But a side-board, you dog, where one's eye roves There goes a French Dandy-ah, DICK! unlike Then, some glasses of Beaune, to dilute-or, may- They'd club for old BR-MM-L, from Calais, to hap, dress 'em! Chambertin, which you know's the pet tipple of The collar sticks out from the neck such a space, That you'd swear 'twas the plan of this head NAP, And which Dad, by the by, that legitimate stickler, The coffee's ne'er-failing and glorious appendix, A neat glass of parfait-amour, which one sips The sun now well out, and the girls all abroad, lopping nation, To leave there behind them a snug little place seurs, Some mummers by trade, and the rest amateursWhat with captains in new jockey-boots and silk ⚫ breeches, Old dustmen with swinging great opera-hats, There never was seen such a race of Jack From the Boulevards-but hearken!-yes-as The clock is just striking the half-hour to dinner: We lounge up the Boulevards, where-oh, DICK, So no more at present-short time for adorning the phyzzes, My Day must be finish'd some other fine morn- The turn-outs, we meet- - what a nation of quizzes ! dreads, Inflicts, without ev'n a court-martial, on hundreds.3 In a silk that has stood since the time of the Fronde. Now, hey for old BEAUVILLIERS'4 larder, my boy! R. FUDGE. Yes, let Hebe, ever young, High in heav'n her nectar hold, 1 The favourite wine of Napoleon. 3 It was said by Wicquefort, more than a hundred years ago, "Le Roi d'Angleterre fait seul plus de chevaliers que tous les autres Rois de la Chrétienté ensemble."- What would he say now? 4 A celebrated restaurateur. LETTER IV. FROM PHELIM CONNOR TO ; That monster, Self, too gross to be conceal'd, "RETURN!"-no, never, while the with'ring hand Back to his masters, ready gagg'd and chain'd! Of bigot power is on that hapless land; Still hope and suffer, all who can !—but I, Worthy associate of that band of Kings, That royal, rav'ning flock, whose vampire wings O'er sleeping Europe treacherously brood, Of hope, of freedom-but to drain her blood! If thus to hear thee branded be a bliss That Vengeance loves, there's yet more sweet than That 'twas an Irish head, an Irish heart, But whither?-every where the scourge pursues- When will the world shake off such yokes? oh, Oh, E-gl-d! could such poor revenge atone Were this his lux'ry, never is thy name 1 "They used to leave a yard square of the wall of the house unplastered, on which they wrote, in large letters, either the fore-mentioned verse of the Psalmist (* If I forget thee, O Jerusalem,' &c.) or the words-The memory of the desolation.'". -Leo of Modena. 2 I have thought it prudent to omit some parts of Mr. Phelim Connor's letter. He is evidently an intemperato Will that redeeming day shine out on men, Like him of Jaghernaut, drive trampling now; When will this be?—or, oh! is it, in truth, Are they the only wise, who laugh to scorn 1 Who, proud to kiss each sep'rate rod of pow'r, * 1 The late Lord C. of Ireland had a curious theory about Dames: he held that every man with three names was a jacobin. His instances in Ireland were numerous: - viz. Archibald Hamilton Rowan, Theobald Wolfe Tone, James Napper Tandy, John Philpot Curran, &c. &c.; and in England, he produced as examples Charles James Fox, Richard Brinsley Sheridan, John Horne Tooke, Francis Burdett Jones, &c. &c. The Romans called a thief" homo trium literarum." But, Lord, such a place! and then, DOLLY, my dresses, My gowns, so divine!-there's no language expresses, Except just the two words "superbe," "magnifique," The trimmings of that which I had home last week! It is call'd—I forget-à la—something which sounded Like alicampane-but, in truth, I'm confounded And bother'd, my dear, 'twixt that troublesome boy's (BOB'S) Cookery language, and Madame LE Ror's: I can scarce tell the diff'rence, at least as to phrase, so beautiful!-high up and Like things that are put to keep chimnies from smoking. Where shall I begin with the endless delights But dressing and dinnering, dancing and acting? Brother BOBBY's remark, t'other night, was a true one; "This must be the music," said he, "of the spears, "For I'm curst if each note of it doesn't run through one!" Pa says (and you know, love, his Book's to make No-never was known in this riotous sphere Here DANIEL, in pantomime 3, bids bold defiance In very thin clothing, and but little of it ; And composing a fine rumbling base to a cholic! Here BÉGRAND 4, who shines in this scriptural path, But, the dancing-ah! parlez-moi, DOLLY, de ça — As the lovely SUZANNA, without ev'n a relic Of drapery round her, comes out of the bath In a manner that, BOB says, is quite Eve-angelic! But in short, dear, 'twould take me a month to recite All the exquisite places we're at, day and night; And, besides, ere I finish, I think you'll be glad Just to hear one delightful adventure I've had. Fly, fly to TITANIA, and ask her if she has One light-footed nymph in her train, that can dance Like divine BIGOTTINI and sweet FANNY BIAS! FANNY BIAS in FLORA-dear creature!