THE FUDGE FAMILY IN PARIS
LETTER I.
FROM MISS BIDDY FUDGE TO MISS DOROTHY ----,
OF CLONKILTY, IN IRELAND.
Amiens.
Dear DOLL, while the tails of our horses are plaiting,
The trunks tying on, and Papa, at the door,
Into very bad French is as usual translating
His English resolve not to give a _sou_ more,
I sit down to write you a line--only think!--
A letter from France, with French pens and French ink,
How delightful! tho', would you believe it, my dear?
I have seen nothing yet _very_ wonderful here;
No adventure, no sentiment, far as we've come,
But the cornfields and trees quite as dull as at home;
And _but_ for the post-boy, his boots and his queue,
I might _just_ as well be at Clonkilty with you!
In vain, at DESSEIN'S, did I take from my trunk
That divine fellow, STERNE, and fall reading "The Monk;"
In vain did I think of his charming Dead Ass,
And remember the crust and the wallet--alas!
No monks can be had now for love or for money,
(All owing, Pa says, to that infidel BONEY;)
And, tho' _one_ little Neddy we saw in our drive
Out of classical Nampont, the beast was alive!
By the by, tho' at Calais, Papa _had_ a touch
Of romance on the pier, which affected me much.
At the sight of that spot, where our darling DIXHUIT
Set the first of his own dear legitimate feet,[1]
(Modelled out so exactly, and--God bless the mark!
'Tis a foot, DOLLY, worthy so _Grand a Monarque_).
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