbottoms," and made it rhyme to my name, we went out just for a minuet, thinking the rein had sopsided; but we had scarce got out of the heating place when down it come agin, and we was obliged to run for it--(I don't run very expedishus at any time, much less after what I had eat)--and got into what is called the committee-room, a place as dark as pitch, and smelling like a seed shop; indeed I never seed such a place in my life; and there was the Tyrrelease Pheasants, and sich a silly gull a asking them all manner of foolish questions about their singeing their Tyrrellease kitches or whatever they are. This warn't lost upon Fulmer--and I have preserved that virse--

"God save the King was the best of the shew for us, And it was greeted with loyalty's roar; But when they sang the words 'Long to _rain_ over us,' Nature herself seemed to call an _encore_. 'Twas in the committee room, Dark as a city room, By no means a pretty room, Close to the gate; Amongst the complainers, Thus warbled the Rainers, Most apt entertainers, For Saturday's _Fete_."

Well, B., and after that, I am sorry to say when it got to hold up for a minuet again, the Bows, which I thought had been a carrion the Shimpain and the vitals to the ladies, shewed by their conduct that they had only got the things in the names of the fair sects, and as Fulmer said had added to the frauds of the neutral flags, by taking to themselves, under false pretences, what was shipped for other people--they was quite inhebriated, and played very improper pranks--Fulmer said, that he himself saw one lady play _Merry tricks_, but if so, I dare say she'll try _new tricks_ before she comes there again--however, the conduct of the men was quite obstropolous, and one of them spoke to my seckond as if he had been introdeuced, and when he asked her name, and she said Ramsbottom, he behaved more imperently than he had done before, and said that he had noed us all long ago. I'm sure he never noed me, nor none of my daughters, and so I told him, and I begged Mr. Fulmer to find out the Secrethairy, Mr. Sabine, to come and speak to the imperent poppy; but Fulmer told me that we had better go away as fast as we could, for that when men were in _that_ state none of the Sabines would be safe; so of course I would not go to hinger a respectable family, and we got over our uncles to the gate, where we found our servant Jenkins in the custardy of the offisers, for nocking down a beetle belonging to the gardner, which would not let him poke his knows in to look for us. So Fulmer did, (what, considering the weather, was quite necessary,) gave his curd to the pelisseman, and baled out the footman.

But I must say a Jew, and I cannot help thinkin how surprized Fulmer will be when he sees your pepper in the mornun. Lavy has been in bed ever since the Feet; our cousin Kate has got a swelled face; the Hauls have both got bad coughs, and Mounsheer and his wife have been takin teasannes every nite and morning; however, I hope we shall soon get about, and if what I have saved out of the phier is of any use, you are welkum.--Yours, dear B., always,

DOROTHEA L. RAMSBOTTOM.

XXV.

A LETTER FROM WALMER

TO JOHN BULL.

Warmer, near Deal, Oct. 13, 1829.

MY DEAR B.,--I only right you a short Billy do, to tell you we are all combing to the Mephistophiles on Twosday. Some of us travails by the Dover onion, an uncommon good stag, and Lavy and her spouse in their broach.

What I have cheefly to say is, that I have been purveiled upon to publish my Original Letters to you in a serious--Fulmer is kind enuff to say he will do notes to them, and write a biggraphical scratch of my life, and have my head in a plate for a fruntispece--I beleive I am to be lithotomized, which is cheaper than copper.

You have my premishon to hannounce my work, which I should like to call the Book of the Breakfast Parlor, but Fulmer thinks the "Ramsbottom Papers" better.

Yours ever, D. L. RAMSBOTTOM.

L.S.--What do you think of poor Mam Hood, the Great Signior of the Turkies--he is humbled--and to an Irish usurper; for so I conclood Nicholas the Autograph of the Rushes to be, seeing that his name of Nick is only a nick name, and that he calls himself Paddy Shaw--surely he ought to know beast.

L.S. (2)--I comb to town with an Aikin art; the wotchmen are beat off their beats, and we shall never see their lantarns nor heer their "agreable rattles," as the play-book says, henny more. I wish Muster Peel had not ordered his new blue pelisse till the Spring, for in the dark nights, when the Fox of Lunnun is in the streets, I do love to lisson to the our a bean cried, while we are all coucheying in our lees.

