Perhaps you will correct this little error: it hurts me, because, as I said before, I like you very much, and I have got a few cases of particular champagne, a wine which my friend Rogers tells me, you are extremely fond of, and which he says is better than all the "real pain" in the world—(nobody ever said it before); and when the women return from over the horrid sea, I hope you will come and drink some of it; so pray just make an erratum, as the booksellers say, and put our right names in your paper, by doing which you will really oblige, your's,
Humphrey Ramsbottom.
P.S.—My second daughter is a very fine girl, and I think as clever as Lavy, and writes a much clearer hand—you shall see her when you come to M—— Place.
V.
MISS LAVINIA RAMSBOTTOM FORWARDS THE CONTINUATION OF HER MOTHER'S DIARY.
To John Bull.
Paris, Dec. 28, 1823.
Dear Mr. B.,—I never was so surprised in my life as when we got your paper here, to see that your printing people had called Ma' and me Higginbottom—I was sure, and I told Ma' so, that it could not be your fault, because you could not have made such a mistake in my handwriting, nor could you have forgotten me so much as to have done such a thing; but I suppose you were so happy and comfortable with your friends (for judging by the number of your enemies you must have a host of them) at this merry season, that you did not pay so much attention to your correspondents as usual. I forgive you, my dear Mr. B.—Christmas comes but once a-year, and I assure you we had a small lump of roast beef (portion pour deux) from M. Godeau's, over the way, to keep up our national custom—the man actually asked Ma' whether she would have a rost-bif de mouton; so little do they know anything about it. I send another portion of Ma's diary—you spelt it "dairy" in the paper—I don't know whether Ma' put it so herself—she is quite pleased at seeing it published, and Mr. Fulmer called and said it was capital.
We have just come from the Ambassador's chapel, and are going to see St. Cloud directly, so I cannot write much myself, but must say adieu.—Always believe me, dear Mr. B., yours truly,
Lavinia Ramsbottom.
ENGLAND AND FRANCE,
By Dorothea Julia Ramsbottom.
(Continued.)
"When we came near the French shore, a batto (which is much the same as a boat in England) came off to us, and, to my agreeable surprise, an Englishman came into our ship; and I believe he was a man of great consequence, for I overheard him explaining some dreadful quarrel which had taken place in our Royal Family.
"He said to the master of our ship, that owing to the Prince Leopold having run foul of the Duchess of Kent while she was in stays, the Duchess had missed Deal. By which I conclude it was a dispute at cards—however, I want to know nothing of state secrets, or I might have heard a great deal more, because it appeared that the Duchess's head was considerably injured in the scuffle.
"I was very much distressed to see that a fat gentleman who was in the ship, had fallen into a fit of perplexity by over-reaching himself—he lay prostituted upon the floor, and if it had not been that we had a doctor in the ship, who immediately opened his temporary artery and his jocular vein, with a lancelot which he had in his pocket, I think we should have seen his end.
"It was altogether a most moving spectacle—he thought himself dying, and all his anxiety in the midst of his distress was to be able to add a crocodile to his will, in favour of his niece, about whom he appeared very sanguinary.
"It was quite curious to see the doctor fleabottomize the patient, which he did without any accident, although it blew a perfect harrico at the time. I noticed two little children, who came out of the boat, with hardly any clothes on them, speaking French like anything—a proof of the superior education given to the poor in France, to that which they get in England from Dr. Bell of Lancaster.
"When we landed at Callous, we were extremely well received, and I should have enjoyed the sight very much, but Mr. Fulmer, and another gentleman in the batto, kept talking of nothing but how turkey and grease disagreed with each other, which, in the then state of my stomach, was far from agreeable.
"We saw the print of the foot of Louis Desweet, the French King, where he first stopped when he returned to his country—he must be a prodigious heavy man to have left such a deep mark in the stone—we were surrounded by Commissioners, who were so hospitable as to press us to go to their houses without any ceremony. Mr. Fulmer showed our pass-ports to a poor old man, with a bit of red ribband tied to his button-hole, and we went before the Mayor, who is no more like a Mayor than my foot-boy.
"Here they took a subscription of our persons, and one of the men said that Lavinia had a jolly manton, at which the clerks laughed, and several of them said she was a jolly feel, which I afterwards understood meant a pretty girl—I misunderstood it for fee, which, being in a public office, was a very natural mistake.
"We went then to a place they call the Do-Anne, where they took away the pole of my baruch—I was very angry at this, but they told me we were to travel in Lemonade with a biddy, which I did not understand, but Mr. Fulmer was kind enough to explain it to me as we went to the hotel, which is in a narrow street, and contains a garden and court-yard.
"I left it to Mr. Fulmer to order dinner, for I felt extremely piquant, as the French call it, and a very nice dinner it was—we had a purey, which tasted very like soup—one of the men said it was made from leather, at least so I understood, but it had quite the flavour of hare; I think it right here to caution travellers against the fish at this place, which looks very good, but which I have reason to believe is very unwholesome, for one of the waiters called it poison while speaking to the other—the fish was called marine salmon, but it looked like veal cutlets.
"They are so fond of Buonaparte still that they call the table-cloths Naps, in compliment to him—this I remarked to myself, but said nothing about it to anybody else, for fear of consequences.
"One of the waiters, who spoke English, asked me if I would have a little Bergami, which surprised me, till Mr. Fulmer said it was the wine he was handing about, when I refused it, preferring to take a glass of Bucephalus.
"When we had dined we had some coffee, which is here called cabriolet; after which Mr. Fulmer asked if we would have a chasse, which I thought meant a hunting party, and said I was afraid of going out into the fields at that time of night—but I found chasse was a lickure called cure a sore (from its healing qualities, I suppose), and very nice it was—after we had taken this, Mr. Fulmer went out to look at the jolly feels in the shops of Callous, which I thought indiscreet in the cold air; however, I am one as always overlooks the little piccadillies of youth.
"When we went to accoucher at night, I was quite surprised in not having a man for a chambermaid; and if it had not been for the entire difference of the style of furniture, the appearance of the place, and the language and dress of the attendants, I never should have discovered that we had changed our country in the course of the day.
"In the morning early we left Callous with the Lemonade, which is Shafts, with a very tall post-boy, in a violet-coloured jacket, trimmed with silver; he rode a little horse, which is called a biddy, and wore a nobbed tail, which thumped against his back like a patent self-acting knocker. We