FROM MP BOB FUDGE TO RICHARD , ESQ. DEAR DICK, while old DONALDSON'S & mending my stays,

Which I knew would go smash with me one of these days,

And, at yesterday's dinner, when, full to the throttle,

We lads had begun our dessert with a bottle

Of neat old Constantia, on my leaning back

Just to order another, by Jove, I went crack!

Or, as honest Toм said, in his nautical phrase,

"Damn my eyes, BOB, in doubling the Cape you've missed stays." 4

So, of course, as no gentleman's seen out without them,

They 're now at the Schneider's — and, while he 's about them,

2 The usual preamble of these flagitious compacts. In the same spirit, Catherine, after the dreadful massacre of Warsaw, ordered a solemn "thanksgiving to God in all the churches, for the blessings conferred upon the Poles: " and commanded that each of them should "swear fidelity and loyalty to her, and to shed in her defence the last drop of their blood, as they should answer for it to God, and his terrible judgment, kissing the holy word and cross of their Saviour!

3 An English tailor at Paris.

4 A ship is said to miss stays, when she does not obey the helm in tacking.

5 The dandy term for a tailor.

For, 't is odd, these mounseers, - tho' we 've wasted our wealth

And our strength, till we 've thrown ourselves into a phthisic,

To cram down their throats an old King for their health,

As we whip little children to make them take physic;

Yet, spite of our good-natured money and slaughter,

Long as, by bayonets protected, we Natties

May have our full fling at their salmis and pâtés?

And, truly, I always declared 't would be pity

To burn to the ground such a choicefeeding city.

Had Dad but his way, he 'd have long ago blown

The whole batch to old Nick and the people, I own,

If for no other cause than their curst monkey looks,

Well deserve a blow-up but then, damn it, their Cooks!

As to Marshals, and Statesmen, and all their whole lineage,

For aught that I care, you may knock them to spinage;

But think, DICK, their Cooks - what a loss to mankind!

What a void in the world would their art leave behind!

Their chronometer spits- their intense salamanders

the groseille water is administered, are among the most characteristic ornaments of the streets of Paris.

3" Cette merveilleuse Marmite Perpétuelle, sur le feu depuis près d'un siècle; qui a donné jour à plus de 300,000 chapons.”—“Alman, de Gourmands," Quatrième Annie, p. 152.

While there St. VENECIA sits hemming and frilling her

Holy mouchoir o'er the door of some milliner;

Saint AUSTIN 's the "outward and visible sign

"Of an inward" cheap dinner, and pint of small wine;

While St. DENYS hangs out o'er some hatter of ton,

And possessing, good bishop, no head of his own,

Takes an interest in Dandies, who 've got next to none!

Then we stare into shops-read the evening's affiches —

Or, if some, who 're Lotharios in feeding, should wish

Just to flirt with a luncheon, (a devilish bad trick,

As it takes off the bloom of one's appe

3 Veronica, the Saint of the Holy Handkerchief, is also, under the name of Venisse or Venecia, the tutelary saint of milliners.

4 St. Denys walked three miles after his head was cut off. The mot of a woman of wit upon this legend is well known: -“. "Je le crois bien; en pareil cas, il n'y a que le premier pas qui coute."

5 Off the Boulevards Italiens.

6 In the Palais Royal; successor, I believe, to the Flamand, so long celebrated for the moëlleux of his Gaufres.

Such, DICK, are the classical sports that

content us,

Till five o'clock brings on that hour so momentous,+

That epoch- but whoa! my lad - here comes the Schneider,

And, curse him, has made the stays three inches wider

Too wide by an inch and a half -W what a Guy!

But, no matter-'t will all be set right by-and-by.

As we 've MASSINOT's eloquent carte to eat still up,

An inch and a half 's but a trifle to fill up. So- not to lose time, DICK - here goes for the task;

Au revoir, my old boy of the Gods I but ask,

That my life, like "the Leap of the

German," 6 may be,

"Du lit à la table, d'la table au lit!” R. F.

LETTER IX.

FROM PHIL. FUDGE, ESQ., TO THE
LORD VISCOUNT CASTLEREAGH.

My Lord, the Instructions, brought today,

"I shall in all my best obey."

food [says Hume, gravely), which always agreed better with his palate than his constitution."

Lampreys, indeed, seem to have been always a favorite dish with kings - whether from some congeniality between them and that fish, I know not; but Dio Cassius tells us that Pollio fattened his lampreys with human blood. St. Louis of France was particularly fond of them. See the anecdote of Thomas Aquinas eating up his majesty's lamprey, in a note upon Rabelais, liv. iii. chap. 2.

4 Had Mr. Bob's Dinner Epistle been inserted, I was prepared with an abundance of learned matter to illustrate it, for which, as, indeed, for all my "scientia popina,”* I am indebted to a friend in the Dublin University, - whose reading formerly lay in the magic line; but, in consequence of the Provost's enlights bed alarm at such studies, he has taken to the authors, "de re cibaria" instead; and has left Bodin, Remigius, Agrippa and his little deg Filiolus, for Apicius, Nonius, and that most learned and savory Jesuit, Bulengerus.

5 A famous Restaurateur- now Dupont.

6 An old French saying: “ Faire le saut de Allemand, du lit à la table et de la table au

lit."

* Seneca.

I feel the inquiries in your letter About my health and French most flattering;

Thank ye, my French, tho' somewhat better,

Is, on the whole, but weak and smattering:

Nothing, of course, that can compare With his who made the Congress stare (A certain Lord we need not name),

Who even in French, would have his trope,

And talk of "batir un systême

"Sur l'équilibre de l'Europe!" Sweet metaphor ! — and then the Epistle, Which bid the Saxon King go whistle, That tender letter to "Mon Prince," 1 Which showed alike thy French and

August 10. Went to the Mad-house -saw the man,2 Who thinks, poor wretch, that, while the Fiend

Of Discord here full riot ran,

He, like the rest, was guillotined; But that when, under BONEY's reign, (A more discreet, tho' quite as strong one,)

The heads were all restored again,

He, in the scramble, got a wrong one. Accordingly, he still cries out

This strange head fits him most un-
pleasantly;

And always runs, poor devil, about,
Inquiring for his own incessantly!