Adoo, wunsmore.

* * * * *

We submit this letter as we have received it; and our readers will, like ourselves, gather from it, that our esteemed correspondent, like other great ladies, has resolved to appear in print. We have since ascertained that the work will appear shortly, in one volume, with the promised notes and illustrations.

XXVI.

A PECK OF TROUBLES.

TO JOHN BULL.

March, 1830.

DEAR B.,--It is a long while since I wrote to you, but I have been in a pick of trubbles about my famlie. Lavv's youngest has been vascillated, and the various matter did not take a feckt--so that she tuck the small pock natrally, and I fear will be very much pitied when she comes to grow up--however, I must right you a short letter.

You remember my lemontations about the removal of the Wochmen--I have quite changed my mind, and am all for the new blue Pelesse. More specially since what I see they are going to do, to keep them always ready to put out fires--they rehearsed their revolutions one day last week, and, according to the noosepapers, beat Mounsheer Shabby out and out--but they does it by wearing Ass-beastos jackets,--by which means they minds fires no more than that young woman we read of, who lived a hundred years in a Fir-nest--I mean Sally Mander.

What a nice man Mr. Main must be, who is one of the heads of the Pelisse, to take such care to distinguish the fires--I have often seen his name up agin the walls, and never knew what it meant, with F. P. before it--where it says "Westminster _Main_--always charged." I am sure we hoe a grate deal to Mr. Peal--Sir Richard Burney never put out no fires that I ever heard of, nor any body, except the Fire Indians, who do it with a wetness to it.

My poor grand-child has been so bad, that I have not been able to see our new Moll Pomona at Common Garden, but I hear she overflows the house with people and with tiers--I could not stir out and leave little Jacinta, she has had nothing to eat or drink for these three weeks, but some tappyochre and a glass of white wine delighted with water.

Only think of the Argand Rooms being burned down, and the English Uproar House in the Strand--I hope this last will be bult up agin, for I think English talons should be encurridged, and I do love our native wobblers, they are so much more tuching than the Hightalians--as for the French hactors, Potter and Clup and those, they are very funey in their whey, but not to compare with our hone Thisbeans in Common Garden or Dreary Lane.

Oh, Law! what do you think of Lady Edinborough? is not her's a curous tail, to think of leaving such a handsome man as her husband for a foraying prince? I suppose my Lord will get marred again, to keep the title in the right line--he has no hair apparent now, I believe.

I can add no moor at present, for the Physicking is come; and as I must give him his phee, I may as well insult him, and get all I can out of him, for now that Jacinta is better, I pomps him for the noose off the Bo mond, which these Dogturs know more off than most peepil. I will wright soon agen, and give you a hysterical account of all our proceeduns. Adoo, chair B.,

Yours, D. RAMSBOTTOM.

XXVII.

MRS. RAMSBOTTOM'S OPINIONS ON PUBLIC EVENTS.

TO JOHN BULL.

Kaduggan Place, Sloane Street, Nov. 20, 1830.

DEAR B.,--Here we are, once more in the capitol--Fulmer has hops in the Wigs to give him a plaice--he has been a fishing a long time, and has cocht nothing yet; and I fear now they _have_ got in, the old tale of more pigs than tits will be new revived.

What do you think of Hairy Broom as Chancesellor?--Lord Crows-nest on the Wulsack--or a half-pay Captun (brevet Lefttenant Kernel) as Master of the Ordinance--or my friend Lord Drum, the coal-merchant, as Lord Privy; not to speak of Nero Denman as Attorny-General, or Newark Wilde as Solissiter--Why is all this?--Just because a parsel of lazy fellers did not like to go out in a wet night to vote for the Civil List--I'm sure the names of them as did not go to support the King, should be published, and called the _uncivil_ list, as a disttinkshun.

Well, never was I more surprized. Here, says I, after the Revelation in France is ended, after settling the affairs of the Ditch and the Belchians, to think of a two do in London. Poor Charles Deece is almost forgotten. It is true his fort was firing his ordnance among the people, and my French sun-in-law cries "_Baa les Tyriens_" whenever we spike of him. He says, says he, "I don't mean nobody in party-colour, but (he rot this bit himself) _Qui capit ille facit_," to which my other sun-in-law, Fulmer, says, "that Charles Deece might have overcome the danger, but that he was the _Capet_ who would not _face it_."