—you'd | Last night, at the Beaujon3, a place where-I swear, doubt When her delicate feet in the dance twinkle If its charms I can paint-there are cars, that set out round, That her steps are of light, that her home is the air, And she only par complaisance touches the ground. And when BIGOTTINI in PSYCHÉ dishevels Her black flowing hair, and by dæmons is driven, Then, the music-so softly its cadences die, From a lighted pavilion, high up in the air, These vehicles, mind me, in which you go through You'll venture down with him-you smile-'tis ! In an instant you're seated, and down both together! The impatience of some for the perilous flight, What a crisis 'twould be for your friend BIDDY The forc'd giggle of others, 'twixt pleasure and FUDGE! The next place (which BOBBY has near lost his heart in) fright, That there came up-imagine, dear DOLL, if you can A fine sallow, sublime, sort of Werter-fac'd man, They call it the Play-house-I think of St. With mustachios that gave (what we read of so oft) The dear Corsair expression, half savage, half soft, Martin ; 1 As Hyænas in love may be fancied to look, or Quite charming-and very religious-what folly The Théâtre de la Porte St.-Martin, which was built when the Opera House in the Palais Royal was burnt down, in 1781. A few days after this dreadful fire, which lasted more than a week, and in which several persons perished, the Parisian élégantes displayed flame-coloured dresses," couleur de feu d'Opéra !" - Dulaure, Curiosités de Paris. 2 "The Old Testament," says the theatrical Critic in the Gazette de France, "is a mine of gold for the managers of our small play-houses. A multitude crowd round the Théâtre de la Gaieté every evening to see the Passage of the Red Sea." In the play-bill of one of these sacred melo-drames at Vienna, we find " The Voice of G-d, by M. Schwartz." 3 A piece very popular last year, called "Daniel, ou La Fosse aux Lions." The following scene will give an idea of head, (Rather bald, but so warlike!) in bad English said, the daring sublimity of these Scriptural pantomimes. “Scène ¦ 20. La fournaise devient un berceau de nuages azures, an fond duquel est un groupe de nuages plus lumineux, et au milieu Jehovah' au centre d'un cercle de rayous brillans, qui annonce la présence de l'E'ternel." 4 Madame Bégrand, a finely-formed woman, who acts in "Susanna and the Elders,"-"L'Amour et la Folie," &c. &c. 5 The Promenades Aériennes, or French Mountains. -See a description of this singular and fantastic place of amusement in a pamphlet, truly worthy of it, by" F. F. Cotterel Médecin, Docteur de la Faculté de Paris," &c. &c. 6 According to Dr. Cotterel the cars go at the rate of fortyeight miles an hour. "Ah! my dear-if Ma'mselle vil be so very Fly to the Beaujon, and there seek relief goodBy rattling, as BOB says, like shot through a Just for von littel course"-though I scarce understood What he wish'd me to do, I said, thank him, I would. Off we set-and, though faith, dear, I hardly knew whether My head or my heels were the uppermost then, For 'twas like heav'n and earth, DOLLY, coming together, Yet, spite of the danger, we dar'd it again. And oh as I gaz'd on the features and air Of the man, who for me all this peril defied, I could fancy almost he and I were a pair Of unhappy young lovers, who thus, side by side, Were taking, instead of rope, pistol, or dagger, a Desperate dash down the falls of Niagara ! holly-bush." 66 I must now bid adieu ;-only think, DOLLY, think With imagining how it will sound in the papers Has gone down the Beaujon with Miss BIDDY FUDGE. Nota Bene.-Papa's almost certain 'tis he- LETTER VI. FROM PHIL. FUDGE, ESQ. TO HIS BROTHER TIM YOURS of the 12th receiv'd just now Thanks for the hint, my trusty brother! 'Tis truly pleasing to see how We, FUDGES, stand by one another. Who's here now incog. 2-he, who made such a But never fear- I know my chap, TOFF, Us'd three times a day with young ladies in I play'd in 95 and 6, Some Doctor, indeed, has declar'd that such grief 1 In the Café attached to these gardens there are to be (as Doctor Cotterel informs us) "douze nègres, très-alertes, qui contrasteront par l'ébène de leur peau avec le teint de lis et de roses de nos belles. Les glaces et les sorbets, servis par une As you remind me in your letter, main bien noire, fera davantage ressortir l'albâtre des bras 2 His Majesty, who was at Paris under the travelling name of Count Ruppin, is known to have gone down the Beaujon very frequently. |