Fulmer has sent a long pistol to the Primer to ask for something; but he says of course the _Greys_ will be beset by the _Duns_, and that all the hungry ones can't expect to be felled at once; besides, he doesn't expect this set to last. I'm sure such a parcel of things never was put into a Cabinet before, except to be looked at, as curosittes.

We was a rustycatting at Warmer, near Deel, on Lord Mayor's Day, but the weather has grown so much colder, I was glad to git away from old Ossian; they was all on the _Key_ weave, in the City, that day. Sir Clod is a great genus, and always was--he was much above his calling when he was a Hatturney--he was made to ride on a wite oss afore the King.

I see somebody has sent his Majesty a pair of boots, and somebody else has sent the King and Queen a cake, which, the Lord Chambermaid rites word, was uncommon nice--is it because the Wigs won't let the Royal Family have enuff munny to live upon, that their subjex send them such things?

I wonder that Lord Angelseye should go to Hireland agin; he was a Poplar ruler when he was last there, but the case is haltered now; if he should be hill when he is out at Doubling, with the Tig Dollyroo, I suppose Sir Francis Birdhit will go to Mr. Singeing Long, and be robbed for him. Only think of that Long; I'm sewer if the New Jewry find such a Furdickt as the Old Jewry did, the Gudge ought not to suffer him to be _Long_ in this country. I think it would be better to let him be tried by the Old Bayley, rather than by either of the _Parks_--only he is all for the west end of the Mephistophiles, and is supported by the Hairystockcrazy.

Your friend Fillpot _is_ maid a Bishop, although you said he never woud be. What do you say to _that_? The dear Duck of Wellington thought as Fillypotty had _ratified_ his part of the agreement he would _ratify his_--Filly will be near Cardinal Weld at Exeter, and his Imminence perhaps will bring Toby quite round, and get him made Pop of Rheum one of these days. It is quite rite, however, that when he gets his mitered coach he shoud give up his Stanhope--he can't want both, and at such a distance, too, from itch other.

Do you think Sir Scarlet will be Lord Chief Jester in the room of Lord Tenderdone? Fulmer tells me that Hairy Broom says he won't be Lord Chancesellor, which makes me think the thing is quite curtain that he will; he wants to be Master of the Roles he says, so has to have his fling in the House of Cummons; but the Master wont go--he likes a quiet life and no nonsense--no cabnets and wulsack wurk, but soshability and a leetel haycarty in the evenings. I honner his honner for his taste and his furmness; a good Leach always sticks fastest--besides, it spits Broom, and that is just "_cum il fot_," as the French says.

I dont see that Mr. A. B. C.-rombie has got anything in this scrimble-scramble. I am glad Lord Goodyrich is cum back, for a kinder-arted, more hamiable man there is not in all the whirld. Sir James Graham, as Fust Lord of the Admirability is curous, but Mr. Spring Tide as the Secretairer seems an uncommon proper apintment.

Fulmer tells me that Lord Hill has got the _Blues_--I am sorry his Lordship takes the change of Minsters so much to heart. I hope he will keep up his spirts, for every body has nose him, loves him.

There is a very scandallous report going about, that Lord Holland is going to keep the Duchess of Lancaster--I dont believe it for many reasons--one is, I never heard of the Lady before, unless it is your friend the Princess of Olive Serres, who has got her rites at last; but then Lord Holland would not do sich a thing as that; at least I conseeve not.

Perhaps, dear B., you will send me a billey in the coarse of the weak, and if anything good should turnip for Fulmer I will let you no--he is by no means partycolour--any place, from a Lord Precedents down to a porters, would suit him--he is equally fit for all; besides, in a squabble like this, nobody sticks at fitness.

Yours ever, dear B., D. L. RAMSBOTTOM.

P.S. You never tells us nothing about the Theaters now; is your cricket dead? if he is, why don't you git anuther? Adoo! B.

XXVIII.

MRS. RAMSBOTTOM DECLARES HERSELF A CONVERT TO "REFORM."

TO JOHN BULL.

Turnham Green, April 4, 1831.

DEAR B.,--It is a long time since you have heard from me,--and now I do write, you will find me somewhat haltered in my principles. I have been one over by my sun-in-law to the great caws of Reform. He talks of not stopping till we have got the Ballad and General Sufferance--as to the first, I am all for the song; but with regard to the General, I cannot say I ever heard of him before; but if he is a friend of Lord John Rustles, that is efficient--the very site of Lord John is enuff--his name is a corjil, and his figger is comefort.

I recklect the day when I satanized Lord Drum, the Lord Privy, and so did _you_, B.--you now you did--chiefly, as I think, because he was yellow. Did you ever read Foot, B.?--Muster Foot says, in one of his Farcies, that a good candidate, like a good oss, cannot be of a bad culler--so I say--besides, what's yellower than a jinny? I think I see you, when you read my lines, and find me alturd as I am--but I am enlightened--the peeple _must have refurm_--my shoemaker says so, and I know it must be so; and as Lord Drum is at the bottom of the Refurm Bile, I love him--he looks as if he had been making the bile for some time. Oh, B., he is an intersting crechur, and so good natured, it is quite unpossible to void having a puncheon for him.

I admit at first the Cabnet was in a quandary--that Polly Thomson isn't poplar amongst them. I think they are jellies of Polly, for he most certainly has talons--Fulmer says he nose he has--he is a great ventriloquist (I think they call it), which speaks many forin tongs--indeed, Fulmer sometimes calls him Pollyglot as well as Polly Thomson, and he told me the other day that the King was going to create him Barren Barilla, and sent him out Protector of Grease, instead of Prince Loophole, who, as they call it, bagged out.

Then Lord Althrop--what a deal of good he has dun since he has bein in Hoffys. Look at his entrenchments--he has cut down the odd eater of the Civil List, and tuck off the dooty on koles--and wot a deal more he would have dun if the axe of parlymen of hother dace had not perwented him. And as for Lord Grey himself, I _do_ say sich a kind-arted man as not been seen for ears and ears--not a sun, nor a cussin, nor a nevy, nor a sun-in-law, nor a wife's cussin, nor one hingyvigyal belonging to him, but wot he has perwided for, somehow or another. Shew me a Prim Minster as hever hacted in sich a generous way afore--Why the Duck of Wellington, with all his fine toe doos, when he was in place, never guv nothing vhatsoever to any of his relations as ever I heard of--ard-arted Duck.

And then that sweet Muster Cullcraft--a dear gentleman, full of Janus, and as neat and as nice as a nine-pin--he is the Ugh!-nit which guv the majority, and all by thinking twice, which is a wise thing in a man--I was not at all surprized when I heard that the nice crechur voted with the eyes--for, says I to my Lavy, he has very little to say to the nose, anyhow. But he was always a favourite with the ladies--a regalar Feel-hander amongst them. And then his pore sun Granny too, to have lost his Love--more's the petty, for they are a nice fam'ly take 'em all to gather--

"From grave to gay, from lively to Sevier."

I hope Lord Bruffham and Fox comes up with your expectorations--he certainly does with his hone--I went, the other night, into "Tommy's box;" I don't know why they called the place so--it was like a vaper bath, with certains all round it; and there I seed the Chanceseller lying full-length on the Wulsack--(which I thought a hod thing to have in sich a place)--and I am told he may be seen lying there every night--when I say lying, I mean stretching,--and poor nobleman, no wonder, for he must be a most tired out--wot with the intrests of the nayshun, and the cawses in his Court, and the trouble he is at to keep silence there--and carrion the bag--and riting leaden articles in the noos-peppers, and his repeals, and one thing and the other. Have you seen his pitcher in the Suffocating gallery of Artists?--there he is, as like as like can be, but only carycachurd, which is not to be wundered at, for the pitcher is panted by Lord Lonsdale--(so the cattle-hog says)--and as his Lordship always made him look blue on the pole, its no wunder he has made him look yellow on the canvas--for blue and yellow is Bruffham's cullers. The pictcher, however, is in the best place in the room, in complement to the Lord Chanceseller--so that them as was ordered to hang his Lordship, have done him only justass.

Then there is Lord Pummicestone--he is another of my feverits-- where did you ivir see such a Foraying Minster as he--so genteel--so haymable--and with sich nice wiskers and white linen--never interfeering the least with any nonsense about polyticks--never sayin a word about his hoffice, either in Parlyment or out of it, as I hears on; he troubles his head no more about the Belchians and the Ditch, or the Roosians, or the Proossians, or hany of the oosians, than I do. I'm told (by Parr and Tess) that there are no hops for the Poles--their caws is desprut--at least so the Old Engine we met last season at the sea side told me the day before yesterday, as I seed him cumming out of the Horizontal Club in Handover-square;--nevertheless, I think Lord Pummicestone is quite wyse for not talkin--when one nose littel, it is the safest way to say nothink. However, I may be preggudiced in his fever, for his Lordship has promised to do the jalap wuth me, at an opp wich a frend of ours in Taffystalk-square is to give next munth--I thoft my duncing days was gun, but woo can resist Lord Pummicestone--that would be a _task_.

Pursenal felines, however, shud not halways way with us, but since Fulmer as taken this turn towards refurm, all the Minsters have been so servile to us, that we are quite churmed. Lord Hockland, though no grate things in the Guvment, is sich a haffable, warm arted cretur--sich an insinivating Pier--and Sir Jims Graham, so hunassuming, and at the same time such a fine man--how he turrified that Ogreman Mahoon--did you see how the pore fellur was put to a nonplush; and how he croed over O'Konnell like a kok--Grame kim out of that, splendid--there is'nt nothink but _that_ to be sed about it; so did Lord Althrop with Mr. Plummet Wad--a very hominous name for a querrel--he that he cocht in his entrenchment at St. Jimses--Oh! it makes one prowd to see such Neros as these.

But nothink will do--everybody wich wares shurts and has munney in their pokets abuses this bill of Lord Drums; they say the bill may parse, but nobody can conster it; and they tells us that the honly claws they can understand in the bill is the Divil's claws, which has set his foot in it. To be sure, B., I must say, looking at things as they stand, cutting off sixty-two members at a blow is a serous hopperation--I hone it is very like a Revelation. Old Tim with the firelock, however, will shoe the effex; and (as I says to Lavy, whenever I have a fit of coffin) wen we are in our graves, what will it signify to hus?

I _am_ for Reform--and I hone it. The King, they say, is for it--at wich I wunder; and the Queen is agin it--at wich I do not wunder. But Mr. Christopher Stubbs, our hopposite neighbore, is for it; and that has decided me--for _he_ hadmires Lord Pummicestone, and Mister Cullcraft, and Mr. Singeing Long--so I think he has had some new lights lately. Singeing Long, after having stood twice at the Hold Bayley, and having been only returned once, is going to hoffer himself for the parish of Marrowbone, as what Fulmer calls the "_knee_ plus ultra."

And now, B., let us snitch a minuet from Pollyticks, and Pollygots, and Polly Thomsons, for a moral inflexion or two; here is Hester come agin--Puck, as the Galls call it--the trees is begining to shoot, just as the bows is ceesing to unt; the sweet Buds (I ope you like Hornithology) are commencing their wobblings on the branches, and are hable to do wot is wise as well as pleasant--turn over a new leaf every day of their lives. Hadam and Heve did so before them, wich is a good President.

Wot a splundid site it is to behold the wurks of natur--the great Halps--Strumbolli--Hetna--the sparrowgrass piping out of the beds at Battersea--Burnells funnell under the Thames--and the Cosmorammy in Regent Street--but one has no time for these thinks at present. I ham absobbed with the grate question, and I culd not rest till I opened myself to yew--you will call me a rat--but I'll trust you, even though _I_ begun our corryspundence; for we are safe from your Harrows, if we don't expose _ourselves_, and however I may cry out for refurm, _enter noo_; I shall never be hass enough to be a bartizan of it before the public.

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

XXIX.

MRS. RAMSBOTTOM ON THE HOUSE OF LORDS.

TO JOHN BULL.

Clappem Kommon, Hoct. 14, 1831.